2005-09-01 @ 11:47 p.m.
Iím fairly certain, youíll probably be wanting my autograph sometime in the next 3 minutes, as you read this entry, because, well, Iím kinda famous today. I had 30 seconds of my 15 minutes of fame. Iíve actually used up bits and pieces of my 15 minutes of fame already. Iíve been in movies. Iíve been on television. Iíve been interviewed and photographed by a major West Coast newspaper. Iíve been published well over 250 times. Iíve had artwork hung in a museum. Iíve met many famous people. But today.....well, donít be jealous now. I was....ok, I hope youíre sitting down...on the news with Wayne The Weatherman on Channel 3 News!!!! Yes! Its true! Its so cool to be me. Wayne the Weatherman on Channel 3 News! I bet youíre just kicking yourself, saying dammity damn damn, I wish, wish, wish it would have been me. But no, it was me. awittykitty, weather girl extraordinaire.
Ok, I wasnít quite a full fledge weather girl today. Because I actually didnít get to talk. I just stood behind Wayne the Weatherman on Channel 3 News! at the State Fair while he did the weather Live, looking all glamorous and stunning in my Calvin Klein sunglasses....you know, because it was SUNNY out. I guess I did help out in a way, you know, indicating that it was SUNNY because I was wearing SUNglasses. So Iím fairly certain a job offer may be coming my way shortly. Like if Doppler the Weather Cat gets a furball or something, maybe I can fill in. Whatís that? What do you mean, not all TV stations have a weather cat? No? Damn. Well, they should. Because ours does. And yes, I did call my mom on my cell phone and told her to watch for me, and yes, I was visible, so autographs will soon be available on E-Bay. Thank you, thank you.
The State Fair was its usual big, old, noisy, high caloric, chaotic self, full of people wearing shirts with flags. To me though, the Fair is mainly a huge restaurant with lots of rude people stepping on your feet. That place has so many eating places, but as I was walking down one of the many food courts, I really noticed something. Letís see if you notice it too? Sausage sandwiches, Hoffman hotdogs, sausage sandwiches, fried dough, fried dough, curly fries, sausage sandwiches, fried dough, fried dough, curly fries, deep fried twinkies, deep fried snickers bars, curly fries, sausage sandwiches, Hoffmanís hotdogs, fried dough.
Not exactly a great menu for someone with potential heart disease. I had a really hard time finding something I wanted or could eat. After much trudging through crowds, I finally found some Mexican food, and while that isnít exactly perfect, beans and chicken on a soft taco shell are probably alot better than deep fried twinkies or pizza fritte (ha, ha Meany). Thats not to say, I didnít partake in the bounty, better known as the Free ( or Nearly Free) Samples, like maple creme, maple cotton candy, apple cider, apple crunch cereal, butterscotch candy and the famous 25 cent cup of chocolate milk, which had a line wrapped around the building. Geeze, you would have thought they were giving away free prime rib, but no, it was merely a tiny 25 cent cup of chocolate milk. But wow! TWENTY FIVE CENTS!!! Thatís like $3.00 less than a gallon of gas these days....letís get some Betty!!
I always get hopelessly lost at the fair. I just keep walking in and out of the same buildings over and over. Like I think I saw the Stickley Room like 3 times. But I did try to head to two kinds of places...places with music and places with animals. We have like 100 acres of fair and they give the African American contingent like 200 feet of booths, but I ended up walking around there for about an hour. There was this one tent which had a bunch of men banging on drums and I so wanted to sit down and do percussion with them. And they were inviting people to do so. But I hung back. I felt stupid. Like a dumb white girl who would screw up the music by being a musical retard. I donít have any rhythm when I dance, but I think I do have some when it comes to percussion. And they looked like they were having such a blast. We have an African drumming class that meets under our art class at the community center every so often and they really raise the roof downstairs.
So I watched them for quite a while and then they had this nearby booth where you could stick your hand in paint (sounds good already) and make a hand print on some kind of community hanging. Well, naturally I had to announce to the woman tending the booth, all self importantly, that I was an artist, so ahem, yes, I would like to do this, and it will probably be stunning and MOMA will probably be calling and wanting to hang it in their next exhibition of really cool art by people whose names end in ďyĒ. She just sort of nodded her head like, ummm, ok. Just donít hurt yourself, lady.
