Barnum and Bailey, the Weirdest Show on Earth

Ohhhh, I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I can barely contain myself! This is what I said on the way to the circus. Then we got there, and I have just three words for you. WHAT-THE-FUCK? Damn it, I said I wasn’t going to cuss as much in this blog but here I go already. Fine, I’ll put a bar of Dial soap in my mouth while I type this. Blaghsb ablaf balshgh. Shit, now you can’t understand a word I’m saying.

Between the tickets, the babysitter for my youngest, the cotton candy, the light up wand, the snow cone, the soda, and the popcorn, we basically cashed in our 401K to go. I shit you not. Cotton candy cost $12 there. $12!!! The saleslady was like, but you get this fabulous novelty ringmaster hat with it. Oh, wait, so you mean I get to take home this highly flammable shitty hat that’s just going to be one more piece of crap lying in the middle of the floor for me to trip on? Yay. Looking back I think it’s F’ing hysterical that I was all stoked when we didn’t have to pay for parking.

But I digress. I’m very good at digressing. It’s like the only thing I’m good at.

Anyways, I’ll admit that I had fun that day. Because there is nothing more fun than watching your kid’s eyeballs fall out of their sockets because they’re so wide with excitement, especially when you’ve sacrificed your retirement to be there. But the circus was not exactly what I remembered it to be. The following is my stream of consciousness as I watched the show unfold before my eyes.

Hey, look at that. The first black ringmaster. Cool. And that guy dancing next to him is soooo funny. Wait, would I think he was funny if he weren’t a little person? No, no I wouldn’t. Awww, fuck, now I feel like an asshole. I mean, they clearly know that people are entertained because he’s a little person and that is just wrong for so many reasons.

Ooooh look, here come the elephants! They’re so amazing. I hope that I can go to Africa one day to see them for real. Where they roam free. And don’t wear stupid sparkly hats. And don’t sit on stools that are like 1/90th the size of their ass. Like me when I have to go to parent-teacher conferences and sit on one of those kiddie chairs. Awww, fuck, now I feel like shit again. 1. About my big ass. And 2. For these poor elephants.

That’s okay, there’s nothing like a little Cirque du Soleil act to cheer me up. But wait, we’re not at Cirque. We’re at Barnum. And from the looks of it, these are all the people who didn’t get into Cirque du Soleil. Holy crap, are those ladies spinning 40 feet in the air by their ponytails? Three things come to mind and none of them are good.

  1. Ouch
  2. I lose like 9,000 hairs a day in the bathroom (seriously, I have like a hair bathmat) so if I tried that my hair would just all fall out
  3. I wonder if their ponytails are so tight they look Asian

Is that third one racist? I hope not. I have nothing against Asians. In fact, I love Asians! I have lots of Asian friends. I even dated an Asian guy once. And I didn’t even break up with him. He broke up with me. See, I’m not racist.

Thank God we’re onto the next act. Clowns. Noooo, go back, go back to those hair-spinning ladies! Clowns scare the crap out of me. Ever since that god-damned Poltergeist movie.

And then a clown ate me. The end.

Nahhhh, just kidding. But I’m lazy. And I’ve got to skedaddle (when the hell did I turn into a 50-year-old with high-waisted shorts?) because Parenthood is about to begin. And just in case you’re wondering why the F I didn’t just DVR it, I did. But I’m about to push play so it’s about to begin. So let’s just pretend like the clown ate me, capiche?

CatRingmaster

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