Last weekend we took my cousins to Valleyfair (the local attempt at a Six Flags) and the Minnesota Zoo. Last weekend the heat index was eighty-bazillion degrees* and you needed gills to breathe. It was a whirlwind of teenage-girl-excitement, highlights listed here:
A pretty cute Brazilian boy asking me for the fifteen-year-old’s name saying “she’s beautiful” and following her (possibly stalking) through Valleyfair. Said boy was nineteen, and my cousin was ridiculously gorgeous in her inappropriately-tiny bikini. Sigh. I thanked the Gods yet again that I don’t have kids after worrying about whether she could fend off an attack herself for two hours. Yes, I may be paranoid.
Also, I burned my scalp, but my legs are still fishbelly white. So I’m itching my head like a madwoman but could blind anyone looking at me in a swimsuit. I apologize for the horrible grammar in the last sentence…I have no excuses.
We discovered a FABULOUS squid-eating-your-head hat at the gift shop, which has absolutely NOTHING to do with Valleyfair (particularly since Minnesota is pretty goddamn far from any ocean). I tweeted it to The Bloggess. Unfortunately I suck at twitter in general…I’m not even sure I did it right, to be honest. I’m sort of a perfect storm of technology fail.
We took the girls to have sushi and Japanese food at a local Teppenyaki place. The fifteen year old loved hers…the thirteen year old made an ishy-face to everything except the noodles and fried rice. Anyway, the check came and we didn’t have our usual argument over who had to pay (or, who had to sign the credit card slip, since it all comes from the same place): my husband took it. And did his math wrong. And gave the server a 32% tip. He felt too bad to tell the very excited waitress “no, I meant to give you less.” I knew none of this, so when waitress stopped me to say thank you and “you make me SO Happy” I was a little weirded out. Ah well, in the scheme of things we managed to accidentally make someone’s day, so that’s neat.
Thanks to my extra weight and my pasty-white Norwegian heritage, I spent the entire time on the Northern Trail at the MN Zoo with a tomato-red face and a dripping forehead. Who else can claim to have a dripping forehead? I looked like a heavy chef in one of the Food Network contest shows who drip sweat into their masterpieces and offer the dishes to the judges, only were I a judge I’d reject any sweat-laden dish on principle alone. Really people, you have to use different cutting boards for raw and cooked meat and you can’t wipe your fucking face so your forehead juice doesn’t get in the potatoes? It’s possible the tomato-redness was leftover scalpburn from Valleyfair.
Anyway, my husband thought I was about to have heatstroke (I felt FINE people, just a hot and squishy, but no signs of actual heat exhaustion) and bought me water by the camel pens. Even the damn camels looked at me all judgy from the middle of their pond, because the humid MN summer isn’t as comfy for them as desert heat so they were all lounging in the water. Mocking me. Bitches.
I told him the sweat was fat melting and let’s get going before he embarrasses me further, but damn if I didn’t catch him watching me until we got back into the AC. It’s not love, people..it’s his determination NOT to have to carry his wife back to the car. Also, I was fine. Sheesh.
Overheard by a woman at LEAST my age who should fucking know better (thanks you public education? I don’t know): “You mean Wolverines are real? I thought that was just the guy from Xmen!” I may have snickered too loud when she said “No really, I thought it was a fictional guy.” Luckily, I was still melting so probably looked way too slimy to bother fighting. I mean really, I could’ve slid out of anyone’s grip at that point. And sweated on them. Gross.
*maybe the temp was actually around 93 with a high humidity…you know what? It felt like eighty-bazillion, so I’m sticking with that. I’m not a scientist, after all.