January 19, 2006

OLD DIRTY TURTLE

I went to the out-of-doors show, saw that old dirty turtle. Not the oldest living turtle of freshwater, just regular old turtle old. 156 is old for a touring turtle. Next to the jerkystand.
Much greatness at the show. Sparkle boats, 26,000$ + up. Pop up trailers, an affordable 20 large. New mobile homes with home threatres, those sleek RVs with expanding sides and screen doors, $169,999 with $20,000 off, say the pamphlet. I went into one, a mini one, and a man was inside with a Miller in a foam coozy, and he was watching Jeopardy on the TV. Instinctively, I answered; "Pervez Musharraf"--I was correct. I thought at first the man was the sales man but in hindsight, I think he was just hanging out in there. I told him "hey thanks" for letting me look at the mobile home with the smoked glass shower and the etched stars and stripes mirrors, but he just blinked back.
I got some pamphlets on camping in the Black Hills of the Dakotas (tied with Cuba on me and my dads next family vacation spot) and I got a free salad from a man who was doing a demonstration. He said into his headset mic that he was just about to start a demonstration on how he made it, with his cooking machine or chopping chopper or deer meat dicer or whatever, but you know, I already know how to make a salad, so I did not feel the need to stick around. We debated whether to get the $18 t-shirt at the Native American sweatshirts and dream catchers booth, that had four native american men with rifles or muscats in their hands that said HOMELAND SECURITY fighting terrorism since 1492. SNAP. Also viewed with excitement: bunkbeds made from logs, and german shorthair pointer pups and a BUILD YR OWN log-casa.
Oh, what a dream: I want all three, together. Logs n' dogs is my future steez.

I thought, maybe, given how funny me and my date looked in comparison to the rest of the bait-browsing folks hanging loose at the show, that burly dudes might crumple up "Manitoba's Walleye Vacations" pamphlets and throw them at us and yell "FAGZ! FAGZ!" but mostly, they just eyed us. Whatever, man, I may dress like Ms. Cowgirl Hoochie 88 but I have known how to drive a boat since I was 4 and I have also eaten jerky a few times before.

I also saw the second biggest dead bear ever made dead in Wiconsin. It was 10 feet tall in stuffed repose. Who shoots bears? I imagined that you would practically have to shoot the bear with a cannon or a machine gun to kill it. You would have to really shoot it throughly. I cannot concieve of how that desire matriculates in one, to kill a bear, to kill it and take it's skin off it and take a picture of your dumb mustachioed ass-face posing next to a staked up skin the size of a small truck, so that you can hang it in a den or an office, with a gold plate saying EIGHTH BIGGEST BEAR EVER SHOT IN WISCONSIN. The man at the dead bear zone was on his cell phone, so, I could not find out why one shoots a bear.

Posted by Jessica at January 19, 2006 07:27 PM | TrackBack