The State Fair

By Kimber: Reporting from the field since...yesterday.

Today my Grandpa Joe, Nana Barbara, and I went to the California state fair. We were fifteen minutes late, as I didn't sleep properly (thanks to Grandpa's ghost and Spartacus growling at it) and so slept in. This caused my Grandpa to insist that he drive, which caused me to become violently ill. It turned out that we were only fifteen minutes late, a mistake which my Grandpa was almost livid about, but forgave immediately once he realized that there were still parking spots left in the shade. This forgiveness didn't absolve my carsickness though, so I had to stick my head between my knees for a little while before we could go in.

The fair was nice, though the salespeople at the booths were more pushy than usual due to the recession (at least I assume it was due to the recession. It could just be that global assholism is on the rise). I didn't get anything, though I was tempted by the worm composting bins, and the attractive guy selling them. However, the attractive guy had terrible coffee breath, and the bins were ninety dollars, so it looks like I'll be dreaming of Clint Eastwood and mixing my own compost until something better comes along.

Today we found out that my cousin Joey just got a job in Stockton (he's been living with Rae Anne and her family in Sacramento), so he'll be coming to stay with my grandparents tonight, and Rae Anne and Takeo will be coming tomorrow. This meant that I had to keep Spartacus chained in the kitchen all afternoon. I sat with him the entire time, but he was still sulky and refused to eat his dinner. I was going to go on a sympathy hunger strike with him, until I realized that I had chocolate ice cream bon bons from Trader Joe's in the freezer, so I gave up. This ended up being a good thing, as once Spartacus saw I was eating, he decided to eat too. This decision might have been aided by the fact that I dropped some ice cream in his dish along with his dog food.

On a side note, my family members have been asking what I'm typing, and I made the mistake of telling them that it was a blog. They asked for the address, but I deflected their requests by telling them that it was immature and they wouldn't like it. The real reason I refused was because I couldn't remember how insulting or not the things I've written about them are. So, the poll question of the day (which I hope you'll answer in the comments section) is: How insulting would the members of my family find this blog to be?