* Friday night, we ate at a funky little cafe across from the state fairgrounds. We were there for maybe an hour and the entire time a grim-faced Mexican stood nearby joylessly twirling rainbow-colored glow sticks. Our waitress had once been a dude, or was in the process of becoming a dude, and the music being played over the joint's PA was an intensely knuckleheaded album of flamenco guitar covers of 1970s classic rock radio staples. On the way home, however, I played Earthless, who are awesome.
* Speaking of awesome, Angie is beyond awesome. Also, she has a cat named Musket, who is awesome. Her apartment appears to have more rats in the walls than an H.P. Lovecraft anthology, but it's fun to try and figure out what they're doing. She is an absolutely fantastic hostess and a good friend, and she let me get her hooked on The Wire as well as hooking me on Metalocalypse. Huzzah, Angie!
* I was not, happily, involved in any further auto accidents while in Dallas. However, my rental car did seem to attract a large number of loathsome insects, many of whom made the trunk their home or their tomb.
* There was a "Crafts Tent" at the fair that seemed to be, essentially, a huge, covered flea market. One shop featured little carved wooden signs with hand-painted sayings and slogans of an extremely hackneyed variety ("We don't swim in your toilet, please don't pee in our pool", etc.) Oddly, there was a notice posted at this shop warning people that they not only must not take photos of any of the signs, but also that they must not write down any of the sayings, which is especially odd since all of them seemed to come from 35-year-old issues of Reader's Digest. I wonder if you are allowed to remember the sayings? If not, I am guilty.
* Another theme of the Crafts Tent was infant/toddlerwear that horribly and inappropriately sexualized the wearer. One read "WHAT HAPPENS AT GRANDMA'S STAYS AT GRANDMA'S", appropriating the phrase often used to cover up felonies and marital infidelity; another, a sure-fire must-wear for your next Purity Ball, read "I FOUND MY PRINCE CHARMING...HIS NAME IS DADDY". My favorite, however, has to be "I'M TOO SEXY FOR MY DIAPER". The words 'sexy' and 'diaper' should never appear in a sentence together.
* The agriculture pavilion seemed to be a wholly owned subsidiary of the Dr. Pepper Corporation. We learned that one was once expected to order Dr. Pepper by saying "shoot me a Waco", which I'm pretty sure never happened. I purchased some Dr. Pepper beef jerky (the latter being marinated in the former), which I later learned tastes nothing like the soda in question, and Angie somehow cajoled me into eating dog food, thus reducing the number of things I will not do if a woman tells me to do it to zero.
* Things I ate: a Frito pie (good but small); a crawfish sausage (peppery and greasy), a deep-fried guacamole bite (heavenly). (Angie's friend Carlos ate a deep-fried latte, and expressed some fear that it might send him into a caffeinated sugar coma.) Things I learned about animals: if you give an alpaca a Beatle haircut and let it roll around in sawdust for six hours, it looks just ridiculous; some people like to dress zebu up in fancy-dress costumes; cows can shit my entire body weight in three seconds.
* Angie bought a belt buckle with a crazy wizard and a crystal ball and a dragon and possibly a bong on it at the Exhibit Hall. I spent my time there goggling at the "Evangelical Rodeo Association", who had a big painting on display of what the Rapture is going to look like, and a crazy diorama that seemed to be arguing that the next time Venus gets really close to Earth, Jesus is going to come again.
* I did not go on any rides, because I do not enjoy vomiting, nor did I pet any farm animals, because I do not enjoy contracting debilitating diseases. I did, however, drink a lot of bad, overpriced liquor.
* The mascot of the Texas State Fair is a huge mechanical robot cowboy named Big Tex. He towers motionless over the fairgoing crowds, terrifying them with his creepy fixed glare, and occasionally says something folksy in his giant robot cowboy voice. Like most celebrities, he talks about himself in the third person; unlike most celebrities, he has an exclusive endorsement deal with Dickies. Those who know me and my retarded adolescent ways will be unsurprised to hear that I spent much of my time at the fair placing horribly inappropriate words in Big Tex's mouth.
* Hands down the oddest thing I saw at the fair: an African-American couple, likely in their early 30s, dressed in hip-hop gear -- tricked-out Nikes, baggy shorts, long white tees, flat-brim ballcaps -- walking down the midway. The odd thing about their clothing is not that it was all customized (colored, airbrushed, hand-lettered, and painted), but that it was all customized around the theme of...Kellogg's Corn Flakes. Their shoes were hand-painted in Corn Flakes orange and blue; their hats featured personally-crafted airbrush portraits of Tony the Tiger; and their t-shirts bore the slogan "GO AHEAD AND HATE, YOU KNOW I LOVE MY FLAKES". Basically, they were hardcore bangers, only instead of a gang, their set is a breakfast cereal.
* Sunday we had some terrific dim sum in Richardson, and then set off to do some shopping. I picked up a snazz t-shirt, some new kicks (shut up), and a hoodie at American Apparel. I like the hoodie, but something about that store makes me want to set fire to it, with all the employees inside. Also, what adult male wears an XXS t-shirt? Honestly. They had no jeans with anything more than a 34-inch waistline, in keeping with the White People Rule of High Fashion that says no one over 175 pounds should be allowed to wear decent clothes, but every fucking men's t-shirt in the store was available in an XXS size. I know children who can't wear an XXS. To recap, thanks for the great hoodie, American Apparel, now eat a dick.
I'm sure I'm forgetting many great stories from the weekend, but long + short, I had an amazing time -- fun, relaxing, stress-free, exactly what I needed. And now it's back to the grind.
Photos, perhaps, to follow, though my photography skills were at an all-time low this weekend. I especially want to post a picture of the Chinese restaurant called, I believe, Egg Roll Hut (help me out here, solipsiae?), which featured a big retro-style sign, at the top of which was...an ice cream cone. Ah, America. God bless us every one.