Corndogs, Nachos, Bud LIght, and Other Various American Delicacies....

            This weekend marked the 1^st fair of the year in the great state of California, the Cloverdale Citrus Fair.  I have been hearing of its awesomness for a few years now, so the family and I made the trip up this past Saturday to behold it with our own eyes with some close friends of ours who go every year.

            Folks, let me tell you: it did not fail to disappoint.  The Cloverdale Citrus Fair is roughly 10,000 square feet (which is only slightly larger than your average Safeway) of carnie rides, food stands, various locals hawking their handmade trinkets, and tens of locals with a good reason for some afternoon drinkin’. 

            The theme of this year’s fair was Rock N’ Roll, and judging by the TWO homemade citrus fruit displays depicting a large guitar, and a pick-up truck – the theme really snared the interest of Cloverdaliens everywhere.  After walking through the auditorium/grange hall/local Baptist church at the entrance, you make your way through the Citrus Fair bazaar.  The bazaar is about 4 booths selling homemade pet treats, handmade jewelry, knock off Tupperware (my wife registered for the drawing to win 500 bucks worth….solid), and various baked goods.  Judging by the people selling the baked goods, I am fairly certain they were “edibles.”  This space is roughly 1500 square feet, and there were about 1000 people inside which made negotiating the area with my son in his stroller a bit of a challenge.  I suppose he had to learn how to handle Bud Light being spilled on him by a stranger at some point. 

It became clear the Cloverdaliens had their priorities in order when, upon emerging from the Bazaar, you find yourself smack dab in front of the booth boasting two tap handles dispensing nothing but Anheiser Busch’s finest light American lager. 

Of course, I had one. 

            It is important to note, this was the ONLY booth dispensing these treasures, which made it even more popular than the bazaar.  In the small courtyard next to the beer booth, was a gaggle of young couples with small (and some not so small – I swear one kid was 7) stroller-bound children.  Our friends pointed out to us that this group is the same group that found themselves partying like Charlie Sheen at the fair in years past.  This definitely explained the forlorn looks on their faces as they gazed down upon their broods of failure and chugged beer as if they weren’t there.  I wondered aloud how many of those kids were conceived at the fair, as they seemed to be grouped in ages of three months; 15 months, 22 months, etc…do the math.

            We did no rides. I don’t do rides.  I had a bad experience, just without the chaw:

           

Besides, something about the carnies and their toothless leering faces make me nervous.  I refuse to plummet to my death at the hands of a professional meth addict. 

This brings me to the food at the event: here is all you need to know.  There was a booth that sold pizza, fries, and nachos.  And there was a booth that sold fries, corndogs, funnel cakes, deep fried oreos…in fact now that I think about it – there was a certified cardiologist on hand at all times at this booth.  It was glorious.  Since I partook in 2 plastic pints of suds on this day, I steered clear of a plate of fair faire. 

Fucking responsibility….I am GAY for corndogs. 

My wife, however ordered a plate of nachos, which came with tepid cheese, pickled jalapenos (we watched her take them out of the Costco jar), and sour cream from a squeeze bottle!  It was magnificent in its entire poorly executed splendor.  My wife loved it (at the time – the plumbing had a little trouble with it later) and my son even enjoyed his first taste of nacho cheese.  Even at 10 months old, he loved it.  We only gave him a teaspoon of the stuff, but he still managed to rub it all over his face like Oil of Olay.

I was envious.  So, so envious….

There were a half dozen game booths of standard variety – ring toss for fish with 35 minutes to live, basketball shots with rims smaller than the balls, baseball throw at lead bottles cemented to the table, and finally the game where you shoot the red star of Russia out of a card with an fully automatic pellet gun.  The most important thing to note about the games is the prizes.  Every fair I’ve ever been to have games that boast huge stuffed animals that dads win for their kids.  The kids don’t want to carry them so the dad has to walk around with it like a douchebag in the sweltering heat.  Not the Citrus Fair, ho no – this fair had a top shelf full of Nascar Jackets.  Nothing but Nascar Jackets.  ‘Nary a Jeff Gordon to be found either.  I commented on that and the music stopped, the rides screeched to a halt, and somewhere by the beer booth, a posse formed to find “The Picklekisser.”

It was wonderful; the whole spectacle was absolutely wonderful.  The only way I would have felt more American is if there was a John Wayne movie booth, and an octagon where a couple of guys in Affliction Tee’s (there were a lot of them) could get in without signing a waiver and beat the ever living shit out of each other.  Maybe next year?  We’ll be back!

