Before the move out here, me and Uncle Sam flirted for a while. While I negotiated terms with work, we played footsy under the table. And then the deal was done – I upped and moved. We’ve been heavy petting ever since.
To mark our first Cali-versary, and our infatuation with the land of the free, we decided to spend the day binging on as much America as we could.
So we started the day at a drive-through cash machine.
Together with the Sinclair C5 and the chocolate teapot, you can file this invention under the “What the fucking fuck?” category. You’ve either got to drive close enough to scratch the shit out of your wing mirror, or you need go-go-gadget arms to actually reach the damn machine. So if you’re a car-conscious, short arse like me, you find yourself contorting out of the driver’s window Dukes of Hazard-style to punch in your details.
This time I avoided a hernia; next time I may not be so lucky.
Then we hit up the Alameda County Fair. Seriously, that place was American a.f. When I bit into my hot dog I actually heard it yee-hah.
Check out the photos below (click the first image twice to see the gallery page and comments).
Unfortunately, we missed the eating contest (the eagerly anticipated pickle round), and we left too early to catch the motorcross and demolition derby. Which probably means that we also missed out on a bunch of pissed-up macho American men starting fights with their own shadow. I’m sure the girls will see plenty of that at college.
We’ve pledged to celebrate each year with an all-American adventure, so send through any ideas you have.
In the meantime the kids continue to do their best to piss off our neighbours, so maybe next year we’ll just mark the two-year milestone by taking the defendant stand on Judge Judy.