And I’m Missing You, And Nobody Knows it But Butt

To some extent the computer issues have been resolved. I got one from the ROC, thanks to Mr. Ken, whom we met up with yesterday afternoon when I journeyed accross Western New York to do a ridiculously small amount of paperwork. We had a tasty Mexican lunch and talked about the upcominig topic, season, etc. Chimichangas are not good for you, that is the most profound insight I developed during the experience. Not to say there weren’t some quality ideas regarding China and differing forms of pressure that might be exerted upon it. This computer suffers from a good number of maladies, but most important is that the battery licks its own nuts. Anyway, while the general warranty is still in effect, the battery is only covered for a year, so I just have to remain tethered until yet another laptop is ordered and received by the debate squad. Regardless, Katie no longer has to share her computer, which is the best case situation for everyone, Hippo included.

We are 5, count ‘em, 5 days from The Great Motherfuckin’ Minnesota Get-Together. I was fortunate enough to get there last year, spending the day with A.J. and his little hombre. We will not be returning to Minnesota this August and each of the very very few times in my life I have missed the State Fair I have been saddened. Even some 960 miles from the area between Snelling and Cleveland, Como and Larpenteur, there starts to be a buzz in the air near late August. I think there is a cosmic glow in the force the moment the mini-donuts booth on Judson fires up the donut machines for the first time, when the doors are unlocked to the food building and the cheese-curdish love that has been bottled up for around 340 days is unleashed, when the kids who work at Sweet Martha’s begin to rehearse the cry that rings in every child’s heart of “cookies please!”, when the milk tanker pulls up accross the street from the barns, the oven-baked brownie booth, the icee stand, and just away from the Australian battered potatoes, when single-occupant root beer barrels are rehooked to their taps, when the giant slide gets nicely lubed up, when REO Speedwagon turns their mid-nineties model Chevy Astro Van towards the grandstand, or when the first blessed wiener takes a dip in Pronto-Pup batter.

I love the fair. It is without a doubt my 100% absolute favorite place in the world. If I was a man of leisure I could go to the fair every day and be happy. One of my dreams in life is to have the time and the money to sample every booth in the same year. I mean, I don’t need 10 different caramel apples, but I would really prefer to be able to say for certain which is the best. If I ever do get to live such a dream I can assure you that Pronto Pups and cheese curds are on the menu each and every time I enter. I will be with all of you fairgoers in spirit, so enjoy the fresh cut fries for me and don’t forget to take a bag of cotton candy home after you walk up what will always, in my heart, be machinery hill.

We went to Target last night, cuz Katie loves Target and especially loves going shopping at ridiculous times. When we hit the pharmacy to purchase some Tylenol Sinus, which, if you were curious, completes the analogy “Crackheads:crack::Katie: ???”, we were greeted not by the friendly green box, but a card hanging above the shelf. It told us that because Tylenol Sinus, and by the looks of it 50ish other everyday OTCs including NyQuil, DayQuil, some Tussins, and other, contained psuedo-ephedrine, since it can conceivable be used to make meth, is behind the pharmacy counter and can only be purchased during hours when the pharmacy is open. Apparently this is a New York State Law, which just goes to show that even in this part of the country, almost everyone is stupider than a self-buttfucking llama. I don’t think many people make meth out of Tylenol but even if they do, you gotta choose, either make it a controlled substance or let me buy it. I also don’t know how making it accessible only via the pharmacy prevents me from using it for meth anyway, like your desire to get meth overcomes the dangerous chemistry involved but not the inconvenience of talking to the pharmacist or going to multiple locations. I wouldn’t have cared if I needed to get a manager to unlock the door and grab me something which is about as dangerous to the general public as Diet Pepsi with Lime, but to say that after 6 or whatever I have to overpay at Walgreens so winners who failed high school chemistry don’t blow up the basement full of High Life empties and overflowing ashtrays of Basic Menthol 100s is ricockulous.

Hippo thinks that was slight overkill. She may have a point, but I may also be blinded by her kittenosity. So cute.

Peace,

MB-K