to blog business.
Maybe I've done all sorts of awesome in the last couple months but was too lazy, er, busy to blog about it. Maybe I'll attempt now.
Here's a photo peek at Carnie Gras 2008
Last weekend is what my parents' hometown of Preston, Idaho looks forward to all year. It's the small town country western version of Summer in Ibiza or whatever crowded raucous comparison you can imagine. Rodeo weekend and all the accompanying festivities. We get to see all sorts of wackadoodle, like these clowns somersaulting over bulls and kicking at their horns with their sneakers.
And then there was this rockin cowboy.
It kinda makes me want to try bull riding. Why are there no girl bull riders anyway? How come they only let them do barrel racing? That's wack.
I have been bugged by several to blog this, so here it is. Probably to my mother's embarrassment. But do you know what this means? We've got no secrets now. You, readers, and I, have forged a bond of trust that can only be broken by you.
A few weeks ago, on Easter, I was arrested. Cuffed and everything and taken to the sheriff's office. It was late at night and I was leaving Preston for home in SLC, and after I got gas I was pulled over for not stopping completely as I left the gas station. Whatever. Was that because I bought gas on a Sunday? But then the cop came back and tells me I have a suspended license. I was probably so surprised that he thought I was faking. He didn't know anything about why, but said he'd have to arrest me. He brought me in front of his car to get on with protocol. However, they did not search me for weapons, and did not Mirandize me. I had started to cry earlier, but by the time he was struggling with the cuffs, I was trying really hard not to laugh. I couldn't even feel embarassed. I, geeky Mormon girl who's never even had a drop of alcohol or tried a cigarette, was getting put in cuffs. And seriously, it took him a really long time to get those cuffs on. As he did he said, "I know you're a good person, we're not going to treat you like a criminal." Oh, you mean like by putting me in handcuffs? Once at the sheriff's, the other cop, Mustache, took my mug shot. I asked for a copy, which I let him think was for a scrapbook. Probably only half the population of Preston has the internet, let alone knows what a blog is.
Jealous? Lucky for me, my dad came and bailed me out and paid such a ridiculous amount, you'd think the charge was burglary. It really was a miracle that my mom had a big stash of cash at home. The cop got a little saucy with my dad when he found out we were paying cash and didn't want to call a bail bondsman.
So as it turns out, the whole thing was big confusion between my insurance company, the driver's license division, the postal service, and me. I was able to immediately get my license reinstated. I went to court on Friday and pled not guilty, and soon I will meet with the city prosecutor and get it all taken care of. I sat in front a judge who last year had been charged with assault and battery for slapping a crying teenager in his chambers. When he was explaining to me that the mandatory minimum sentence for driving without privileges is 2 nights in jail, I wanted to ask if I could trade that for a good hand across the face. There has been a lot of corruption in that small town. Police chiefs, mayors, and teachers steal, cheat, molest, and get away with it because of what my dad calls the "good old boys' club." I can say these things because good old boys don't read blogs. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of great people and things in Preston too. Like my aunt Stacie. And the grocery store. For a two stop light town, it has an incredible selection. Oh's cereal and Metromint water and everything.
So there you have it. Did I leave anything out of that story?
Today's round of Sad or Sadcore is brought to you by the local businesses of middle America and their reckless cleverness. Here we see some intentionally misspelled business signs. Maybe these choices are just good business sense, weird spelling draws attention and therefore more patronage, right?
Happy Black Friday. While everyone was out at real stores, we visited Kings, seen here, and the D.I. in Preston. Other adventures were had, but must be saved for telling another day.
Maybe it's just nostalgia for the events we experienced as kids when visiting from California. Grandma and Grandpa's house, the house my family currently lives in, is right on the parade route: heaven for collecting parade candy. Or maybe it's the novelty of rural cowboy life that was as far away as possible from how we grew up. The people-watching is a nonstop treat, from squeamishing at the dirties to trying to guess the locals from the visitors. But relatives and old friends are sure to stop by just in time for parade, and we're always sad when the weekend's over and Preston's next big thing is a 362 days way.
Here's an example of one of Preston's quirks. In the local video store, you must seek out your selection according to the actors it stars rather than the genre. Makes for weird browsing, and no forgetting the name of that one guy.
This year we tried something a bit different. The parade entrants seemed to be a bit lacking the first two nights, so with two hours until the last parade of the weekend, my brother, sister, and I created this giant cotton candy out of our mom's 4-wheeler, which two of my little cousins rode on to toss candy to the crowd. It's not precisely what I envisioned, but considering we didn't even leave Preston for supplies, I was pretty happy with it.
Until next year, carnies.
mp3: The Kills - Rodeo Town
mp3: The Cardigans - Carnival
mp3: The Brunettes - Cotton Candy
