Pirate Whore Monsterknockers

We are officially in that time of year that most people would call either fall or autumn.  I can certainly use those terms, but right this instance, I'm sweating my balls off, so it's hard to think of it as non-summer.

Note:  I do not really have balls.

Anyway, so here are a few of the things that happen all upinhyah around this time of the year.  There is a sir-cuss, at my work, and it's, you know, whatever.  Fun-ish.  Whatever.

Then there is the Fair, which is not like a county fair or state fair or world's fair or the like, it's a fair put on by our large local Catholic School.  Which I fucking ADORE because, a) it is more or less in my neighborhood, which is to say, walking distance, and, b) they sell beer, on the cheap.  

What's really funner than walking a half mile, drinking beer while your kid rides on rides and you laugh at humanity?

Nothing, that's what. 

So that's what we did on Saturday.  Beanie came home for the weekend, too, which made it all that much more awesome.

The baby is on the ferris wheel.  You can just barely make out his tiny little head in this picture.  His friend Mafun, whom the rest of us would call "Nathan" rode with him.  God bless that kid- they probably wouldn't have let me take my beer on the ride.

This is the baby at the end of the "Giant Slide," which is to say, a tall bumpy piece of tin on which he slid on a piece of burlap, because, you know, 1896 is a wonderful year.

On Saturday, my little band played at a festival in Olde Towne (and I shit you not, we are SUPPOSED to spell it like that, which means I live in Ye Olde Douchy Selfe-Importante Towne), and we were encouraged to wear costumes.  So I made Beanie wear this hat and pretend to be Gilligan.

"I've never even seen that movie," he said.  No matter, he looks like Gilligan without even trying.

The festival went well, we played a LOT and it was fun and we were tired by the time it was over, which is how it is supposed to be.  We went home and crashed, just chilled out and hung out watching movies about WW II.  The Bean is the master of all knowledge of the Pacific Theater, right down to the battle names.  I am not, but I still find it all fascinating.  This was a Ken Burns documentary, so believe me, after only 2 hours, I am well aware that I have an additional eight or ten hours of WWII footage to enjoy.

On Sunday, I took him back to college.  The baby was beat down tired and fell asleep in the car, but then he woke up when we were almost home, and I go, "hey, you want to go and get you a Halloween costume?"

He thought perhaps he would be Mario, but I talked him out of it.  I keep calling him the Dread Pirate Monkeynuts, or Monkeybutt, when he protests, but anyway, he says no fucking way.  He likes "Pirate Goldenrod Blackeye."  Hmph.

 At any rate, the DPM is adorable:

I would give the little crew-socked pirate some candy, you bet your ass I would.

I'm getting a costume too.  I ordered this one.  Fuckit.  I'll be a slut pirate whore if I goddamn want to.  I bought boots, too.  FUCKIT.

I forgot to mention that, on Thursday, the baby had a "carnival" at HIS school, which was code for, "bring your kid to the school, we will make him participate in math 'games,' and we will give him pizza, and if you are REALLY lucky, we will paint a yellow, orange, and white penis on his cheek.  Only we will tell him it is candy corn."

You thought I made that last part up, didn't you?  Well YOU WERE WRONG.

Happy pre-Halloween, everybody, from Pirate Whore Monsterknockers and the Dread Pirate Monkeynuts.