Last night my boyfriend came in from out-of-town. Yes, I’m in a long-distance relationship. You probably didn’t know that, Reader, as I’m a Lady of Mystery*.
Unfortunately, my long-distance boyfriend probably doesn’t know we’re in a relationship, either. But here he was, back in town to see me, only I had to spend $LOT.$$ to go see him, wherein he also entertained an entire huge crowd of people, which was frankly a little rude since I’ve waited so long for us to be together again.
Regardless, I was happy to see him again. Because see below.
Before my friendie and I went to meet up with him, we did a little tailgating.
Because we know how to party like rockstars.
But our tailgating went a little something like this:
J: “Oh, look, there’s that farmer’s market that I’ve heard sells really good sweet corn!! Do you mind if we stop?”
TBB: “Hellz no I don’t mind stopping, I want to get some fruit!”
So yeah. We tailgated at the Farmer’s Market, where I put a bounty of goods in to my basket, including fresh green beans, pickling cucumbers & spices, the best cherries I’ve had in my mouth all year, local-grown black seedless grapes and rhubarb because it inspired me to make a strawberry-rhubarb pie this weekend. Which I haven’t made yet, but the weekend isn’t over so don’t give up on me yet, Reader. Or I won’t invite you over for pie.
I also snapped up some crazy-big onion called a “Cream Onion” or something like that, and there was this recipe posted above them, which intrigued me:
For $1.29, it would have been pure foolishness not to try it, although I’m not a huge fan of the possibility of that much onion flavor. But I’ll try it and give it a go in my mouth later this week. I’ll keep you posted on the results, Reader, so don’t fret. I’m here for you. Never forget that. Unless I’m with my out-of-town boyfriend. Or doing something else.
Anyway. After ten bags of produce between us, we were back on the road towards our VIP seats, because did I mention that when we party, we do it like Rock Starz? Well, we do.
Because I’m sort of old. And refuse to sit on a lawn for a concert ever again in my life. I want close parking and a cushy seat. I blame the arthritis in my feets, Reader, because then it’s a MEDICAL condition and now you are an asshole if you judge me and my fancy ways.
For being VIPs, we had decent seats, but not right next to my boyfriend, as we should have had with the kinda buck we spent on those tickets and fancy cloth wrist bands. But since we weren’t in the front row, I had the foresight to bring mah driving glasses with me, which adds just a tich more clarity to distance things.
I needed to see my boyfriend with as much glistening clarity as possible, so I four-eyes-ed it up.
One other thing we learned, VIP doesn’t come with air conditioning, because it’s still outdoors.
Heat hates me.
I was a sweaty**, matted-down-banged mess before the first opening act was finished.
Yes, even my friend was laughing uproariously at my rock-star look. Go ahead, Reader. You can laugh too. #ididntwakeuplikethisitsthefuckingheat.
After looking at this picture, I’m thinking my right eye looks droopy, so I went back and looked at some others, and yep, it looks droopy in those, too. Do you think I had a stroke in my eye?? WEB MD, you will be Googled right after we are done here.
And oh, yeah, two guys peed right by the picnic table where we were sharing a sandwich and drinking beers. At that time we didn’t know our VIP status came with a free taco bar in our special fancy cordoned off area. So we had an extra special “viPee***” event instead.
And that, Readers, is how you party like Rock Starz when your out-of-town boyfriend, who doesn’t even know he’s your boyfriend so he didn’t get you front row seats, comes to town.
*which part of that made you scoff louder, Reader? The “lady” part (get it, “lady part!”) or the “mystery” part?? Yeah, me too.
**the exact opposite of “sweaty goodness”
***I stole that viPee line from Loria, because it was clever and really made me LOL, and so by crediting her here it’s not really stealing at all, and she’s now famous. Sort of. But not really at all.