Beer, cigarettes, my kids and demolition derbies.

So there I was. Sunday night. Sitting there staring at Elmo's World with my two kids.

For some reason, my mind reverted back to grade school. It was summer or, to be even more descriptive, possibly Indian Summer. Late September. Early October.

Almost every year in my early childhood, my mom and dad would toss us into the car and drive out to St. Clairsville, Ohio, for the Belmont Country Fair where we would stuff our faces on elephant ears, funnel cakes, corn dogs and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Then, we would go see other fantastic attractions like crappy birdhouses at the 4-H tent, bulls eating hay at the farm tent and older kids busting balloons with darts for Van Halen mirrors on the midway.

On this particular day, however, we didn't come for the funnel cakes or the cows eating hay.

We came for the mother-fuckin' demolition derby!!!!

Now, I'm not sure of the chemical make-up of boys. Or why my brother and I enjoyed destruction as much as we did (or do). But, when we found out we were going to see the demolition derby the night before, we couldn't sleep. It was like Christmas in late August. To top it off, the fact that both our birthdays were in July, we had three Christmases (Christmasi?) every year.

And yes, the demolition derby was awesome. If you're a guy, you totally understand why. There's just something about 20 cars crunching, banging and slamming together that gets a guy really excited. It feels like you're in a fistfight against 50-some guys in a scunched up hallway.

And let's not even talk about the busted windows and exploding radiators.

It's almost as exciting as seeing a lady naked. Butt nekkid.

I said almost.

So there I was watching Elmo's World, staring at my son and daughter running around, doing a jig to the Elmo's World theme song and, in general, just having a good ol' time with life.

Then, for a couple minutes, I found an evil Grinch smile form across my face.

I have a son, and perhaps a daughter, who will wholeheartedly go see a demolition derby with me. And by wholeheartedly, I mean without question. And by without question, I mean forced.

Because, you see, my wife might not be interested in seeing a demolition derby, but goddamn it if my kid's aren't going to go with me.

We'll see. I just may get my youth back yet.

Who doesn't love carnivals?

So I was talking to my dad the other day and, for some strange reason, the subject of carnivals came up.

Actually, I do know the reason.

He had to take my niece to a local county fair to see a country music singer in the Ohio Valley. I guess girls are swooning over this guy. Not sure of the name, but I’m sure the music isn’t that great.

“Man,” I said to him. “I love carnivals.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” he said as he took a drag off his cigarette. “When you were little, you would cry if we passed a parking lot carnival and didn’t stop.”

“Really?” I truly don’t remember this ever happening.

“Yep,” he said. “You would cry all the way home, when you got out of the car, even when we put you in the bathtub. Sometimes, you would cry yourself to sleep after we put you to bed."

“Really?” I said again looking him straight in the eyes expecting him to smile and say ‘Just kidding’.

He didn’t blink. He was as serious as a heart attack.

“Man, I didn’t realize I was such a little pussy.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that big of a deal to us,” he said. “We just made sure we stayed away from carnivals whenever we went somewhere.”

“Really?” I said. I was completely dumbfounded. And yes, I realize, this is the third time I said Really in less than a page.

“Yep,” he said. “If we saw a carnival in the distance we would take a swift turn off the road and take an alternative way to wherever we were going.”

“Hmf,” I took a sip of beer thinking about all the kick-ass carnivals I missed when I was a kid. Thanks a lot mom and dad.

“So. why do you like carnivals so much,” my dad asked waking me up from my newfound embarrassment.

I thought about his question for a couple seconds.

“Well, I guess I like the lights, the smells, the rides and the games,” I said. “I guess I like the fact that I’m part of this little piece of Americana that literally makes a ton of people happy for one week out of the year.”

“Then, just like a hurricane, the carnival impacts the whole community, wraps up and leaves overnight with various carnival debris whipping around the parking lot. The only remnants of its brief existence.”

“Hmf,” he said as a wisp of cigarette “Interesting.”

A brief silence followed.

“You know what I like about carnivals?” my dad piped up.

I shook my head.

He took another drag of his cigarette and let out another puff of smoke.

“Elephant ears," he said.