moosh in indy.

We knew we were in for some fun when we saw the giant inflatable pig giving us the thumbs up holding a plate of his own ribs. Cody noticed the big festival going on when he left school yesterday. His justification for wanting to go?
“There’s like 31 portapotties set up, it’s gotta be big.”
Yes ladies and gentlemen, since moving to Indy we base the activities we participate in on the number of honey buckets present.
Let me tell you what, the entire thing was a sight to behold. I’ve watched BBQ cookoffs on the food porn channel but this was outrageous. Every booth had to be bigger and better than their neighbors, and I may still regurgitate a little in my mouth when I think of BBQ sauce after my horrid experience with it during pregnancy but after seeing all those banners and shiny trophies I was half tempted to start up my own gospel of BBQ. There is no way to describe to you how SERIOUS these people take their ribs. When the boys saw how much four ribs would run them (about $7) they wanted to hightail it out to Wendy’s. That is until the voice of reason (being me) stepped in and said that I’d be disappointed if they didn’t have ribs. These things were GUARANTEED to be good, or else they wouldn’t be there with hour long lines waiting to get their food. So they both sucked it up, forked over about $10 each and had orgasmic rib experiences. Jason chose a combo meal at Pigfoot, Cody chose a 1/3 rack from Fatdaddy’s. The winner? No clue, neither of them would share. I made them thank me for making them get ribs. As we were leaving the band started playing “Sweet Home Alabama” only “Alabama” was changed to “Indiana”, and then and there I started to have Hoosier pride in a bunch of smoked meat, drunk cowboys, pig butts and 31 portapotties. I live in a great state.