2002-08-05 - 4:59 p.m.

We had fun, we really did, of a sort. But it was culture shock for me - it's a very rural area, and I don't know what I expected, but LAWD.

The boyfriend dragged me to some event or other featuring livestock racing, and we stood behind a raggedy group of little kids. Now, I'm all for letting your kids get dirty, and they were having a blast, but I turned to the boyfriend and told him that any chance he ever had of getting me to move up here eventually had just flown out the window. Skinny, pale, dirty kids, with green magic marker on their faces, screamed and yelled and clawed at each other. Spilled Kool Aid down the front of each others N@SC@R tee shirts. And their mother stood two feet away, dirty herself, chainsmoking Kools with her arm folded over her stomach, tuned far far out from the whole scene. Her daughter got into a fistfight with another little girl, and I do mean fistfight, no girly slapping going on, and she just ignored the whole thing.

There was some country music band playing, and we sat next to two women, who had between them 13 kids. They carried plastic trays piled high with hotdogs, and distributed them among the kids, then turned their full attention to the music, closing their eyes and singing and dancing in their chairs, while all those kids ate hotdogs off the dirt, put their fingers up each others noses, and kicked the people in front of them. Some of those folks treat their kids like they treat their dogs - feed 'em and wipe their nose, and you know, you're done. Scary.

There was so much food my head was spinning, including fried Ore0s, which are apparently cookies wrapped in dough and then deep-fried in fat. Please, tell me who eats this. I'm a big fan of the Ore0, don't get me wrong. But fried in a DOUGHTNUT? That's just not right.

So we ate like pigs, and played skeeball and listened to the music and saw a bunch of animals and got our feet dusty and dirty, and then we came home.

And I'll probably go again next year.

The apartment renting saga continues. My charming agent, who so far has not gotten off his fat sorry ass to show even ONE person that apartment, which he is contractually obligated to do. As you know, I choose not to fight that battle, and to just do it myself so it gets done. So I have two tenants, both qualified, and my asshole agent goes on vacation for two weeks, not bothering to tell me or the broker, and both people have been told that no one else can help them, they'll have to wait. You know that noone can wait two weeks for an apartment here, right? So on my way out of town for business I called his boss, and we figured it out and I called the potential renters and the broker and now it's out of my hands. God DAMN I can't wait for this to be over. And looks like it will be, shortly. If I ever talk trash about wanting to break my lease again, please cyber slap me to my senses.

And now I'm home from work, and off to talk the boyfriend into taking me out for sushi.

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