Currently, I don’t work during the summers. Therefore, I am always looking for ways to
keep myself and my children engaged. In
general, these are appropriate and child-friendly activities. This summer, I have taken my children to
amusement parks, lakes, library sing-alongs, and zoos. One other activity that one generally can’t
pass up during the summer is the county fair – all those tempting deep-fried
foods, rides, entertainment, animals, vendors, and more. However, I had a slightly different reason
for desiring fair attendance this year.
Recently, my husband and I were traveling together in the car
when I suggested, “We should go to the Wisconsin Valley Fair this week.”
“Well,” he said, not even feigning enthusiasm for my
suggestion, “You can take the kids during the week while I’m at work if you
really want to. You know, I don’t think
they should even go because it’s so busy and they are too little for most of
the rides.”
“No,” I replied, “Not with the kids. You and I should go because Bret Michaels is
performing this week.”
“What?” he now asked, with evident aversion and perplexity. “You
want to see Bret Michaels? Why?”
Bret Michaels -- Hilarious and Really Gross Lay |
“I want to fuck him after his set,” I answered, with a very
serious and determined tone, “I think that would be hilarious.”
“What is wrong with you?” my husband asked. I believe this question was rhetorical
because everyone knows there is not enough time in the world for me to
accurately respond.
“C’mon,” I tried to impassion my husband to my proposal, “it
would be funny. I would come home with
some really great stories.”
This conversation continued, with my husband offering several reasons not to fuck Bret Michaels, both of us
carrying on as though this would be an easily actualized goal for me. I should note that I’m an overweight thirty-something who buys her apparel from Coldwater
Creek, as opposed to the women who typically accompany Bret -- anorexic, alcoholic twenty-two year olds who shop at Hot Topic.
At any rate, after announcing that fucking Bret Michaels
would be worth it just for the great tales I would come home with, my husband
crushed my splendid plan by stating, “Some strange story wouldn’t be the only
thing you would come with, Angela. You
better expect to come home with VD if you plan on sleeping with that dude. I’m not interested in a wife with VD.”
I then spoke in Bret’s defense, “There’s a remote possibility
he’s clean, you know.”
“Oh, c’mon!” my husband chuckled, “Have you seen the
menagerie of whores he fucked on Rock of
Love? You gotta get a grip, Angela.”
I got a grip, and we didn’t go the fair. I didn’t ride the tilt-a-whirl or enjoy a
monkey tail or elephant ear, and, most importantly, I never attempted to seduce
Bret Michaels that week. One can only
imagine the magnificent anecdotes I would have had to share here if I had,
right? Why doesn’t my husband support my brilliant ideas? Damn him; I could be
a more accomplished and celebrated writer today if only he had let me fuck Bret
Michaels. How else is a woman to keep
herself occupied during the summer?
You need help.
ReplyDeleteHelp talking your husband into that fantastic idea!
YES!!!
DeleteThanks for the laughter! My cheeks still hurt
ReplyDeleteYou would get VD touching his cowboy hat.
ReplyDeleteHow the mighty have fallen! I too live in Wisconsin, and it depresses me to no end seeing has-beens performing at the various county fairs. We saw Herman's Hermits at the state fair last year, and security almost made Peter Noone pay to get in as a regular fair attendee because he wasn't recognizable as a famous rock legend. So sad.
ReplyDelete