It's All Fun And Games Until Somebody Gets A Chicken In The Face

*cough cough

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a little hoarse today from all the screaming I did AT MEDIEVAL TIMES LAST NIGHT, BEEYATCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
You guys.

Despite having been to practically every state in this country, an ice hotel, the Amazon Rainforest, and a number of European countries, I can say with all confidence that Medieval Times is the coolest place you will ever go in your life ever. Ever. Eh-Verrrrrr.

Am I corny? Perhaps.
But I see nothing corny about watching knights fight to the death while eating half a chicken with your bare hands and drinking beer from giant mugs.
And I see nothing corny about being able to call the knights pussies and giving them the finger while doing so, because you're at Medieval Times, son, and that kind of shit was ALLOWED back in the day.

To be sure, it was a faux-stone-ensconced orgasm of all things medieval. There were swords (that could be purchased for the low, low price of $24.99). There were princess hats (that could be purchased for the low, low price of $19.99). There were dragons (of the stuffed animal variety, to be purchased for the low, low price of $29.99). There was alcohol (prices depending on whether you wanted MEAD or a strawberry daiquiri with a little umbrella in it).

And that was BEFORE you headed into the theatre.

And the show? Speck-fucking-tacular.
There are 6 knights who compete, and you're supposed to cheer for the knight assigned to your section.
We were in the yellow-and-red secion.
They gave us a free yellow-and-red crown when we entered.
Our knight was the yellow-and-red knight.

And I've said it before and I'll say it again, give me a free hat and point me in the direction of the team I'm supposed to be cheering for, and I will scream until my lungs give out.

It was kind of like the World Cup Semi-Finals we went to over the summer.
Did I follow soccer?
No.
But you can be sure that I practically got into fisticuffs with the nearby Panamanians because they were talking smack about Team USA.

Oh.
I cheered.
I screamed.
I gave the finger and at one point, I somehow managed to break a nail.
(and yes I was drunk, but not on alcohol. I was drunk on POWER. And chicken.)

And I may or may not have uttered the following phrases to the Green Knight, who was set up from the beginning (via darkened lighting, green smoke, and ominous music) to be my mortal enemy:

"I'm going to throw my CHICKEN in your FACE"
"I'm will find you in the parking lot and shove that sword straight up your ass"
"Your mother was a wench and your father liked to service goats"
"BLOOD. I want BLOOD!!"
...etc

(Man, I hate the Green Knight)

So I guess you could say that Medieval Times did not bring out my most redeeming qualities, but it was my BIRTHDAY goddammit, and if I can't demand somebody's head on a platter on my birthday, then when can I?

You see my point...

And oh my god, you guys.
The horses....
They had Andalusians performing airs above ground, and riders performing dressage movements that I could only dream of. The knights' horses (quarterhorses and arabians, from what it looked like) were highly trained, and the Master of Ceremonies rode a Fresian that was 100% drool-worthy.

So between the bloodsport and the horses, one can only imagine the frenzy that I worked myself into.

At some point I was so overstimulated, Brian had to practically sit on me to control me.

And THAT, my friends, is what a good birthday is all about:
Combining all the things I love under one roof, and then letting me eat with my hands.

To Brian, I want to give a huge THANK YOU for making this birthday one of the best I have ever had, despite our significantly limited budget.

It may not have been dogsledding, but I'll be damned if I didn't still manage to pee myself a little bit out of excitement.