♪ >> EVERY YEAR THERE'S A LIST IN THE NEWSPAPER WITH ALL THE NEW OODS AT THE STATE FAIR, INCLUDING A BUNCH OF STUFF I CAN'T EVEN PRONOUNCE.

THEY ALWAYS HAVE WEIRD NAMES LIKE UNCRUSTED BURGER OR SMASHADILLA, BUT USUALLY THEY'RE A COMBINATION OF TWO OR THREE THINGS THAT DON'T REALLY GO TOGETHER ANYWAY, LIKE DECORATION DEEP-FRIED SWEET CORN SNOW CONES, LIKE TAKING THREE DIFFERENT FOODS AND STICKING THEM TOGETHER SO YOU'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FIGURE OUT WHICH THING MADE YOU SICK.

I'M SURE SOME PEOPLE GET EXCITED ABOUT THIS LIST, CLIPPING IT, GETTING IT LAMINATED IN CASE THEY SPILL SYRUP OR HOT SAUCE ON IT OR BOTH.

BUT NO ONE COULD POSSIBLY EAT EVERYTHING ON THIS LIST.

THEY ENDED UP TAKING THE SKY RIDE TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM WHERE THEY WOULDN'T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY LEFT FOR THE CO-PAY.

FOR ME, I DON'T MUCH CARE ABOUT ANY NEW FOODS.

I GO FOR THE OLD STUFF.

THE GREATEST HITS, THE TRADITIONAL AYS TO STUFF YOURSELF SILLY AT THE FAIR.

I WANT THE CLASSICS.

THE YOT ROCK OF FAIR FOODS.

I HAVE IT ALL PLANNED OUT.

ONCE INSIDE, I GRAB A SNOW CONE, THEN STOP FOR FRENCH FRIES BEFORE MAKING MY WAY TO THE DAIRY BUILDING FOR A SHAKE, THEN I HAVE WHATEVER CHOCOLATE-DIPPED THING IS CLOSEST, BEST OF ALL, HEAD TO THE MINI DONUT BOOTH.

SMALLER THAN REGULAR DONUTS, WHICH IS GOOD, EXCEPT THEY COME IN A BAG WITH 11 OF THEIR FRIENDS.

DIPPED IN SUGAR, SO YOU CAN HANG ON TO THEM IN A CROWD, THEY ARE LIKE HEAVEN WITH A HOLE IN THE MIDDLE.

SADLY, THEY CAN ALSO BE A QUICK TICKET TO A CORNEA ANGIOPLASTY, SO I MAKE SURE TO SHARE WITH SOMEONE ELSE.

IT'S A CRUEL WORLD.

EVENTUALLY I'M FULL, AND I WADDLE BACK TO THE BUS WITH VISIONS OF FAT AND SUGAR DANCIN' IN MY HEAD.

ON MY FACE AND OFTEN ON MY SHIRT.

REMEMBER, I TELL MYSELF ON THE WAY HOME, IT'S ONLY ONCE A YEAR.

THANK GOODNESS!

I MIGHT BE THE