I'm crawling all over the carnival

Eschewed Perry Farrell & Co. for cheaper thrills with the Queen of the Bondo and Rocker Librarian, and thus we drove to the fairgrounds and people-watched the streams of humanity, cheered at the crunched metal of the demo derby qualifiers, alternately admired and were weirded out by garden produce, poultry that for some reason raised hell when I walked in despite my lack of consuming their meats, sundry cakes and wines, and collections of strange things.

I was expecting the compilations of Star Wars and WWII memorabilia, and theorized that beer steins will be the next trendy thing for the rust belt hipsters,  but not the ensemble of shrunken heads, "fairy gardens" or the coffee mugs painted with wizards or the quilt that looked morbid with its red roses and skulls and on further inspection was revealed to be a tribute to the Grateful Dead. Sadly, photos of such things did not turn out,. I'm also kind of freaked out by being up close to farm animals, being a lifelong city kid. Good times all around though, and I'm glad I live in a town where I can see Shakespeare one night and more proletarian pursuits the next.