Hippies need haircuts
So this weekend, Anne finally dragged me out to the Renaissance Festival.
Now I know what you're thinking: Hey Jamie, isn't the Renaissance Festival for old toothless lesbians, carnival-school dropouts, and English majors? Aren't there dirty people there with mullets and Nascar hats? Don't you have anything better to do? Have you ever eaten horse meat?
Surprisingly enough, the answer to some of those questions is... Yes!
Well, I went in expecting to witness the full-on mullet-fest that was the Deleware State Fair, but when we got there I discovered that by assuming that, I was severely mistaken! Instead of the oceans of mullets I was expecting, my eyes, nose, and sense of decency were repeatedly assaulted by dirty, smelly, and probably child-molesting men with pony tails! I counted and counted, and by the end of the night, I had accumulated over 58... I will repeat for you: fifty-eight freakin dirty pony tails!! I almost puked up my $4.50 beef fajita wrap right there. If not for the excessive food price-gouging that was going on there, my projectile re-lunch would have been splattered across the sweaty backs of every pony tail-wearing freak within a 2-mile radius. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the vomit I would taste that day! Oh no...
There were mountains of ugly fat chicks there, all with big, square boobs hanging out of their 3-sizes-too-tight-for-their-walrus-like-body dresses, all dancing around like drunken Irishmen in black lipstick and gorilla costumes, jiggling their excessive body mass this way and that, looking very much like that fat black guy from that cartoon about those kids who hung out in the junkyard. What was his name again?
Oh yeah, Della Reese. =D
Hey hey hey!
Haha... remember that part in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life when that big, fat guy is in the fancy restaurant eating his ass off, and then he gets sick and starts puking in that bucket and puking on the waiters, and puking on the other customers, and he pukes EVERYWHERE!
Hahaha... He was wearing a tuxedo... In a fancy restaurant.
Oh yeah, the festival.
As we were leaving, we decided to get in on a little jousting action. I was so excited about this! After years of watching movies about jousting, dreaming about jousting, and playing Joust, I was finally going to see the real think LIVE and IN PERSON! Needless to say, I was disappointed.
Now I'm not one to complain, but I was under the assumption that jousting involved trying to knock the other person off their horse with a pole. Preferably shattering his spinal column. Am I right to assume this?
Yes.
These "knights" (Think fat, old guys with erectile dysfunction) were riding around on horses, trying to look all cool, reflecting sunlight, eating fried chicken, and waving at the cheering audience, while I stood there imagining how awesome this bloody fight to the death was going to be. It was starting to get semi-interesting, but before long, it was time for the inevitable spine-smashing. The two bearded fatasses finally stopped putting their tampons in and picked up these flimsy wooden poles. To call them flimsy would be a gross understatement. They looked like they were assembled out of Popsicle sticks and paste by three retarded kindergartners and Brendon Fraser. Finally, the knights got ready and charged at each other! My eyes got huge and I just stared straight ahead. They got closer, closer, and then... CRACK!
The sticks broke.
BROKE! I couldn't believe it! I thought they were supposed to be made out of the bones of the knight's enemies! Or at least metal. Then, as if only to shatter my dreams even further, they grabbed new poles, and ran at each other again. Surprisingly enough, they didn't learn from their mistake, because the poles broke, and the men kept riding as if nothing had happened at all! I gasped as everything I thought I knew about jousting fell apart. Then, to add insult to injury, they repeated this embarrassment again at least 27 times. I was so frustrated. Next time I go, I expect real jousting. Maybe even ON MOTORCYCLES!!!1 It better be on motorcycles. They owe me.
Bastards.
Well, all in all, the weekend was awesome. I really had a great time at the festival, and it turned out to be 5 times more fun than I expected. Maybe I'll do it again next year. I don't even know anymore. Maybe I'll see you there! And I'll buy you a chicken sandwich.
But probably not.
Now I know what you're thinking: Hey Jamie, isn't the Renaissance Festival for old toothless lesbians, carnival-school dropouts, and English majors? Aren't there dirty people there with mullets and Nascar hats? Don't you have anything better to do? Have you ever eaten horse meat?
Surprisingly enough, the answer to some of those questions is... Yes!
Well, I went in expecting to witness the full-on mullet-fest that was the Deleware State Fair, but when we got there I discovered that by assuming that, I was severely mistaken! Instead of the oceans of mullets I was expecting, my eyes, nose, and sense of decency were repeatedly assaulted by dirty, smelly, and probably child-molesting men with pony tails! I counted and counted, and by the end of the night, I had accumulated over 58... I will repeat for you: fifty-eight freakin dirty pony tails!! I almost puked up my $4.50 beef fajita wrap right there. If not for the excessive food price-gouging that was going on there, my projectile re-lunch would have been splattered across the sweaty backs of every pony tail-wearing freak within a 2-mile radius. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the vomit I would taste that day! Oh no...
There were mountains of ugly fat chicks there, all with big, square boobs hanging out of their 3-sizes-too-tight-for-their-walrus-like-body dresses, all dancing around like drunken Irishmen in black lipstick and gorilla costumes, jiggling their excessive body mass this way and that, looking very much like that fat black guy from that cartoon about those kids who hung out in the junkyard. What was his name again?
Oh yeah, Della Reese. =D
Hey hey hey!
Haha... remember that part in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life when that big, fat guy is in the fancy restaurant eating his ass off, and then he gets sick and starts puking in that bucket and puking on the waiters, and puking on the other customers, and he pukes EVERYWHERE!
Hahaha... He was wearing a tuxedo... In a fancy restaurant.
Oh yeah, the festival.
As we were leaving, we decided to get in on a little jousting action. I was so excited about this! After years of watching movies about jousting, dreaming about jousting, and playing Joust, I was finally going to see the real think LIVE and IN PERSON! Needless to say, I was disappointed.
Now I'm not one to complain, but I was under the assumption that jousting involved trying to knock the other person off their horse with a pole. Preferably shattering his spinal column. Am I right to assume this?
Yes.
These "knights" (Think fat, old guys with erectile dysfunction) were riding around on horses, trying to look all cool, reflecting sunlight, eating fried chicken, and waving at the cheering audience, while I stood there imagining how awesome this bloody fight to the death was going to be. It was starting to get semi-interesting, but before long, it was time for the inevitable spine-smashing. The two bearded fatasses finally stopped putting their tampons in and picked up these flimsy wooden poles. To call them flimsy would be a gross understatement. They looked like they were assembled out of Popsicle sticks and paste by three retarded kindergartners and Brendon Fraser. Finally, the knights got ready and charged at each other! My eyes got huge and I just stared straight ahead. They got closer, closer, and then... CRACK!
The sticks broke.
BROKE! I couldn't believe it! I thought they were supposed to be made out of the bones of the knight's enemies! Or at least metal. Then, as if only to shatter my dreams even further, they grabbed new poles, and ran at each other again. Surprisingly enough, they didn't learn from their mistake, because the poles broke, and the men kept riding as if nothing had happened at all! I gasped as everything I thought I knew about jousting fell apart. Then, to add insult to injury, they repeated this embarrassment again at least 27 times. I was so frustrated. Next time I go, I expect real jousting. Maybe even ON MOTORCYCLES!!!1 It better be on motorcycles. They owe me.
Bastards.
Well, all in all, the weekend was awesome. I really had a great time at the festival, and it turned out to be 5 times more fun than I expected. Maybe I'll do it again next year. I don't even know anymore. Maybe I'll see you there! And I'll buy you a chicken sandwich.
But probably not.