My Last 72 Hours

I'm Catholic.  I think I've mentioned that before.  I heart Catholicism.  Even the cumbersome Catholic aerobics - stand up, sit down, kneel down - doesn't bother me.  Probably because the Catholic aerobics are offset by the beer tents & bingo that we Catholics are known for.  We Catholics know how to party it up, believe you me.  And beer tents and bingo are only made better when they exist within the confines of the "parish festival."  The parish festival - for some, it's the social event of the season.  For me and my slight touch of OCD, it's an effing nightmare - just sayin'.  Can you even fathom the number of germ colonies that multiply on the puke laden Salt & Pepper Shaker ride?  I'm breaking out into hives as we speak.

Our parish festival was this weekend.  And while it wasn't the social event of my season, my spawn can't get enough of the damn thing.  I spent $80 in a record time of 45 minutes.  I shit you not.  That's like gluttonous and sinful, isn't it?  I should have stopped off in the confessional after I was done watching the dumbass moron blow chunks on the Salt & Pepper Shakers considering that the confessional was mere yards away.  And somebody really did puke on that ride in case you think I'm making this shit up.  She blew chunks, dragged her puke soaked body off the ride and then the "carnie" grabbed a hose, squirted out the cage and was back in business in less then 2 minutes flat.  There are no words to express my level of disgust.  I do have pictures though - for your viewing enjoyment.  Not of the puking lady - you can thank me for that later.  But here is a small taste of the last 72 hours of JillyD's life...

The cake walk.  For a small fee of one dollar, you get to walk your ass around a 5x5 square, landing on strategically placed squares, while the jackass behind you steps on your heels and draws blood.  Then with any luck, you land on the "winning" square and then you get to choose your cake.  A cake that was made in the kitchen of somene you don't know - which means you have no idea as to how much emphasis this person places on personal hygiene.  For example, does this person pick their nose and then flick their boogers into the cake batter, thinking nothing of it?  We'll never know since the cakes come from strangers.  Strangers who may have roaches in their kitchen.  Or who may pick their nose and eat it or may itch themselves in various and sundry locations during the baking process.  I hate the fucking cake walk.  And just to make my life miserable, guess who the hell won a germ infested cake?  Baked, I'm sure, by a nose picking scratcher.  That would be The Girl.  Let's add a little more fodder to the situation, shall we?  She chose "white cake with fluffy white frosting."  What the hell?  Obviously she was switched at birth because no child born of my loin would choose anything other than chocolate - just sayin'...

After the debacle of the cake walk, we headed toward the "Midway" to check out the rides.  If you thought the cake walk was the end all for me, guess again.  The rides will no doubt result in my early death.  Not from riding them.  Oh hell no, I wouldn't get anywhere near those death traps.  But somehow I manage to find the strength & courage to place the two things that I hold nearest & dearest to my heart, directly into the clutches of these steely killers.  For the love of God - am I insane?  Don't answer that.  This is called the "Cliff Hanger" - it looks real safe, doesn't it?

Part of my terror stems from the lovely folks that actually assemble these rides.  The majority of these people have no teeth.  Which means they aren't smart enough to brush them to ward off the tooth decay.  Which means - and I'm going out on a limb here - that they probably aren't smart enough to assemble a ride that is going to launch the fruit of my womb, 20 feet into the air.  Or at least they aren't smart enough to correctly assemble said ride.  I'm sure any moron can put the damn thing together.  But the point is to assemble it so that my kids don't get smashed to the ground during their 3 minute stint on the death trap.  For example, raise your hand if you think he looks smart enough to assemble the Cliff Hanger...

Looking, looking - I'm seeing no hands in the air.  So we can all agree, that besides being an effing train wreck, this guy should not be allowed to assemble any large machinery, right?  On a side note, I look at this and thank God every minute of every day for my Mach One.  Can you imagine that men like this are waiting out in the world.  Not that I should judge him - maybe he has a great personality.  I thnk I'm just jealous because he has bigger boobs then me.  And I'm guessing he hasn't seen the likes of his penis in probably 15 years.  Not that I want to contemplate his penis in any way, shape or form.  Let's move onto the next misfit, shall we?