I did spend about 20 minutes dipping my hand in green paint, making the print, and then drawing a bold yellow sun print in the middle which radiated out. I also made dots along what would be the finger joints with yellow and then at the end I dabbed bright pink slashes along the edges. It turned out really nice, fortunately. I didnít want her to think I was just pretending to be an artist.
Again I just sort of meandered. I saw a bird show with this guy who had all these rescued birds, like falcons and owls and ravens and even an American Eagle and he did all this corny schtick about birds, and made jokes about Alfred Hitchcock and Tippie Hedren and how birds, like owls have such big eyeballs, that thereís not much room left for a brain. Hey, kinda like Carol Channing. Anyways, I was standing right next to this hawk which was strapped to this perch, but he was really giving me the evil eye and arching his neck like he thought I had mice in my purse or something. It was making me a little nervous.
I then went over to the farm animal section, because all the noise and crowds and namely kids who were starting to get on my last nerve.
Note to kids: Hey kids, despite what you think, you are not the only person at the fair. There are many others walking around too. Can you please look where you are going. Can you also not break away from your parents in a major temper tantrum and step on olí wittyís foot? Because, you know what? It kinda hurts. You stomping on my old, elderly foot with your cute little $80 sneakers and then making me listen to you screaming so loud that people in Canada could hear you. Itís just not cool. And you might also learn how to say either, ďExcuse meĒ or ďIím sorryĒ and this goes for your parent too. Of the 4 kids who plowed into me today, only one parent apologized. Is it really that hard? I mean they all really plowed into me full force. I got stepped on. I nearly had my purse knocked out of my hands. I got head butted in my stomach....all by kids who were between 5 and 8. WTF? Store low on ritalin? Accidents happen, but an ďIím sorryĒ is priceless. Ya got it?
Anyways, I just know that its a good thing there were a lot of people around, otherwise, I probably would have stolen about 300 bunnies today. Damn them. They were so freakiní cute. I only had a bunny once as a kid, very briefly and her name was Cleopatra. But my Dad sprayed our yard for bugs and she died from the chemicals, when he forgot to bring her in. These bunnies though, were of every conceivable shape, size and demeanor. Some rested demurely, while others hopped wildly in circles (they were probably bipolar, Iím guessing). Donít tell Guardcat, but I totally fell in love with this white English Angora rabbit. It was huge and their fur looked like cotton candy and their eyes were pink, but there was something kind of wanky about them. They were all white and pink and fluffy, yet as I was staring into the eyes of this one bunny, there was like this momentary flash of Keith Richards in its eyes, like Rock On, Mate. Who knows? Maybe I was just stoned on the 25 cent chocolate milk.
I then headed over to the Bovine Building, needing only to follow the smell of cow poop. Thankfully, it wasnít real hot today, so at least the stench wasnít accompanied by cow sweat or 4H cow assistant sweat. Off to the side were about 7-8 seats and there was a big screen TV which immediately seemed out of place in a big cow barn, but it was playing a 17 minute video of a cow giving birth.
And can I just say it right out. I could have soooooo directed that video better. I mean all they did was point the camera at the cow baby hole. Occasionally theyíd move the video camera slightly to the right or left or zoom out, but like yawn. I could have so totally filmed it avante garde. Like an extreme close up of the cowís eyes and then cut to a man hole cover and then a long shot of a barn, and then rapid shots of an Amish guy running through the field with a pail of water, and then a guy catching a subway and then Billie Holliday singing ďTaintí Nobodyís Business if I doĒ and then zoom into her mouth singing and then zoom out from the cowís mouth mooing. And then maybe have some Anya music for the cow contraction scenes. Or maybe Pink. Or maybe Sting. I canít really decide. And then suddenly and inexplicably we see things from the camera POV inside the cow and see Chita Rivera dressed as a country vet, although sheís wearing rhinestones and false eyelashes and I think Paris Hilton is playing her nubile assistant and there might be a slight lesbian vibe and the barn is done in Art deco. No wait, I think maybe Tom Cruise is the country vet and heís dressed in rhinestones and false eyelashes and Katie Holmes is standing behind him dressed like Nicole Kidman or Raymond Burr with a stockwhip and chandelier earrings and maybe there's some gay dancing farmers. No wait....wait....waittttttt....
I think NOW you can see, why wittykitty is NEVER.....EVER hired for cow birthing videos.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty