Tuesday, May 27, 2008

So The Iffy Chicken Didn't Kill Me.

In case you were wondering.

I went to Knitorious to pick up my Stitch N' Pitch tickets shortly after I ate the funky chicken, and while a yarn shop would be the ideal place for Death to grab me in his cold, bony hand (just think how few lucky people get to die doing something they love), I survived to knit another day.

Thursday was Beeb and Pie's last day of school. Beeb's last day of elementary school and Pie's last day of Kindergarten. I'm melancholy about it. Plus I'm not looking forward to a summer of being awakened at 6:30 by one or more of the Apes asking me, "Mommy, where are we going to GO today??"

Grrrrrr. Nowhere. How's that sound?

Friday I took them to the Zoo. I even sprung for the 3-D motion simulator Dinosaur movie (my advice: save your money) AND lunch at McDonald's. Then, on the way home, Beeb asked me if we could go to the pool. They've come to expect constant entertainment. And I just don't have the energy.

In the next couple of weeks they'll go to Bible School at a Lutheran Church, then Summer PSR, and then another Bible School at a Presbyterian Church and maybe another, I haven't decided. They go back to school August 13th.

Saturday the forecast was for sunny skies and a high in the mid 70's. We had to take Pie to his Archery class 40 minutes away, and from there we were planning to go straight out to Chez Inlaw for the big Memorial Day par-tay.

The forecast was hella WRONG.

We were all wearing t-shirts and shorts, and it was pouring rain and maybe 60 degrees out. So we made a stop at a rural WalMart for some emergency jackets (I myself got a NASCAR shirt) so we wouldn't freeze our balls off because this big par-tay is outside, and it's for ALL the people who live out in their country club neighborhood. It's a big deal - free food, free beer, petting zoo, inflatables, free beer, and free beer.

But the weather was freaking me out and I was totally nervous that the shit would get cancelled and we'd get stuck at FIL's house all day. I brought my Urgent Care paperwork, just in case FIL brought up my devious plot to skip out on Mother's Day. But, as it turned out, the clouds parted and God smiled down on my Free-Beer-Lovin' Ass. I drank a LOT. Haven't been that drunk since 6th Street. And it was great.

My interaction with FIL was minimal, but at one point he pointed out the guy from the symphony that he's all tight with. The guy I told had perfect teeth, remember? He told me I should go talk to him because I've mentioned to MIL (in front of FIL) that I think the symphony dude is Dashing. Impossibly handsome and impeccably polished.

He's right over there, Sarah, you should go say hi to him!!

MIL was trying to get FIL to leave me alone - not sure if it was because she thought I was upset that he was fuckin with me or if she was more concerned that I would actually go over to Mr. Dashing and tell him right to his flawless face how totally beautiful he is. I was wasted enough, I probably would have.

I'm just trying to get her to go over to him and say hello!

So my drunk ass comes back with, in not just my Out Loud Voice, but my Drunk-Off-My-Ass Out Loud Voice (which only surfaces on special occasions):

But, FIL, I think it would be WAAAAAAY more fun if you went over with me, don't you? Then he can be extra special sure to remember how he knows me. I'M FIL KARMA'S CRAZY DAUGHTER IN LAW.

And that was the end of it. Don't fuck with Drunk Girl in NASCAR Wear. Seriously, don't.

Sunday was Ren Faire. And I don't know if it was because of the rain or the fact that the second time around the novelty factor was kinda not really there. Once you've seen a dude dressed as an elf, it loses shock value. And I didn't get to gnaw on a greasy, dripping turkey leg after all because they were 8 bucks!
Hell to the no.

I did, however, eat my last Cannonball - those awesome deep fried Oreos they sell there. Why my last, you ask? Because, like a dumbass, I had to ask if they fry the Oreos in the same vat of grease that they fry the Fried Pickles in.

THEY DO.

Sure, I concede that I couldn't taste the pickle in the deep fried Oreo, but it's just the principle of the thing. Pickles and Oreos just shouldn't live that close together. And they sure as hell shouldn't be swimmin in the same grease. UGH!

6 comments:

Bezzie said...

Hell, pickles and oreos? Taht sounds kinda good actually. But I can't eat McD's french fries during Lent--they taste like those nasty fish sandwiches.

Dame Wendy said...

Free beer. Beautiful words.

Cheryl said...

Being anti-pickle myself, I think the oreos should not be in the same breathing air as the pickle are.
aarrgh!

ZantiMissKnit said...

Holy motherfucker of God. I will now never eat anything fried that comes from the same booth as fried pickles (and they do have that stuff at Rhinebeck). I won't even eat part of my sandwich if it has been touched by a pickle.

Oh, free beer! Hooray.

Kevin C said...

Sucks I didn't get to go to Ren Faire with you... I'd have kilted up and everything! But I guess I was too busy blasting around a Michigan lake on a SeaDoo. While I'd hate to have to give up that bit of fun, random kilt checks by strangers might have made up for it.

OK, so it totally would have made up for it.

Penny Karma said...

We're probably going next weekend too, if ya need your kilt checked.

Sorry I didn't finish your kilt socks. Or, more accurately, sorry I didn't START your kilt socks.

It would have required a girth* measurement, and as bloggable as that would be (and as much as My Vast Readership would love to hear about it, I suspect), I just didn't think it would be appropriate.

* The girth of his CALVES, you sick freaks.

Although I might have snuck in an inseam measurement, y'know, while I was down there...