It’s almost my favorite time of the year! COUNTY FAIR TIME. I am absolutely giddy over here, looking through old photos of the fairs. GIDDY.

I am determined to try to make it to all of them this summer. With the exception of the Washington County Fair.

That might have been not only the worst fair I’ve been to, but also the worst day of last summer. Will not be revisiting.

I LOVE FAIR PEOPLE! I LOVE THE RIDES! I LOVE WRITING ABOUT THE STUPID COUNTY FAIR! If any of you locals want to meet up at any of the fairs (NOT THE WASHINGTON COUNTY ONE, THOUGH) let me know and we will make it into a party.

I took these with my iPhone Saturday evening when we were walking across the bridge back to Station Square from the art festival to distract myself from the fact that OMG I’M WALKING ACROSS A BRIDGE & GOING TO PERISH!

I hate bridges and rivers. I live in Pittsburgh, so I’m doing a LOT of hating on a daily basis.

It took me at least eight tries to spell “Wednesday.” Also, I posted this while sitting in a pew at CHURCH.

It was too nice on Sunday to spend the day indoors at the roller rink, so I suggested we go back to Old Economy Park and get our nature on.

“But you hate nature,” Henry reminded me hesitantly.

“That’s not true! Only sometimes,” I argued, forgetting that my “sometimes” actually means “all of the time.

”

I grabbed some old school Fall Out Boy (as in: pre-mainstream explosion) and Finch for old time’s sake, and we actually had an enjoyable, leisurely Sunday joyride to the park, which is no small feat when there’s a  hyperactive five-year-old in the backseat. I’m pretty sure he has nature’s equivalent of Pixie Stix and Pop Rocks coursing through his bloodstream on a daily basis.

We were at the park for ten minutes, but probably much less, before I started bitching about bugs and humidity and foreign stenches. Then I walked through a spider web and bitched about that for awhile.

If you ask Henry, he’ll tell you his favorite part was when I started sliding down a muddy deer path and gained so much momentum that the only way I could stop myself was by slamming into and promptly hugging a tree.

But if you ask me, I’ll tell you my favorite part was taking pictures of Henry pissing on God’s landscape and then swearing to Chooch that I heard Jason Voorhees in the woods. Because it’s not truly Sunday afternoon until urine, fear and paranoia enter the picture.

MOIST.

The only thing in between me and full-fledged cat lady status is Henry’s weener.

Though, according to Chooch, that’s furry too.

07 08 042, originally uploaded by appledale.

I love the expression on that ginger’s face; makes me crack up every time.

July feels so fucking far away.

Chooch, circa 2007

Me, circa 1986-ish?

In other news, Henry has been on vacation all week and it’s really hindering my blogging diligence; all I want to do is sit around in filth and watch the Game Show Network with him.

I’m about to go get my hair cut. Jennifer Aniston just got hers cut and she’s pretty much my idol, follicularly and otherwise,  so of course I had to follow suit. One day a few weeks ago, I made an off-hand comment while watching her on Conan that she’s the most beautiful person in the world.

Chooch glanced at the TV and said, “Um, actually, no she’s not.

“

Where did I go wrong with him. Stop raising your hands so fast, you’re going to start popping sockets.

I like how it appears that Henry is pre-punch.