(no subject)
It took a sustained glance inside the booth at Mom’s Milk Shack for the pieces to click. Stool, blankets, lotion, wet wipes…The silhouettes on the booth drapery were in fact not just artistic interpretations of featureless Fisher Price people, but a mother breastfeeding. The baby feeding booth is located across from the John Deere seller and something called GutterProofing. A playland with little scudder high fencing extends out adjacent from the Mom’s Milk Shack. Instead of sand boxes there are aluminum tubs full of soil. I wonder how many dudes fake interest in kids’ dirt fueled boisterousness to try and nab a chance glimpse of flesh.
A Capitol Hill refugee stumbled onto the grounds shortly past midnight. She approached at a shuffle run, her backpack jingling and jangling. She said she loved carnivals. She wanted to know if she could hang. There was alcohol on her breath. I was very polite. She was very polite. Her partner waited off in the shadows. I neglected to keep an eye to her back when she shuffle ran away. Never know what was making all the jangly.
Either the kid working nights is cruel tired or bored and maybe all 3. Why else would you flash your light in on sleeping horses? Cupcake got startled and stood after the light passed over her. I didn’t say hey you made Cupcake stand. When I was 8, on a summer night, a neighbor boy tackled me and shone a flashlight in my face. His little sister and I had been bothering him. He was big as 3 of me. It seemed excessive. The kid hooked up with several former classmates last night. They swapped deep important 20 something bullshit while I made rounds. Sat on a lawn chair later the kid read some George Soros on into the dark morning. He faced the main entrance while he did it. Counts as work.
It takes at least 4 tickets to ride any of the carnival rides. Yet they sell the tickets individually. I know there are situations where you’d need the one ticket or two, but still my brain wants them to sell no less than 4 tickets at a time. This is the same kind of number relatedness that causes me dilemmas like why is it after I’ve subtracted from the bread package no less than 2 pieces of bread at a time, I end up with 1 piece, not 2, but 1. Are the bread distributors afraid that I’m never going to buy bread again so they arrange it that I have to have another loaf on hand to make a sandwich? You also have to be 49 inches tall to ride the Octopus and be advised that you might be dizzy come off the whirling cages of probable death and dismemberment.
A Capitol Hill refugee stumbled onto the grounds shortly past midnight. She approached at a shuffle run, her backpack jingling and jangling. She said she loved carnivals. She wanted to know if she could hang. There was alcohol on her breath. I was very polite. She was very polite. Her partner waited off in the shadows. I neglected to keep an eye to her back when she shuffle ran away. Never know what was making all the jangly.
Either the kid working nights is cruel tired or bored and maybe all 3. Why else would you flash your light in on sleeping horses? Cupcake got startled and stood after the light passed over her. I didn’t say hey you made Cupcake stand. When I was 8, on a summer night, a neighbor boy tackled me and shone a flashlight in my face. His little sister and I had been bothering him. He was big as 3 of me. It seemed excessive. The kid hooked up with several former classmates last night. They swapped deep important 20 something bullshit while I made rounds. Sat on a lawn chair later the kid read some George Soros on into the dark morning. He faced the main entrance while he did it. Counts as work.
It takes at least 4 tickets to ride any of the carnival rides. Yet they sell the tickets individually. I know there are situations where you’d need the one ticket or two, but still my brain wants them to sell no less than 4 tickets at a time. This is the same kind of number relatedness that causes me dilemmas like why is it after I’ve subtracted from the bread package no less than 2 pieces of bread at a time, I end up with 1 piece, not 2, but 1. Are the bread distributors afraid that I’m never going to buy bread again so they arrange it that I have to have another loaf on hand to make a sandwich? You also have to be 49 inches tall to ride the Octopus and be advised that you might be dizzy come off the whirling cages of probable death and dismemberment.