I spent yesterday eating my way through the Texas State Fair.  Technically, Ben and I had driven to Dallas to watch the Red River Rivalry football game (the annual showdown between Texas and Oklahoma for those of you/us laymen), but really I came for the fried food.

I tend to avoid most fried foods in my real life, but a trip to a state fair is like Thanksgiving--nothing you eat has any calories.  I started off the morning with a Belgian waffle smothered in whipped cream, powdered sugar, and strawberries, purchased the second we walked through the entrance.  Ben walked a few feet ahead of me, pretending he did not know the woman covered from head to toe in powdered sugar.  After spending four hours not-eating during the football game (yeah, yeah, Texas won, great), I bolted from the stadium to get my hands on a "Corny" dog, which was just your standard, delicious corn-dog but deep-fried to a crisp perfection and complimented by an ice cold lemonade.  Next came one of those giant turkey legs that makes you feel like a total savage when you sink your teeth into it.  We hit a bump in the road when we made our way over to the fried butter stand (a prize-winning treat at this year's fair) and saw what looked to be at least a 45-minute long line.  The compromise: fried s'mores, which we told ourselves were way better than any old fried butter.  Besides, I heard the fried butter tasted like an undercooked biscuit. Big deal.  We topped off the afternoon with a basket of Tornado Taters, which were pretty much like your basic potato chips but way more delicious: freshly deep fried so they were hot and chewy instead of crispy.  On our way out, we used out leftover tickets to buy a caramel apple that has my name on it for an afternoon snack any minute now...

Other noteworthy, albeit non-edible, sights:

• World's smallest horse: We paid a dollar each to step right up and check out Tiny Tim, supposedly only 6 inches when he was born.  And you know what?  He was a total heifer, weighing in at 85 pounds.  I was picturing a horse so small my jaw would drop, the size of a lap dog.  Total rip-off.  And a little sad and creepy to see him in his coffin-esque underground bunker (designed to prevent a free-for-all).
• Pig races: If you can stand a little hokey farm humor, the pig races are a fairly pleasant, fairly disturbing way to pass the time while you rest your feet.  This was a little sad and creepy, too, watching these four little pigs jump hurdles around a track for the prize of one Oreo, but maybe it's better than the fair's alternatives (pork chop on a stick or chicken fried bacon baskets).
• Petting zoo: I paid a dollar for a dixie cup of feed to try my luck with the baby giraffe, zebra, and standard billy goats and lambs.  I had little luck with the cuter baby animals (shorter attention spans, I assume) and had to make due with some horned animal about my size whose age was a little dubious.  Like all of the above, a little sad and creepy.

Lessons learned from my first state fair?  Number 1: Get in line for the fair's prize-winning treat before you do anything else.  Blink and you'll miss it.  Number 2: Avoid the live animals and stick to the fried ones.  I really did feel guiltier watching the pig races than I did eating my Corny dog.  Or my turkey leg.  Isn't that awful? And now I feel guilty about feeling that way.  Salad for dinner!