When Extreme Midget Wrestling shows up near you, I’m sorry, but you just drop everything, change your plans, miss your parents’ anniversary dinner, and give away your tickets to whatever is on the stage at Houston Grand Opera so you can go. How many times in your life are you presented with the exciting opportunity to be ringside for midgets in masks wrestling each other? From personal experience, I’m going to say maybe one, if you’re lucky, and that really may be plenty.
Before anyone gets frosty about the word “midgets,” just don’t. There’s enough hate in the world right now, and I am not going to add to it with this. I’m going strictly off their publicity: Extreme Midget Wrestling. It did not say Extreme Little People Wrestling or Extreme Person of Short Stature Wrestling. Or I would have used that. So just stop before you start.
Recently, I’m pleased to say, I was able to cross this off my bucket list without actually knowing that it was ever on my bucket list. In a poorly air conditioned space in a mostly empty mall in Texas City, I stood in line with one of my best buds hoping and praying that we could still get a standing room only ticket for the event for $25. If there were concerns about the stability of my mental state for jumping on this crazy idea, then paying $25 for it pretty much clears up those doubts.
I’m not even going into what they were charging for beer. Trust me, though, beer is pretty much a requirement with midget wrestling. You could almost get by without actually having the midgets or the wrestling, but if you don’t have the beer, you’ll lose 98% of the audience for an event like this.
So it had what one would expect from Extreme Midget Wrestling. Midgets launching off the ropes to land on other midgets on the mat. Midgets smacking each other in the face with trash can lids and yellow “Caution: Wet Floor” signs that I think they found at the mall. There were midgets in tights and capes and one wore a chicken mask thing. The midget referee would count the “knock-out” to about two before there was a miraculous recovery and Cinderella victory.
Those who went ahead to the opera (and in some families, those who opted for their parent’s anniversary dinner) probably had the exact same experience without the beer.
We’ve become the society of “Anything Goes.” There’s almost nothing too weird. Nevertheless, I think a body should still set a few boundaries and rules to live by. Otherwise, there will be no limit to how low you’ll stoop. How long before you’re wearing socks with your flip flops, sporting a man bun or disappointing your dog. Believe me, there’s nothing worse in the world than disappointing your dog. Decide now where you break the deal.
For me, I’ve decided that to live my life in an authentic state, I will never drive a station wagon with fake wood paneling. I don’t care if they’re now classics and cool again. I will forever associate them with Wonder Bread and chicken ala king out of a can and get a stomach ache. In that same category, I will never drive a minivan. No offense to those adorable moms with adorable children doing adorable things who drive around in their adorable minivans, but I’d rather chew glass. If I’m getting out of a van, I’m either being taken to lock up or dropped off at the airport park and ride.
I’ve also made the conscious choice to never wear sequins before dark. Outside the potential hazard of unplanned blinding sparkle, there’s just no reason for it. I understand it doesn’t get dark until after 9pm in the summer, but too bad. Stay home or pick out something else. It’s probably too hot to wear sequins in the summer anyway. Glitter is just tiny sequins, so tack on glitter under this heading.
Now this is just me – I can’t decide what’s right for you – but I’m never going to pierce my nostril. That just seems like an idea that’s one flu season away from disaster. Even cows don’t seem to like that big ring in their noses, so I’m going to side with them and give a decisive and permanent no to nose rings in any form. For that matter, I won’t be mangling my tongue, eyebrow, cheek, or any place else that I’d be embarrassed to tell an EMT about.
Of course, we’re all about Constitutional rights. And by all means, you have the right to do whatever cockamamie thing you want. That includes wearing sequin socks with flip flops when driving your minivan at noon. But trust me, your dog will be very disappointed.
I’m a firm believer that everyone should travel. You learn a lot about other places and people, and then you really appreciate what you’ve got when you get back home. Go ahead and hop in the car for a road trip past the state line (which, if you live in Texas, will take you a couple of days to reach – yeehaw Texas)! Personally, I just spent a bit of time outside of this great State and was amazed at how odd some of our nearby neighbors can be. Let’s take a look at Colorado, for example.
First of all, Open Carry has a completely different meaning there. In Texas, we’re all packing. But we’re packing a weapon that, until recently, was concealed and now is proudly slung on the hip John Wayne style. In Colorado, they’re packing spray. Bear spray. Because in Colorado, you’re going to get eaten by bears not gators and probably trampled by moose instead of bulls. And just so you know, bear spray is not applied the same way that mosquito spray is. To a bear, covering yourself in a fine film of bear spray is not unlike putting butter on popcorn. In the same way you’re not going to spritz each little individual skeeter that threatens to drain a pint. Things there are just a bit weird.
Did I say weird? Let’s just huddle up and sing a round of “Kumbayah” while we talk about some of the local folks. These are people that have graduated with honors from the Willie Nelson Master Gardener Program. It seems every corner is crowded with a liquor store, snack shop, and a dispensary. A dispensary is where you can go for your “organic healing” and to meet with your “alternative medical practitioner.” All of which is very likely driving business to the liquor store and the snack shop, if I have to guess.
Like wow man, that is totally so cosmic and psychedelic fur shur, but, well, not for me. I think I’ll stick with my Cigna-approved providers, skip the energy healing, pass a drug test with flying colors and just head on back home to Texas where taking a trip means you’re heading to Austin for the weekend. Dorothy had it right when she told the Wizard of Oz that “there’s no place like home.” Texas may not be heaven, but it’s got Whataburger and, for me, that’s close enough for now.