Cheeseheads

When the morons visit Wisconsin, we naturally seek out our own kind.

Such was the case when the Colonel and the Blond attended the Wedding-Event-o-the-Decade last weekend.
Flo, JC, and L'il Penny at the wedding. Keep an eye on the one in the middle. She has dangerous ideas .

Sitting around the pool the day following the nuptials, the Colonel was thoroughly enjoying the relaxing reunion-type vibe as good friends renewed all-too-long separated acquaintances. The wedding had been fantastic, and the fellowship had been pleasantly exhausting. Now we were tired, and nothing was going to remove the Colonel from his comfortable deck chair.He should have known better.

"Hey!" said Honorary Moron JC, "Who wants to visit the AMISH CHEESE HOUSE?"

The Colonel regarded that lady over the top of his unnecessary, indoor sunglasses, "You're kidding, right?"

The Blond (Charter Member: Morons inc.) chimed in, "Oooooo. That sounds good! Where is it?"

JC was exuberant. "Right across the parking lot!"

Having been dragged from poolside, forced to change clothes, and walking out into 40 degree weather, the Colonel was not amused.

"Uh...that's a SHELL Station."

"Exactly!" bubbled JC, "The Cheese House in in the back!"Not a good sign.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a cool guy with a beard dressed in basic black cutting samples on an old wooden barrel.

What we got instead was a tiny cooler in the back corner, filled with clever cow-shape-based dairy products.JC and the Blond seemed pleased.

I wanted one shaped like Brett Favre, but they were sold out.