02 September, 2011

It's Friday: Let's Piss Off the Minnesota State Fair!

Coming up in October, I will have been here for five years, meaning that this state fair is "my" fourth. I put "my" in quotation marks because I have never been to the fair and I don't intend to go any time soon.
When ever friends ask me if I'm going, I say, No. When they ask me why, I outline for them, in detail, my rationale: Sunburn.
Oh, you were waiting for more? No, that's seriously it: Sunburn. Sunburn is the detail.
But if you want a sundry list of reasons, here it is: I do not particularly want to pay to park a half mile from the gate where I have to pay to get in to where I have to pay for food that is only food in the sense that it goes through my digestive system before paying for rides that empty out said digestive system then paying for tacky souvenirs that serve no function once outside of the fair and pay the price of a six pack for a twelve ounce Dixie cup of warm and watered down Bud before having to pay to see the bands all the while walking down a thoroughfare surrounded by smells of manure from the petting zoos on one side and watching the appalling waste of food that are the butter sculptures on the other side and getting jostled about by sweaty and inconsiderate fair goers and standing in line with a full bladder and a wicked case of rot-gut for twenty five minutes at the portapotty while getting a fucking sunburn. That's why.
Call me a hater if you want. I'll concede that had I not had to work double shifts last Thursday and Friday that I would've gladly gone and seen Morris Day and the Motherfucking Time on the free stage. Fuck, I really wanted to see Def Leppard (with Heart opening) but that was Friday as well, not to mention that the cheapest ticket was forty one beans. You know, on top of having to pay just to get on premises, so in the end it would have cost me fifty three dollars. For fifty three dollars, Def Leppard better play nothing but Pyromania and Hysteria in their entirety (they will also be required to play "Bringin' on the Heartbreak" from High 'n' Dry as an encore) and I should get to have tame, run of the mill, missionary position sex with Nancy Wilson. (Hey, I know what a dollar's worth and that Nancy Wilson, not to mention all women in general, are not going to want to get mind blowingly bonkers with a schlub like me for less than a solid hundy.)
Look, it's not that I don't want to - OK, so it is because I don't want to go. There's no incentive for me to go, at all. The rides? Fuck no. You aint getting me on one of those death contraptions. "Oh, but Charlie, thanks to modern safety precautions, the statistical likelihood of something going awry is next to nil." Next to nil? Next to nil? Fuck you. I want exactly nil. And you know how I can ensure that outcome? By not getting on the fucking ride. I mean, look at this shit:
The food? I think I've proven over and over again that I can goddamned cook for myself. So the state fair has chocolate covered jalapeƱo poppers (ranked the number one new fair food by Vita.MN), so what? I called my brother the minute I saw that - OK, so it was after I pointed it out to Theresa - and we figured out how to make those our damned selves in, like, two minutes. You think you're getting some big elaborate four or five course meal at the state fair? Fuck no you aint getting an elaborate, hardy meal with complex and complimenting flavors that a sous chef spent time preparing with delicacy and care. You're getting deep fried [insert something not good for you here] on a stick! They take something that shouldn't be deep fried, they ram a popsicle stick up its ass, they dip it in hot oil that hasn't been changed since the stand opened up, and they hand it to you for four bucks. I mean, look at what they did at the Iowa state fair, ferfucksake. That is not good for you and you should not eat that. Any other concoction, though, you can make yourself and make it better and cheaper at home. "Oh, Charlie, it's the atmosphere!" Oh, you mean the atmosphere that smells like the goddamned petting zoo down the way and a ten minute line for shitty deep fried food? No. No. No no no no no.
That it's only once a year? That's not an incentive, that's a blessing.
So, thank you, fair state of Minnesota for inviting me to blow half of my paycheck on food that isn't good for me and rides that will turn my bowels inside out when they aren't trying to mangle me and have my olfactory nerves assaulted by waste from adorable animals that probably aren't having the best time with squealing little kids climbing all over them, but I think I'll pass. I don't want a sunburn.


  1. Your lazy ass didn't go see Morris Day and the muthafuckin Time for FREE?!?!?! What the Fuck, Chuck.

  2. Perhaps your illiterate ass missed the part where I wrote about having to work a double shift both nights.


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