When History Repeats Itself

When I was 14 years old (and my hair looked like this) I visited a county fair with my friend. Her father was a farmer and he had legitimate reasons for attending, like buying livestock. My friend and I only came along for the fried dough, entertainment and boy watching. After checking out the rides we decided against them. We were already smart enough to know better, so we decided to spend our money playing games. Because it was the summer before my freshman year of high school, I was pretty much 100% more awesome than anyone. In addition to being straight up awesome, though, I wanted to be bad ass. Never mind the face that I was a straight-A student who attended church every weekend (as a reader, even) and had never even broken a curfew. I wanted to be bad ass. And how was I to achieve bad ass status?

I needed a knife.

Yes, a knife. The only reason I decided on a knife, as opposed to a gun or some liquor, was because at the county fair there was a ring toss game where you could win a knife. The game consisted of several rotating tables with knives stabbed into them. If you tossed a ring around a knife, you won it! It looked kinda exactly like this:

After throwing several dollars in rings into the air, I finally landed one! My bad assery was about begin. But first I had to find my friend's parents because you had to be 18 to collect your prize.

I carried that knife around in my purse for about six months because I was terrified that if I put it in my room somewhere my mom would find it and ground me. Despite being a total bad ass, I was still afraid of losing my TV privileges. Then in the spring it was time for our annual visit to my grandparents in Florida, and I realized that I couldn't take my knife on the plane with me, so I sold it to a boy in my french class for $5. BAD ASS!

What does this have to do with anything?

Well, we visited the county fair on Saturday afternoon.

The knife ring toss game is wildly popular, so it's positioned right near the entrance. SOB, who is very familiar with my bad ass story, immediately decided that I would be playing until I won. Pregnant, with a baby in a stroller and two preschoolers in tow. I was reluctant, to say the least, but SOB put the money down on the table and the carnie put the rings down before me. I decided to be a sport, and also to let the kids in on the action.

Sam tossed the first ring. And guess where it landed?

My four year old landed the ring squarely on a fucking knife!

We laughed so hard the carnie thought we were weird.

And so, I think we can now safely say that we're fitting in just fine here in West Virginia.