All's fair at the fair

You know you’re getting country when you feel for the county fair the way you did for Christina Aguilera's "Back to Basics" concert: stoked to the bone. I feel especially country since I grew up in a county that was so uninterested in fairs that it no longer held one.

Truth is, I’ve attended fairs before. Big and small. If I had a slice of bread for every trip I'm made to the Iowa State Fair, its butter cow would no longer exist. You'd think my fair experiences once or twice a year would wean me from my fear of farm animals. But no.

Farm animals scare me. I don’t care what you say. They’re evil and they hate women with pretty shoes.

I know this because when I lived in Ireland, I visited my Irish roommate's dairy farm. There, some mama cow spotted me and gave me a look that said "Stay the eff of my milking parlour, ya heifer." That cow was a girl, but if I’m not mistaken, her head sprouted horns, just for me. You win! You win! I screamed, sprinting into a closet and NOT EVEN CARING about the manure on my dress flats. I cowered there until Samantha P. assured me the cow was preoccupied with hand cuffs suction cups on her nether regions.

Somehow, I survived. But the trauma of that day has never left me.

So while I anticipate the fair like a little kid counts down the days until Santa, me and the living exhibits aren't exactly Facebook friends.

I take that back. The plants are ok.

But I’m pretty sure the little 4-Hers showing horses, cattle and even rabbits are in more danger than if they hopped on the ferris wheel and didn’t wear a seat belt. I mean, WHERE ARE THEIR PARENTS??

So naturally, since I’d volunteered to cover the fair every day this week, I had to see the livestock. Every animal was caged, roped or bound in some manner, so I thought I’d survive.

I didn’t.

Can't you see how that chicken it trying to bite my head off? I’ve never heard of man-eating chickens, just man eating chickens, but I’m pretty sure this dude wanted pay back.

In fact, they all did. Every time I LOOKED at one of them, they’d bawk or bite or inflate their feathers. One was puffed so big it looked like a marshmallow in a microwave.

I was so disgruntled a ate a hot dog for dinner. That way I could get back at ALL the animals in the same meal.

Revenge (covered in mustard) is sweet.