hear ye! hear ye! the renaissance fair doth sucketh!

in the interest of amassing as many ridiculous experiences whilst on this planet, i attended the maryland renaissance festival today. oh yes that's right, i'm talking THE renaissance festival: 25 dork-filled acres crawling with every goth, computer geek and dungeons and dragons turdball in a 100-mile radius all dressed in their fanciest tights and homemade corsets. fabulous. never seen more veiny cleavage and saggy white asses in my life. and everything ends in a superfluous "e". (faire, shoppe, fucke, shite...whatevere)

now what would possess one to take an entire sunday, drive nearly an hour out of town and pay the $14 entrance fee to a poorly disguised toursit trap?

morbid curiousity for one. haven't you ever wondered what Ed the IT guy does for fun on the weekends? or where Cynthia the disaffected tattooed whale of a women serving you your morning mochaccino feels her most sexy? you need look no further than your local renaissance festival, where every manner of misfit can cometh and make much merriment.


we're hotte! 

imagine a place where you could be your absolute self if your truest form is an awkward ducky with unforunate looks and a proclivity for speaking in "ye olde english." this is like their christmas! and i simply could not let one more year pass without exposing myself to the fasincating horror of this most screwy of subcultures. religious fanatics and cultists have nothing on these people. they are FOR REAL about this shit. take for example my attempt to utilize the "privies" (the oh so clever label for a semi-circle of porta-potties baking in the rural maryland sun). here's a typical exchange that you might hear between Me (i.e., any normal person just looking for a place to squeeze out ye olde bladder) and "Old Wench" (some old hag with wrinkly cleavage and bad teeth. see pic below)


dumb old wench 

me: excuse me, where're the restrooms around here?

old wench: why welcome, ye fair maiden! thou hast cometh to the right place to avail yourself of the foulest the bowel doth offereth.

me: you said what now?

old wench: amble, me lady, in such a direction as the sun doth shine to find yourself eshrined in the circle of privies that await your dainty practice.

me: ok so i'm talking about peepee here. what exactly are you trying to tell me?

old wench: oh! ye! doth! thouest! ye! (and on and on she goes like this until i spot a guy coming out from behind a makeshift wall yanking up his tights and figure that must be the spot.)

like i said, THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT KIDDING.

the interesting thing is that there were so many of "them" speaking their dork tongue and spinning their dork game and in some instances even finding dork love.
i guess it's kinda nice to know that there's a place (and a wench) for everyone out there. makes the world feel a little less cruel and gives this forlorn romantic a sliver of hope that maybe she too will someday find her knight (or in my case, more likely a jester).

but most important of all, i had an opportunity to achieve one of my lifelong dreams:
to walk around in public chomping on a giant turkey leg like a true royal.

THAT is what it all doth be about!


arrrr! deliciouseth!