maybe i'll also talk about date rape and the missed connection

-Amber, pondering the contents of her next blog entry. Stay tuned.

Pretty much every person who has killed a dragon, in addition to going straight to hell, knows that you have to go for the soft part of the belly with your rapier or cleaver. What some people do not know is that dragons also have sensitive tummys ON THE INSIDE. Example: Beerfest.

This dragon made her way through the stupidity of the disconnected Ann Morrison parking lot, with the Bud Light semi truck, akin to the North Star, beckoning in the distance as her guide. While I was dubious about Bud Light being included amongst the alleged 110 microbrews, I did think maybe this meant that there would be PBR (every drag's fav beer) and perhaps new kinds of PBR, like PBR lighter and PHMR (Pabst Honorable Mention Ribbon! Imagine the bedazzled cans!). Upon completing the pilgrimage, I discovered that I was wrong about the PBR, but my mass of wooden tokens and plastic beer mug soon distracted me. We headed to the beer tent, which was past the notorious "Nancy's Cookies," past the age discriminatory bouncy houses, past the taco cart (that was also at soul food...ponder). So we drank some beer. But then what? The only thing to do seemed to be to drink more beer, or go to listen to the easy listening plaid-clad people singing about Ireland. So we drank more beer, in spite of our stomachs' feeling like we had just accidentally ate awkwardly shaped plundered dragon jewels, and still: so many tokens left.

And then, something silver caught our eye! Was it a superhero? The Silver Fox? A space ship? A silver snuggie? Even better: it was a Freaking Sweet Curly Fry Saw! a deceptively academic looking man punctured each Idaho Russet with his sweet saw (dirty!), leading to magic hordes of curly potato which are then stuck in a vat of oil. Delicious. Of course, these did nothing to offset the pain in our dragon tummies. And yet, there is only so long one can listen to easy listening before feeling like one is at the dentist, so we were faced with the epic task of drinking more beer. The well meaning beer pourers were supposed to pour to a certain line, but they more often than not would fill past the line, and the beer above the line was just another cross to bear. But then we were distracted from our task. Because. of. MURDER:

The ground was kind of muddy, because you know, Boise--land of the drags--is a rainforest and not a desert. As a result, a sad yet alive earthworm had surfaced amongst the slop--in the middle of one of the beer tents, right in a heavily trafficked area. I thought about intervening, but then I thought about Whale Wars and nature taking its course. Also my hands were full. At first the earthworm seemed to be coated with a magic force field--people were hitting everywhere but worm, as we, five feet away and helpless, yelled "Go Under Ground." And then a birkenstock delivered a crushing blow. The worm--cut in half. But wait: half of it was still alive, though separated from its body. We turned away in horror, but then turned back. We had come this far. We had to see how it all played out. Alas, the worm was eventually squished as some dbag STOPPED while stepping on the remaining alive portion. While tragic, this gave us drive to polish off all of our tokens and to complete our quest.

Take away moral: do not go to Beer Fest if you usually drink PBR.

Other advice: Do not get hit by lighting.
Do not go running when it's hailing even if you think it's funny.
Do not try to utilize a converter box, fail, and then realize you also don't remember how to set up your Dvd player/Xbox, rendering you, essentially, Amish.

Dragon Goodbye!