I’m getting good at my Tony Horton Screen Shots!  Check out these doozies:

I like to call this one: “So then I took his head, and placed it on my pelvic area.  Y’know, as a hint…”

       

I like to call this one: “Dude, you don’t touch the beautiful genius, I touch you.  Eww.”

Last week was the beginning of phase two, which means there are two new workouts.  Monday is now back, shoulders, and triceps.  Wednesday is now back and biceps.  I don’t mind Wednesday, although I can’t help but shake the idea that it is a day for vanity, and that one-day I will end up so enthralled with my own impressive biceps that I will end up like this guy:

Probably not, because I work out with the bands.  And the bands are for shut-ins and weaklings. 

I do hate Monday though, and I hate Monday for one reason and one reason alone.  The pike push up.  This is a pushup where you get in a position similar to a woman in congress of a cow, and then do a pushup (so it is much like Congress of a Cow – since you get FUCKED!).  It sucks the butthole.  All the blood rushes to your head, and then snot drips out of your nose, and on the last one: you struggle to keep from peeing yourself.  This is particularly dangerous; because as everyone knows, pee flows toward the lowest point.  The lowest point here happens to be YOUR FACE!  Boy, if Horton can’t actually piss on you, he has figured out a way for you to get pissed on.  You gotta admire his diabolical tenacity.

            The best thing about phase two, is that plyometrics is still on Tuesdays. 

Did I say best?  I meant worst.  I hate Plyomtrics, I hate plyometrics more than Brett Favre, Pete Carroll, Manny Ramirez, and the Entire Los Angeles Dodgers organization combined.  Fuck them all, fuck them long…fuck them hard.  Onto the 5 things!

5 Things I Learned This Week!

1)      Quality Chinese food will be the death of me.  My father-in-law works next to this Chinese restaurant that churns out the best Chinese food I’ve ever eaten.  It’s become a little tradition to get carry out from there on Fridays.  Clearly, Friday’s have become the cheat day of the week.  The best thing is pops-in-law has developed a friendship with the chef/owner.  This means we don’t get the round-eye menu.  We get the traditional Chinese menu, which is far more delicious than your traditional orange chickens, and sweet and sour pork (which I’m not knocking, Daddy gets down on some sweet and sour pork).  We get some special soup with mushrooms, rice noodles, and shrimp which rocks the shit.  There is the Mandarin Calamari, homemade pork shu mai, some traditional Fried Rice, house made kim-chi (which I know is Korean, but I don’t care.  I would put that shit in my oatmeal), I could go on for days here.  So let me sum up.  This food is THE TITS!  I always just assume “I’ll be hungry in an hour!”  which means this food must be good for me. I stuff my plate to the brim, eat until I pass out, and then wake up and shit a jade dragon from the Ming Dynasty.  Saturday is a day of vegetables, and nothing but vegetables. 

2)      I can finally do pull ups without a chair.  By pull-ups I mean 1 ½.  1 ½ is more than 1; therefore, grammatically it requires a plural form of the noun.  Ipso facto, I can do pull-upS without a chair.

3)      The best time to weigh yourself is first thing in the morning.  I like to do it before I drain the sea-monster, and then again after.  Sometimes it’s as much as one whole pound!  The other best time to weigh yourself is immediately before and after dropping a deuce.  Sometimes the amount of weight lost there is ungodly.  My record so far is 3 lbs.  It’s like playing Keeno.  I guess the number, and then hope it shows up on the screen of the digital scale.  I WIN!

4)      My son can do pull-ups.  I hold him up to the bar, he likes to grab it, and pull himself up.  Of course I have a firm grip on him (I’m not Michael Jackson, and he’s not Blanket) but he pulls himself up.  He’s 10 months old and already asserting his dominance over his muffin-topped father.

5)      I learned that I have lost another pound this week, which puts me at 206.  Only 26 more pounds to go.  I think I may have to incorporate more cardio into the regimen, since Phase 2 of this Devil’s Hoe Down seems to want to incorporate more size.  So, I’ll be looking into getting back in the pool.  I used to swim competitively in school, and it’s probably getting to be time to pick that back up.  I’ve just been worried about my added buoyancy.  Immediately the song Baby Baluga comes to mind… 

Enjoy the short work week everyone!