No, I'm not dead. But see, if you were on the notify list you would've known that. Among other things.
I'm in the process of moving. No, not out of Cowtown (how I wish that I was) but to another apartment.
My very first apartment all by my lonesome, as a matter of fact. No, Mo and I didn't have a falling out. It's just that our lease ended in April, we were going month to month, we both wanted a shorter commute bloo blah. So, since we were set on moving out of this house, it didn't seem to make much sense to find somewhere else together. I'm 25, I should try living on my own for once, right?
I'm really excited about it, but nervous too. Who will I watch Fear Factor with? You mean, there won't be anyone to cook me dinner? Who will clean the bathroom?
And Montego is going to miss the shiznizz out of Mo, too. We'll both be sad, lonely puppies for awhile.
But on the whole, I'm pretty excited about it.
So in between packing and divving up our movies, clothes and shoes, we decided to take a break and hit the final day of the Ohio State Fair. People, if you've never been to a state fair, or a county fair for that matter, you are seriously missing out on one of life's greatest people watching adventures.
It's better than any amusement park.
While you eat elephant ears and corn dogs, and drink Lemon Shake Ups, you can study the teenage moms, the 12-year-olds prancing around in their self-embellished jeans, (One girl had a pair of jeans on with one leg cutoff Daisy Duke style. I would've killed for my camera.) and other rare, uh, sightings. (Like the guy who sells his spray paint art for hundreds of dollars. But "NO" switching once you've picked out your piece. I've never understood the arbitrary use of quotation marks. "Ever.")
And good lord, when did the Ohio State Highway Patrol start recruiting at John Casablanca classes?
We ate our way around the midway and gawked at the hoochie mamas. (It's a fair, that's what I don't get. Why do need to have your breasts hanging out at the FAIR?) Now, I'm completely exhausted and I can still taste the lemon shakeup. (Sugar water with a lemon in it. Only two whole dollars.)
And on a completely unrelated (swear-littered) note, Mo, Miranda and I started doing this stupid thing that we think is hilariously funny. See, what had happened was, is that the area of town we live in is all quaint and historic and thus the streets are all brick and on Friday night we were walking to the bar district and Miranda sort of stumbles and shouts "Geez Louise!" (Keep in mind that this is a girl who screams "dammit" or "motherfucker" when she misses a shot in pool.)
So we start going, Whoopsie daisies! and making fun of her, when I'm like - "Oh my lands! I am almost fell on my fucking ass!" So all night we would say something like "Gracious! I tripped on my slutass shoes!" etc.
Whatever, my precious lambs. It's fucking funny.
And happy belated birthday (it was yesterday) to T! Happy 25th, Tito. Go rent yourself a car or somethin'.
The notify wants roasted corn and a funnel cake.
