Sunday, August 24, 2008

The King and Queen of England visit an undisclosed town in North Alabama

Well, had a new experience last night. Went to undisclosed town in North Alabama, nice little town. It wasn't the town so much as the reason we made the 2 hour trek there. J's little brother, he aint so little, was to fight in his first MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) Cage Fight. Yes I said cage fight, as in a cage, literally in a cage. He's been training for over a year, and he did great, won his First fight. The guy whos ass he kicked, was a local guy by the name of Harley Moon, really, that was his name. Mr. Moon was the winner of his weight class in July, he's a local hero, blah blah blah. Anyway, he has a loss to mark on his card. The fight, although interesting and bloody, isn't the purpose of this blog. Although I am very proud of the brother in law and so very happy for him! My purpose here tonight is to rant, laugh, tease, make fun of (pick a word) of the people I saw last night!

OMG, these people were, well, interesting. To begin with, my brother and I stood out like, well like... the king and queen of England - at a tractor pull. Nothing against tractor pulls or royalty. We werent dressed fancy or anything, just clean, ironed, certain body parts completely covered, hair combed and fixed, well, in a 'normal' manor.

Here, I feel, I must explain and describe some of the spectators. When we first arrived at the smallest City Civic Center I have ever seen (My brother reminded me we were in said undisclosed town in north Alabama), we had to wait outside to get tickets to find J's brother and wife and get everything settled. I was watching people, like I always do, but boy what a show I got! The first guy I see is obviously one of the fighters, he is shorter than me, stocky, obviously works out, a lot, fake tan, nice hair, cute, and cocky. Right away I've decided I want him to get creamed, which he does. Next is a barage of bad hair, a Mohawk, hair peeking from under a greasy cap that hasn't been washed in 2 or 3 weeks (the hair, not the cap), a couple of mullets, lots of crew cuts and bald guys. The women weren't much better, lots of annoyed hair here. Either stick straight, fried and pink, yes pink, or teased and poofed like it was 1982.

Now I am no fashion queen, by no means should I ever tell anyone what not to wear, but people please. I think everyone, even the fashion challenged guys, know you should not wear an ill fitting purple bra under a white t-shirt you borrowed from your child. Right? or am I wrong here? And what about muffin tops? I am not talking about cute t shirts with Strawberry Shortcake and her friend blueberry muffin. I am talking about the FAT that hangs out OVER the tops of jeans, resembling a muffin. Not all girls do this, some can carry off the low rise tight jeans, I am not one of these. I know this and do not try it because I like to keep all extras well hidden, however, not everyone seems to own a full length mirror and tries to make this work.

I also don't get the strappy shirt thing. One young woman last night had on 3 or 4 strappy shirts. I counted 3 or 4 different color straps on her well tattooed shoulder. I also don't believe one of them was a bra strap because the, shall we say, jiggling was a little excessive at times. She kinda looked like she was smuggling those long floaty tube things, wrapped around her body in 3 different levels. Not to mention the lovely low jeans, muffin top and 'tramp stamp' tattoo showing that lead to her ass crack, which was also showing. Nice huh!

J says this blog is harsh and I am being mean. I'm not purposelessly being mean, just describing what I saw, in great detail. And as the Queen I believe I owe you the best description I can, even if its of rednecks, tattoos and Mohawks. I now know, the next time I attend one of these events, and I'm sure brother in law will fight again, it will not matter how I am dressed. Do you think its too much for the King and Queen to show up in daisy dukes and tank tops??


Bo said...

Yeah, sorry about that. I'll do a little better concealing my muffin tops and tramp stamp next time.

(Two hours north from your house? You had to be in my neighborhood.)

martinstone said...


Bo said...

Yeah, 'bout what I figured. 40 miles or so from the crib. :-)