Saturday,
October 6, 2001

What do they put in corn dogs? Crack?

That's actually a paraphrase of Nancy's view on fat-free refried beans, but it works just as well here, too.

In other words, yeah, I went to the State Fair today. Which was really idiotic, considering that the Cotton Bowl (which is on the fairgrounds) was hosting the big UT v. Oklahoma game, and the parking lots were even more packed with Sooners and Longhorns having tailgate parties and goodnaturedly heckling each other.

Hey, whatever. I'm from Chicago -- if they're not playing U of I, I don't care.

But the fair itself was actually a lot of fun. Once I managed to find a parking space in Ulan Bator, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that they were running a shuttle service to the Pan Am Gate, so I didn't have to hike a mile and a half from my car to the fairgrounds proper (always nice). Got inside, wandered past the livestock display, watching the Kasbah horse show for a bit, then headed over to the Creative Arts display.

Oh. Oh, MY. Quilts for days, AND all kinds of other things including hobbies, strangely enough -- at least two women won blue ribbons for their Wedgwood collections. Ha -- I laugh at their miniature vases, for I have taupe, primrose and teal pieces, as well as a pill jar from the century before last. Three guesses who'll be entering the State Fair CA competition next year, folks.

So after I managed to drag myself away from the wondrousness that is fabric arts, I thought it was time to give in, go buy some coupons and try one of those damned corn (sorry -- CORNY) dogs. Well, you would have assumed they were giving away an SUV with each corn dog, to judge from the depth and density of the lines around the corn dog booth. I finally managed to get to the front of the line, handed the harrassed concession worker my ten tickets, and got a corn dog and bottled water in return. After a brief stop at the condiments table for a splash of mustard, I bit into the corn dog.

I must admit, it wasn't nearly as disgusting as I thought it was going to be. I still didn't see the raptures Bill was going into about them, but it was a nice snack, and I washed it down with the bottled water before wandering off to get in line for the Texas Star.

And then, the true horror hit me. As I commented to a local friend in an email:

While I was at the State Fair I had a corn dog, mainly because one of the guys from the party had been raving on and on about them, thought, "Hmm, not nearly as disgusting as I thought it would be, but not fabulous," walked away, and realized fifteen minutes later THAT I WAS LOOKING FOR THE CORN DOG STANDS like a junkie looking for his next hit of smack.

Jesus. Do they have a methadone equivalent for these things?

His reply was not reassuring:

Corn Dogs are the most addictive substance sold over the counter at State Fairs and Six Flags all over this great State. Clearly you haven't been conditioned to eat "just one" and will therefore have to undergo the unpleasent treatment to overcome this addiction ... it's a lot like rabies shots. You have to eat cold Vienna Sausages for two whole days, and then eschew fried food for another week. Only then can you be cured ... unless you put mustard on the corn dog, in which case, well I'm sorry to say, SCIENCE has NO CURE.

Think about it ... nitrate stick, fried. Genius, sheer genius. Kind of like the "killer joke" of food-on-a-stick.

I admitted that I had indeed doused my corn dog in mustard, which apparently sealed my fate. I am now a Corn Dog Addict, and there is no 12-Step program.

Damn you, Bill Ledbetter!

And on the "Awwwwww" front --

I got some email from my friend Anna, at whose wedding I officiated, and she sent me news about her baby Trystan. Trystan had been born with a congenital heart defect, so it had been touch and go for the first few weeks until they were able to get him into surgery and replumb his heart.

But he's perfectly healthy now -- they just had a naming ceremony for him under the tree where we held the wedding, and he was wrapped in the quilt I made for him during the ceremony.

And of course, for your delectation, here's a picture of Trystan. If young Trys had turned out to be a girl, he would have been named Madeline Melanie (or Mad Mel for short). As it is, I'm glad he turned out just the way he did. What an utter cutie.