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5:40 a.m. - 2003-10-13

MY BOY, THE DAREDEVIL

So the family went to the State Fair this weekend because I had free tickets and Andrew had reached the age where we thought he needed to be surrounded by thousands of white trash hillbillies in order to realize just how good he's got it at our house.

Jesus H. Horowitz.

They had to have bussed in some of those hillbillies from Mississippi and Arkansas because there ain't no way my state could hold that many toothless human oddities.

We walked through our local Coliseum onto the midway and were immediately greeted by a large woman with her hair in a loose bun, vomiting all over the sidewalk in front of everyone.

A puddle of yellow chunks rested at her feet as she forced her esophagus to churn up some more hot soup for the ants below.

This intrigued Andrew who has never vomited in his life and to the best of my knowledge has never seen anyone vomit.

Maybe he's seen it at daycare. There's no telling what household cleaners they're ingesting there on a daily basis.

But he's never seen a grown woman with four teeth belly up to the barfing bar in public. That much I feel relatively sure of.

So we stand there and watch the woman regurgitate for a few minutes and when she appears to be finished, I said in a clipped British accent "Bravo! Bravo!" and Andrew clapped.

She flipped us off and we scooted along.

Now, here's what I planned we would do at the Fair.

I thought we'd go see the Circus.

Then the racing pigs, which is a big hit at our Fair each year. I've never had any interest in seeing the racing pigs because ... well ... I'm not a fourth grade dropout.

Then we'd go to Bear Mountain and see the bears and the sea lion exhibit.

Maybe go in the stinking barn thing and see all the cows. Our Fair is also a livestock exposition with literally dozens of cows all over the place.

The Circus didn't start for another hour. The Racing Pigs had such a huge crowd that we couldn't see what was going on. Ironically, there were very few children there. Rather, there were just a shitload of hillbillies placing illegal bets on Petunia, who's apparently the Queen of the Racing Pigs.

We tried Bear Mountain, but he was less than impressed. To Andrew, it's not a real bear unless it lives in a Big Blue House and is friends with a wisecracking mouse named Tutter.

So what did my boy want to do?

Besides watch welfare mamas vomit up government cheese and corn dogs?

...My boy wanted to RIDE, baby!!

Lemme clarify ... my kid won't ride the little three horse carousel at Walmart. It terrifies him.

So I didn't think rides would even be on the list of options.

We walked past the big carousel at the Fair and he fought to get out of my arms.

I put him on the ground and he made a beeline for the rickety merry-go-round.

The ride, like all the others, cost two tickets.

That's two bucks.

I bought tickets for he and Susie and the kindly carnie with the heart of gold and copper said that Susie could ride for free.

She didn't even have to flash him, which I thought was nice.

He rode that, they came off of it and he burst into tears, having to ride it one more time.

Because he's a spoiled little brat who gets everything he wants everytime he manages to squeeze out a single tear, he rode it again.

Naturally, he didn't ride an actual acrylic horse. He had to ride in one of those sleighs they put on the thing for wussies and pregnant mothers.

But he rode it, which was impressive.

After the second time, Susie pried his fingernails out of the sleigh and we made out way around the fairgrounds.

I saw this big huge slide called "The Super Slide" which was about four stories tall.

I knew he wouldn't want to get on this because the kid is terrified of the slide on the swing set across the street.

So we walked over there and I made him watch a kid slide down on a potato sack.

Andrew squirmed out of my arms and ran right past the guy taking tickets to the stairs leading to the slide.

I told Susie she'd have to accompany him because I've got this whole crippling fear of heights thing working against me.

Susie handed the guy two tickets and he waved her on to get Andrew.

Andrew HAD to walk up each of the 98 steps to the top by himself which caused a major traffic jam of angry nine year-olds behind him. I asked Susie why she didn't carry him and she said she would have definitely fallen backwards if she had carried him because of her own vertigo.

He gets to the top and sits in Susie's lap.

The carnie at the top gives Susie a push and a grope and she starts flying down the slide.

Andrew is TERRIFIED.

I've never seen such fear on the kid's face. I got the diaper wipes and fresh diaper ready because I was positive the kid had shit himself over this one.

They get to the bottom and he breaks out into a huge grin.

He jumps out of Susie's lap.

And makes a beeline back in line to do it again.

So they do it again. This time, he no longer looks as terrified. He's still apprehensive coming down, but loving it.

He then rode a stupid little train that was a complete waste of money and an old fashioned car around a track. I rode that with him because Susie was tired of riding rides and I felt pretty sure that I wouldn't get off the car wanting to vomit my intestines out.

I let Andrew drive because I'm a good Daddy.

But you can bet your ass I wanted to drive.

Andrew drove for about ten feet and realized that it didn't matter if he steered the car or not, it was on a track.

So he sat back and was positively bored with me.

I get the feeling he'll forever associate puss rides with his old man.

At this point, we had been at the fair for two hours and I was tired of carrying the kid everywhere so we came home.

We even got to see another person vomit. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl, but it was a puke fountain on overdrive going to town outside the Coliseum.

Had anyone bothered to ask me, I could have pointed out that it ain't cool to wolf down a Polish Sausage and a couple of Funnel Cakes and then board a ride that's going to spin you around at astronaut-training speeds while being suspended upside down 800 feet in the air.

I mean...duh.


Also saw "Kill Bill" this weekend which marks the first film I've seen in a movie theater since "Ocean's Eleven" if you don't count "Jungle Book 2" which I don't because we left halfway through that film once Andrew got bored.

I'm not a big fan of kung-fu movies. I went through an extremely quick Bruce Lee phase in college.

Meaning I saw a Bruce Lee movie in college.

But I'm a huge Tarrantino fan. And like Disco, I just wanna punch the guy silly every time I hear him speak. Nobody and I mean NOBODY should be allowed to do that much coke and then get in front of a movie camera to sing their own praises like a muppet with Tourette's.

The film has its moments.

I like the little 17 year-old bodyguard. She just looked cool as hell.

I liked the music.

I liiiiiiiiked....hmmm. What else did I like?

I liked the cliffhanger.

Bottom line ... I liked the film okay.

I'm sure I'll like it more when it comes out on DVD.

Which won't be for a while because they're releasing both segments of "Kill Bill" on separate DVDs so that you will have to spend even more money when it comes out on home video.

Then six months later, they'll issue the special two-disc edition that will have both films in one case with bonus features at yet another astronomical price.

At least they won't have a director's commentary included.

Because Miramax is smart enough to know that NOBODY wants to sit and listen to an amped-up Quentin Tarrantino spout his inane bullshit for three non-stop hours.

Christ.

That's the kinda shit they use to torture POWs with.

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