No Wurstfest is complete without doing the Chicken Dance. From left, that's Ms. Noxious, my older daughter, Noxious Jr., my younger daughter (partially obscured), Bob Noxious (in beer hat, natch), little girl Nosregref, and M'Lady. Photography by Nosregref.I'm not in the photo because I was off doing a poorly-timed phone interview for a political show on KOOP radio. (For future reference, if a radio station wants to interview you, I don't recommend doing it in a place where loud polka music is coming from one direction and a very active set of railroad tracks is off the other way.)
Damn, I hate missing the Chicken Dance.
3 comments:
Now why didn't Mila and I go? Dammit! It seems like we were planning to go with you and then something came up. Was it just a general malaise of the soul?
It was fear of the Chicken Dance.
(Nah, that can't be true — not with the Czech blood in your family.)
I fear the chicken dance.
Or, at least I NEED to fear the chicken dance, because I apparently look like a giant douche while doing it.
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