It's been awhile but I can explain. My Hank Williams "concert" is now over a week ago. Another of Marvelle and Dean Bumble's efforts to humiliate me over a silly disagreement which you will only understand by going back over a year of these posts. Let's just say they will NOT break me.
As instructed I arrived at the concert in my most dapper yet conservative tweeds. Needless to say I was over dressed. The general wear of those attending was jeans and checked shirt with sleeves sissored off. Quite fetching. Just kidding because all the males there, at least those over 25, were sporting large guts. I think they must be using implants. Some enterprising plastic surgeon slides some enormous saline or silicon breasts in the stomach. And the jeans are made to button or fasten just under the gut. Something like a gut bra. Lots of cowboy hats and boots. There was a pervasive odor of bacon. It was thick like the smoke in a European bar. My clothes, even my hair, were of no use to me unless I too wanted to smell like bacon. And it was not just ordinary bacon. I am pretty confident it was breaded and deep fried bacon. Had to be! My tardiness in getting back to you is a result of undergoing a medical procedure to degrease by hair and skin.
Hair -- you do not want to know. How can there be enough bad hair stylists to account for so many bad hair styles. Mixed with the bacon was the smell of hair spray. I am talking fat hair too.
I retched within 15 minutes but it was fine because all of the bathroom stalls were occupied by fellow retchers. Their retching choice was beer. I was dizzy from the bacon/hair spray cocktail.
Butts. Did I mention the butts. I think it must be an attractive feature to Hank's fans because very clearly when someone was possessed of a large butt, the goal was to display it in the tightest possible jeans. I am talking about the women here. The men tended to not to have butts at all. In fact, I suspect there was a great deal of butt implants in the building.
Fights. Lots of fights.
And right in the middle of it-- Dean Bumble and Mrs. Dean Bumble suitably attired for the evening and squealing along with every song.
