The Blair Warner Project

OK, I found out you can go to Halloween Express on Friday night and see the same people you can see at the Fair -- for free! Yeah, we went in to see about getting Super Giant Killer a costyoom (she's thinking Cleopatra). Even though the stuff in the store is sold at horrifying prices, I wanted to stick around and witness the scary people that come in there. You think I'm talking about Goth kids or something, but I'm not. I'm pretty sure they drove over after they ran out of money on the Midway.

There was one woman in there looking intently at a row of costumes in the adult section (and I don't mean size-wise) who looked to be over 50 and about 5'2" and wore spandex pants in a blue the color of the old Crayola cornflower crayon and shoes kind of like this. The shirt was unremarkable, but she had on a really, really bad black wig that increased her mass by about 68%. And people, I got the distinct impression that this was not a temporary status, that she was not just trying on a costume and had stepped out of the dressing room for another size. When she moved on I went over to see what she had been perusing and they were these slutty French maid, stewardess, and Catholic school girl costumes. Then I see this lanky guy slathered in average-looking tattoos saunter up and spank her cornflower butt and off they go. Awwwww...

Then there was this bra-busting mother-of-at-least-two squawking at her kids about some $3.00 plastic swords while she was trying to find an M&M costume in her size - to no avail. Another treat was the entrance to the dressing room - and I wouldn't ponder that image too long - the sentinel placed there looked to be passed out. I'm not sure if it was due to exhaustion or long-term exposure to latex. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and concocted a story in my mind that she was probably a single mom who was working three jobs and by Friday night it had simply caught up to her. See, I really am compassionate and empathic.

Here's what we did when we got home:



SGK decided we would make our own almanac by writing down everything we know - but it had to be 'natural'. Unfortunately, bedtime arrived before the tome was complete. The aspen trees phrase was supposed to be included on line 2. Line 3 says 'to a CR a person is 2 inches tall'; a CR is California Redwood. Line 6 is 'Nuuk, Greenland has a subpolar climate' - I have no idea where she got that one.

I want to know why none of the female bloggers I link to has submitted a report on the Lisa Whelchel Womens' Conference which took place last weekend at a First Baptist church in a nearby bedroom community. I know it wasn't because none of you went. We're talking Lisa Whelchel, y'all. You know, Blair from Facts of Life? There could be no more inspiring conferee than she. She scrapbooks; she homeschools; she does conferences for women; she smiles alot; there can be no better guidepost for you gals. In fact, I think she was on the cover of Guideposts back in the early 90s. Oh well, I guess you'll have to catch her next week at the MomTime Get-A-Way in Monroe, Michigan. Or if God has blessed you with the riches you deserve (or healthy residuals from Nick at Nite), you could hire her as a Personal Mom Coach or you could go on the Premier Christian Cruises Music Boat with her. In the meantime the aforementioned church will be hosting Team Impact (and yes, you do have to watch the video). After that, be sure you go see Jesus Camp!! See you there.

Remember Me To One Who Lives There

We went to the Fair Tuesday evening, we four, and I went with the full intention of gathering fodder for this post. Not that full attention was not given to the family, but, y'know, I was keeping one eye open for blogmatter. I don't know if it was some sort of middle-aged ennui or what but it was definitely a case of plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. Let me say first, I will always go to the Fair. It doesn't matter what it costs, it is just something you have to do as a citizen. Voting and Fair attendance. Queen, you will always be a Texan because you don't go.

But you can only marvel at white trash for so long. A 250-pound woman in a miniskirt and high heels with a jumbo beer and a Marlboro in one hand and a six foot tall chartreuse coyote tucked under the other is remarkable at Penn Square Mall. At the Fair, in her natural habitat, it's not even a head-turner. When I was in college (in apparent marked contrast to Queen's and Gouldie's time there), my friends and I made sport of overtly ogling some gal, begging her beau to offer up the Holy Grail of smart-ass-response-invoking questions, "Whudderyoulookinat?!" Or the equally enticing, "Yougottaproblem?!" (That was only if it looked like he wasn't armed or had any friends in proximity) At first I thought, "I pretty well see that everyday at work, so it's no longer a treat." But then I realized, no, this is different -- they're wearing their dress-up clothes to the Fair, not their all-day-chatting-on-the-internet clothes. Even so, while I saw many slutty outfits, I'm not compelled to go on about it because it's been done. I myself wrote a piece every year on the Fair for the college newspaper. And whichever alternative-to-the-alternative newspaper is still in print on any given September is likely to have a white-trash-at-the-Fair piece. But...I...really...want...to... I noticed several gals had these potbellies and insisted on wearing bare-midriff shirts about two sizes too small. No. I'm not going to do this. But... I'm stopping now.

We had fun, though. We were there for four hours and we didn't even get to see everything. Our first stop was under the bigtop where we saw De'Anna, The Hypno-Chick. Her delivery was so loud and obnoxious I was pretty sure no one could possibly fall under hypnosis; a fact which was confirmed as the show progessed because most of her 'subjects' did not do a good enough acting job to sell this rube. But she was very attractive with her flouncy skirt and six inch heels... OK, I'm stopping. So we left. Of course, later on YHWH saw De'Anna leaning on a fence after the girls rode the Okie Zip and she had to go up and chat with her. That's why I married her, folks. She's everything I'm not. YHWH, I mean, not De'Anna. I mean De'Anna may also be everything I'm not, but I'm not married to her is what I mean. YHWH will usually extract the contact's origin story and academic credentials, so there's no end to the fascinating details she reports (because I had to stand off to the side). Of course the first thing she said was, "She doesn't look nearly as good up close. You can tell she's older than she looks on stage." Ah, women. Always looking out for each other. I'm always amazed at how even blue-state gals do this. No matter how refined, liberated or enlightened, they still put so much stock on appearance. But the Hypno-Chick was very friendly and very nice and she offered to shake the Killer's hand, but since the Killer had earlier seen her grab someone's hand and make them fall asleep, she was not wont to take it.

We also visited the various international peddlers and everyone purchased a small trinket. I'm still bummed that I didn't go back and buy some incense from the Tibetan booth. I waited because I wanted to see what the Indian booth had and then I forgot to go back. Killer was trying to be big time and did all of her own negotiations and purchases. The next morning she held up this little cloisonne box she got from one of the Andean booths and said, "Two dollahhh..." If that's not an educational payoff, what is?