After work and trooping to the PO box to pick up mail, the SO and I dashed to the RNA Showgrounds for Oktoberfest - beer, pretzels, cheesy music and apple strudel. And not necessarily in that order.
dvoid has been organising tables for us in the private area, which translates to dedicated tables, more space (ie. no shoving with the crowd), a gingerbread cookie necklace and free stein of beer upon arrival, a cold cut platter, champagne, a bar wench to get our beers for us, private toilets (a godsend) and apple strudel. 
Our bar wench was unfortunately run off her feet with our tables. Our demand for beer is a bottom-less pit! (^_^)
Except for me. Save the free stein, free champers and a few sips from the SO's stein, I didn't order any additional beer. Instead I opted for this:
A flashy plastic martini glass and refills of daquiris from the mobile outside. Yummy flashy lights. (^0^)/
We boogied to silly cheesy songs and basically monkeyed around. Except one of the private tables had older ladies (think 50s-60s) who were groping each other's tits. (x___x)
And no one groped mine, thanks. My boobs are mine. I don't share.
My creepers for dancing and trooping around in comfort - and walking home without blisters or sore feet. I love them so much and wanna get a pair in red.
As we walked through the Valley on the way home, some hobo asked the SO for change.
Hobo: "Got some change?"
The SO: "No."
Hobo: "Then how do you pay for her?" [pointing to me]
The SO: "Oi, she's my fucking wife, fuck off."
I am more expensive than pocket change, yo.
People photos from the day are on this Facebook album.
