Chicken Fried

We're back from our annual trip to Schlitterbahn.

Sun up to sun down. When we go, we open and close the place, bitches. It shall never be said that the Mags household does not do their waterpark festivities hardcore.

I missed the Master Blaster this year - it being Father's Day, and all, I let him take the OG on it while I sat with the YG and the Noxious girl in the kiddie areas. I did get on some of the river chutes and on the more gentle slides that the YG is big enough for - good on her; she's feeling a lot more brave this year. (Next year, no holds barred. I'm tired of the kiddie areas; she's going on all the big stuff, whether she WANTS TO OR NOT. Because we're there to have FUN. GOT IT?)

A good time was had by all, but the OG and I - despite solid and repeated efforts to avoid it - are pretty significantly sunburned. And, it was most certainly not the best idea to go there - a park stretched over several city blocks - before me ankle was completely healed up. It's in a world of hurt of its own right now.

I shall limp, whimpering, off to bed, now.

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Oh, except I have to show you...um...something. It's from Bill S.



What do you think the beard guy's job is, besides provide the best dance moves ever? And, more to the point, who is the guy at 2:02?

I just don't know about this. I just. Don't. Know.