Apparently the American Idol gig didn't work out for Ruben since we found him running the Scrambler at the carnival.  Poor Ruben - the stress of being famous has clearly gotten to him.  He's smoking now and decided to grow his hair out.  Maybe so that no one will recognize him - that must be it.  Ruben's boobs are bigger than mine too.  What the hell?

Who knew there were so many celebrities in our midst?  I'm pretty sure that this gal was the real life inspiration behind Maxine.  You know who Maxine is, right?  The crabby ass old lady on the Hallmark cards?

I think this might be her.  Or her sister.  Or maybe it's her mother.  There's clearly a connection there, wouldn't you agree?

Her tongue adds so much to the photo.  As do the rifles that are laying right next to her.  And let's not forget the cigarette.  I think she bummed it off of Ruben - just sayin'.

I'm pretty sure that if any one of us checks the America's Most Wanted list, we'll find this guy.  Was he in the movie, "Natural Born Killers?"  I'm thinking, yes - but that's just me.  I'm sure he was a lovely man - in a serial killer sort of way.  At least his shirt was clean.  See how I can find the good in everyone?

I spent $15 at Serial Killer's booth.  The Girl ended up sinking two hoops and we are now the proud owners of these fine new additions to our homestead...

Parker is quite happy with the newest members of our family.  He's claimed "Pug-O" as his own.  I walked in on him getting "intimate" with Pug-O.  That made me throw up in my mouth - just a little. So I spent $15 and Parker has a new hump buddy.  As far as Romeo is concerned, it was money well spent.

The carnies weren't the only freaks that peppered the Midway.  There was a kid on a leash.  Not that it was her fault that she was on a leash.  It was clearly her mother's issue.  But funny as hell, nonetheless.

And what's a good Catholic party without a few nuns to get things really fired up?  I heart nuns.  I don't understand them but I heart them.  Why would anyone choose to not have s-e-x for their entire life?  These gals have obviously never met anyone as skilled as Mach One - just sayin'.  But God bless them for choosing their life of celibacy.  And thank God the rest of us didn't have to take that vow.  Although I'm pretty sure there are a lot of married men out there who are nearly convinced that they have taken a vow of celibacy.  But they're just whiner babies.  Here are the faces of true celibacy - poor things, they have no clue what they're missing...

Why does this picture make me start to hum, "You're the one that I want, you are the one I want - whoo, hoo, hoo, honey, the one that I want?"  Certainly not because my son knocked anyone up in the backseat of a car or anything like that.  But this crazy ass spinning tube thing is clearly reminiscent of the "Shake Shack," wouldn't you agree...

He's the next John Travolta.  No lie.  After he popped out of the half pipe, I managed to drag both of them out of the hordes of germ colonies and back to our very sanitary home.  They soaked in bleach for about 3 hours and then all was well in the world.  Until we went back the next day - and the day after that.  It was a vicious cycle.  Thank God it only happens once a year - it takes me that long to recover.

Comments

[Mach One]

I used this comment before when we were at the Great Wolf Lodge, but here we go again. Did he put that shirt on and and actually think he looked good when viewing himself in the mirror? I can not be good when your saggy stomach is hanging outside your shirt.

[Bandcamp]

My cheeks hurt from smiling!!! You are so hilarious! Now is the time to start saving money in an envelope marked "parish festival" for next year! It's a great way to bring the community together. Those carnies are a different breed...that's for sure!

[Yo!]

You neglected to comment on the fact the puke-spewing woman managed to expell the contents of her stomach not only "on" the Salt and Pepper shakers but "through" the grates on the ride's cage. Certainly a lovely sight!! Fortunately for her, said carnie was galant enough to hose her down before "cleaning(?)" the ride!

My eldest daughter reminded me of the toothless woman who had a thicker mustache than her father! A grand time was had by all!