Vacation Conversations That Probably Shouldn’t Be Repeated

I took an extra day off this weekend to be all social-like and prove I’m not a zombie hermit. My most excellent family member (who hates being called an aunt because we’re more like sisters, and so I’m accommodating her whining request by calling her “family member”) came down to drink and be stupid go to the MN Horse Expo yesterday.

FYI, I can’t look at the expo link without seeing “hor-seex-po” (obviously there’s a Latin-based language’s accent attached – feel free to take your pick there), which is really indicative of my own mental failings and should probably be ignored.

Anyway, Thursday night presented Animal Planet on TV and smartasses on the couch. And thus, the following.

  • What the FUCK is with man-buns anyway? WHY? For the record, I completely agree. 
    • Later compared ManBuns to EntitledYogaHipsterMomBuns (those would be the Teletubby-esque top-of-the-head “messy” buns) sported expertly by a woman at the expo, who daintily pushed her fashionable stroller through a pile of horseshit while wearing a VERY disconcerted look. 
  • SHITSTICKS! poop-on-a-stick, twatwaffle, and various versions of “whoore” also made appearances over the weekend.
  • That’s not a River Monster. That’s a teeny crocodile, you puss. As it turns out, she’s not a fan of Jeremy Wade or River Monsters. 
  • OMG that guy just finger-fucked a crocodile! And thus Jeremy Wade’s humiliation is complete. 
  • When Chewy humps the air he’s getting more than I do I really see no need to reveal which of us made that comment. 
  • If only for a pair of scissors with really long…scissorparts. For the manbuns, of course. After a couple of Guinnei (I still maintain that should be the plural of Guinness), the individual parts of scissors escaped us both. 

And then, there was Pat Benatar and Neil Giraldo. I LOVE her, and I am not sorry. Pat Benatar was the go-to lip-sync game when I was a kid: my babysitting aunts and I used to sing along with a tape deck and an upright vacuum (because who needs a karaoke machine when you have a vacuum handle?).

And Pat Benatar didn’t know she was still in Minnesota…I’m certain she thought they’d crossed the border into Canada. Close enough, really.

I have no smartass commentary about Pat, except I was really amused at how pissed off the sour old woman next to me really was (NOT any aunt or sister at the concert with me. I should go on record saying that…I was on the end and had the stranger danger). I’m not sure I can really blame her: the drunk jackass in front of her was one of six people who stood the entire concert…directly in front of us. And I’m 90% sure he kept farting in her general direction.

Pat and Neil did a bit of When Doves Cry to honor Prince. And all my favorites. My ears are still ringing with the pure awesome.

And there were many idiots with Teletubby topknots in the crowd.

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