Fairly Fair

Ah, the Garnier School yearly school fair. Ah, the chaos. Ah, the ridiculously expensive prices. Ah, the rigged arcade games. Ah, the convincing Max to come instead of seeing John Kerry speak. Ah, the walking aimlessly around with Ben talking about. . .well. . .talking about. . .

Er. Never mind that.

And, just to torture you guys, ah, the hanging out with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But enough of this. Allow me to tell you how the day went. Well, I got up. At nine o' clock. From a dream that the up key on my keyboard was working. It doesn't now, it thinks it's the H key. Something wrong already - I'm late for my shift, considering how long it takes me to dress, eat, dry my Goddessdamned hair, etc., etc.. I dash downstairs, scream incoherently at my mom that we have to go, find I have forgotten my towel, which I ended up not needing, ran back up to get it, grabbed an apple, ate it, ran into the car, yawned, ran for Interim-President of Iraq, braided my hair into cornrows, sang every song from PotO several times, hurt my voice, bashed my head against the window by accident, unbraided my hair, attempted to rap like Ceaser from the Boondocks, did not succeed, grinned, laughed, saw my mother, screamed that we had to go, cast PotO in my head, thought about how much I hated Julian Sands, killed Paris Hilton, stalked several chorus girls, dropped a chandelier, and maniacally laughed.

This confused my mother. A bit.

Well, to make a long story short, I lost the election for Interim President, and we left for the fair. When we arrived, I was greeted by the usual onslaught of girls in too short skirts, one of whom I did not know, as she was from another school. In fact, I didn't know a lot of them, but that's beside the point. Point is that I was wearing a very thick coat, and well, my hair is shorter than most girl's hair, and I think she thought I was male, considering she came onto me. This was vaguely traumatizing. I swallowed, then said in my best evil Erik voice, "Mademoiselle, do I look like a boy to you?" I think the French scared her off. Max and Ben, you two have no idea how much I wanted to tell you this at the fair, but I was saving it for the blog. Sorry.

We had a cabana at the fair, which was quite nice. It was a little overkilly, and since we had so much bottled soda the lack of a bottle opener was a little offputting, but on the whole it was nice. I saw Max, who was, of course, wearing a Richard Nixon shirt that said Dick on it and a Villaraigosa pen. I refrained from Punjabbing him. Barely. It was at this point that I met the fourth reader of this blog, who only reads it occasionally and doesn't understand a word of it. If she's reading this, I'll have her know that's not a bad thing. It may even be a good thing. Hey, I don't even fully understand it. You'd have to ask Erika and Ely. Who is this person? You may well ask. Ben's mother. And, Ben, she has given me damning evidence that Punjab is a word! You use it around the house! You use it! Don't be hypocritical. And do not try the hypocrite hypothesis on me again. I'll go completely crazy.

Is the parachute drop and ferris wheel at the fair getting slower, or am I getting faster?

Ben: The room's getting smaller!

Max: No it's not, she's getting bigger!

Kat: (Plays PotO overture on convenient mini keyboard which pops out of conveniently zebra print wall) Ah, the musical lock. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the chocolate room.

Ben and Max: . . .

Ely: Whee! Choccies! (Jumps into room.) Yaha!

Ben: None of those are words.

Max: No, but there's chocolate to be had! (Follows Ely.)

Ben: . . .Willy Wonka moment?

Kat: Yeah.

Anyway. I went on quite a few rides this year, it was a little odd for me, and I didn't go on the Gravitron even once. That's pretty amazing for me. Not even once. Last time I went on it five times. Five very long, fascinating, centrigual force-ifying times. Ah, the joy. I've lost the innocence that allowed me to be so easily entertained.

Later on I actually succeeded in finding Max and Ben, not just their mothers. What I find very entertaining about this is that when I did find him, Max was being very indignant about his sister having hacked his computer. Oddly enough, I knew before him. It seems as if everyone did, from Micheala to me. I find this so infinitely entertaining. I know, I know, I'm a terrible person, Punjab me now. But you've got to admit that this is pretty funny. Ben, if you scold me then I will merely point out the way you tortured Max with that hat.

I have, by the way, discovered that all Maxs share one common denominator. They all wear baseball caps sometimes, and almost all of them really do not like it when confusing people named Ben steal said caps. Terribly annoys them. I'm not sure if all of them have oral fixations like our Max and chew pens, etc., but we shall have to ask Maximillian. And I don't care what he said, I still say that Maximillian is a terrible name to waste. I love that name!

Party on!
Say that you remember
Party on!
Lyric I don't remember!

I'm so sorry. I have had that song stuck in my head all day. It's driving me absolutely mad. I don't even like the song! Let me try another song.

And I'm here
To remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair
To deny me
Something Alanis doesn't enunciate
What you did to me
You, you, you, oughta know!

Too angsty. Sorry. Let's try something in a lighter vein.

The sleepless nights
The daily fights
The quick toboggan when you reach the heights
I miss the kisses and I miss the bites
I wish I were in love again
The broken dates
The endless waits
The lovely loving and the hateful hates
The oh-so-American-Beauty-esque conversation with the flying plates
I wish I were in love again. . .

Oh lord. I can be quite tangenty, can't I? It must be the Monty Python. Yes, I stayed up way too late watching Python last night.

Kat: (Walks through chocolate river to sit down at desk.) And now for something completely different.

Eric Idle as Chef: What is this, you. . .evil. . .evil. . .girl? You have written this long, terrible blog, forced everyone to sit through it, read it, and ponder it, including the Sinatra lyrics? Ohhhh, it makes me maaaad! Maaaad! Maaaad. . . (Begins twisting neck a little disturbingly.)

Max: (Stares openly.)

Erika: Don't mind it. Just ignore it. I promise, it will go away.

Ben: We will take your arguably sane word for it.

Erika: Unwise.

Kat: Probably.

Chef: (Attacks Oompa Loompa with large meat cleaver.)

Max: Should we. . .do something?

Kat: Why?

Ben: Because a member of Monty Python is attacking an Oompa Loompa with a large meat cleaver.

Kat: Yes, I know.

Max: You truly frighten me.

Erika: We pride ourselves on it.

Ben: I'm sure you do.

Er, right, weren't we talking about the fair?

I walked around, either following Ben or having Ben follow me, either talking about something intangible or talking about what we were talking about or talking about nothing at all. Or, alternatively, talking to myselves about why I was talking to Ben about whatever we were talking about.

The only other notable thing was the rather random gum we recieved. I mean, it was clove flavored. Where do you find clove flavored gum? Really. I mean, really.

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.