Sunday, May 31, 2009

My deep south death continues

After visiting the Japanese Gardens, we headed over to check out the Fort Worth Water Gardens.



It was pretty and stuff, but I'm sorry, this place kinda scared the fucking shit out of me. A bunch of people have involuntarily died there!



Mr. FGD traveled down to the depths of the water, but I cowered up at the top looking at the plaques made in honor of the people who fell in and were swept to their death.



Uh, yeah. Real uplifting place. Freaking Texas.

Anyway, my father in law tried to entertain me while his son merrily climbed all the slippery stairs.



Can you see Mr. FGD in the background? If he slipped to his death, I was going to be really pissed that he had my red camera bag with him.



My mother in law and I snarkily talked trash on the high schoolers who had come by to take photos before some sort of formal dance that night. (Cork bottom platforms with a short, cheap looking cocktail dress? Think again, my white trashy Ft. Worthian.)

And then, before I could get bored and crabby, we made our way out.



Next, and last on our agenda before dinner, we headed to the Fort Worth Stockyards. Silly me, when people said stockyards I thought we were going to see some cute moo cows. Maybe some goats. A petting zoo, no?

No.

Definitely not.

Somehow, while side-stepping piles of horse shit on my entry into hell, I managed to snap a few shots.





Those were the normal ones. But then the journey into some sort of wild wild west rodeo hell began.









Don't be mistaken, my fellow Californians. That's not rodeo as in Rodeo Drive. Nope.

This was all cowboy, all the time.











We headed into some sort of cowboy store, where there was no shortage of cowboy boots, in any size.



My English mother in law fit right in.



This is my I'm freaked out, get me out of this place smile:



Alas, we came across a slightly normal looking bar. I jumped on the opportunity to escape the wild west for a moment.





I really wanted some of these, but we were going for a fancy schmancy dinner in less than an hour, and I wasn't really with the stuff your face with greasy food before a nice dinner type of crowd.



We grabbed a table at the outdoor bar and all had a beer. I continued to sweat outrageously and tried to occupy myself with something other than thoughts of sweet, beloved, air conditioning.





Everyone else, dry as dirt, of course.







Not fucking fair!



Damn outdoor bars.



Are those steel beams supposed to cool me off?



We finished our beers and it was time for a little more walking around before heading to dinner. I'll just let these pictures freakishly speak for themselves.











COWBOY Hall of Fame? Who knew.







The next time I think my office is ghetto...



Pretty ponies...





Random buildings..





Does that sign say COWTOWN?



Holy hell.


Pretty babies,



rockin' the Texas bling.



There's the guy and his cow again. Just another day on main street, I guess.



Sarah Palin shops here:



And as we walked further away from the aromas of cow and horse poop, I found some cool old buildings that looked straight out of a western.









And while I was oh so tempted to break the bank in this store, I somehow managed to walk by without entering.



Finally, onto the safety of an upscale restaurant.





With god-forsaken air conditioning.

After dinner, we headed back to the safety of the upper end Dallas suburbs, and I rarely left my perch by the pool for the next few days, with the exception of a few shopping trips, and to refill my cocktail order.

I had a little friend...



who also seemed to enjoy herself...



and didn't think for a second that Texas was anything short of fabulous.



I can't lie, I was, for the most part, surrounded in restful luxury by loved ones who cooked for me and poured me endless drinks, took me shopping, let me sleep-in, and let me flap around in the pool for hours.

It was a good trip (to republican hell), and I don't think any of us wanted to leave.







 
Blog Design by Delicious Design Studio