Hey, Y'all! Happy Co-Dependence Day Weekend!
~~~Independence Day- Aka- A Dysfunctional 4th- (No, Will Smith and Harry Connick Jr. are NOT in it- sheesh!)~~~
Who doesn't love an excuse to throw a party where people bring people that you don't know that bring people that you don't know, etc, throw some former carbon-based life form on the polluting pit of fire for all to enjoy, while drinking what- ever they didn't bring (it's always better when it's someone else's anyway) but only when it's BYOB; while the kids are remanded to the side yard (or front yard, depending on the level of white-trash) where they are free to break each other's limbs on the 20 yr old slip-n-slide, or blow holes in the neighbor's cat's ass with the cherry bombs one of the kids' uncle gave them (while coyly smurking and saying, "go have fun, Tiger, just don't let yer mom see ya")-
It's a time for really getting to know your neighbors- albeit only after the fire department has arrived to extinguish the fire on the roof caused the dad who was showing off for all the kids when he launched a Piccolo Pete-bottle rocket (pinched at the bottom with pliers then taped to a fireplace matchstick-which they CLAIM doesn't work any more-) and it screeched all the way up to a whopping 30 feet or so, then made a sharp 90 degree turn, straight for the neighbor's house (and of course, it's the neighbor that doesn't really like anyone else on the block- go figure), where it lands, jammed between two 30 year old roof shingles as it shrieks itself out, of course catching that 30 yr old shake roof on fire...
It's the time when the kids are all just waiting to see one of the uncles that always go to the reservation to buy the "illegals". When he shows up, they all know something's gonna get blown up- YEAH!!
It's the time when all the wives gather in the kitchen and prepare all the side dishes (and bitch about their husbands or their neighbors, doesn't really who)- because the manly men are all out back drinking Bud and Coors (maybe a Henry's if someone really splurged) hangin' around the bar-b-que, doing the manly cooking (after the manly preparation, of course- like "marinatin'" the chicken= let the chicken breast- had to be breasts, they're manyly men, all they eat are breasts- in Heinz 57, some store brand BBQ sauce, and the "secret" ingredient- beer- for about 15 minutes)- taking turns poking at the meat while it burns.
All the while they tell each other such horrible stories of how fucked up their jobs are (each having a story to tell that is worse than the previous)- like Tom, the neighbor, and his whiney brat kids that he has to "teach", and how unappreciative all those spoiled 5th graders are "they shud be thankin' may fer helpin keepin' 'em awl off drUgs, li'l ingrates"; or like how one day, Uncle Jimbo was delivering a truckload of "portable toilets" to a new concert venue, and he was behind schedule, so he decided to take what he thought was a shortcut, which in turn landed him in gridlock traffic due to an accident (some overturned Yugo caused a Culligan truck to jackknife, which cause a huge spill of it's contents, and since Uncle Jimbo knows that Culligan is really a government-run agency, where they deliver water that is spiked with this new super-brainwashing drug, which meant the local police had to come up with some "excuse" as to why they were bringing out a clean up crew along with hazmat to clean up a water spill)-
So Uncle Jimbo is already running about 2 hrs late, he's been in the truck for about 4 hrs straight and now, stuck in a praking lot of a freeway, he has "see a man about a horse- y'know, drop the kids off at the pool", and no where to go. So, Jimbo, never one to "pass a gift horse on the right, or look it in the eye when I spit in it's face", decides to "christen" one of the new Porta-Potties he has right there on the back of the truck. So he climbs up there, does his business, just as traffic starts movin again. He goes to open the door, and it's stuck! He starts screaming, banging on the door, etc.
It's not until the fire department comes and has to pry him out of this thing that he finally gets out- SO, of course, Uncle Jimbo thinks this is all some part of a greater consipiracy, and that there was something in that blue water that made him become part of the government's plans.
Uncle Jimbo doesn't start laughing until some little voice, way deep down, in the darkest recesses of his mind, tells him that all the other manly men are laughing at him- not WITH him (because he's not laughing yet). Undoubtedly, uncle Bob wets himself (this will be the first of several wettings this festive day for uncle Bob).
If one of the packs of rabid kids hasn't already caught one of the nearby fields on fire, there's the "show" that everyone has been quietly (or not) waiting for (no matter how much they hide it, all of them- they're all pyros and really just want to see something get blown up!).
This is when all the dads and uncles and older brothers grab the bags and boxes of crap that they feel is the best of the mix- there's the MONSTER, the JUBILEE, the KERRANG!, TORNADO, the BEAST, the JUMBO KING FAMILYSUPERPAK, and many more- each with a more ridiculous name that the other, and of course, the men all size each other up, "Yep, I spent 75.00 bucks on this bad boy, "- "I snatched this- got a great deal- only 125.00- and it came with this free MONDO SHOWERING INFERNO"- "Well, boys, that'll all be great to lead up to my grand finale. Check this out, " as he pulls out a plastic wrapped cardboard container that barely fits in the back of his Surburban (with the seats folded down). It takes two of them to carry it. "The Mega-Ultra-Superfantasmagorick- Jumbo Sparkariffic Thunder Boom!" The mother of all 'safe and sane' packs- which basically contains everything else that the others did, just more of them- except for the "Lightning Rod" Super Cone- the bad boy- 3 and half feet of pure showering spark love- the ultimate ultimate. All the uncles and dads and older brothers are speechless- but the pryo underlings aren't - they want it lit NOW!!! And they just want it to explode.
So, the family gathers out front- the rebel son or daughter of the host family sits atop the roof with their "friend in angst"-doing their absolute best at not enjoying anything around them.
The sun is still up- but that's ok- you can see the SMOKE POTS and SNAKES better in the light- all the kids love those- regardless of the fact that they all smell like rancid ass afterward- it's the thrill of that supercool ash serpent- or more like the thrill of trying to get it to stick together long enough look to like a snake, blocking the wind the best you can. Then the smoke pots- taping them to the back of the skateboards or bikes four, six at a time. Then lighting them all at once and riding back and forth as close to the older siblings as possible.
Then -finally- nightfall. What turns out to be 7 hours of 10 different variations of the same thing, save for the occasional bottle rocket that Uncle Dave would shoot off to keep everyone awake (and he would be the coolest by lighting it in his hand and not letting go until right when the flames and sparks showered his hand- which was OK for him, since he was always so drunk, he wouldn't feel until the next day anyway).
So, if you've read this far, it's probably because you've experience something similar to this, or at least know someone who has.And I didn't even get into the whole "going to the in-laws" version- that's a completely different kind of white-trash loathe fest.
Anyway- Hope you all have a completely -whatever you want it to be- Fourth o 'July-
Me? The wicked witch has the girls this year, my son is in Washington at some wedding with his mom and stepdad, and I volunteered to work (can't pass up on double time).
So, those of you that celebrate for the sake, be safe- but BLOW SOME SHIT UP FOR ME!!!
PEACE!
C
~~~Independence Day- Aka- A Dysfunctional 4th- (No, Will Smith and Harry Connick Jr. are NOT in it- sheesh!)~~~
Who doesn't love an excuse to throw a party where people bring people that you don't know that bring people that you don't know, etc, throw some former carbon-based life form on the polluting pit of fire for all to enjoy, while drinking what- ever they didn't bring (it's always better when it's someone else's anyway) but only when it's BYOB; while the kids are remanded to the side yard (or front yard, depending on the level of white-trash) where they are free to break each other's limbs on the 20 yr old slip-n-slide, or blow holes in the neighbor's cat's ass with the cherry bombs one of the kids' uncle gave them (while coyly smurking and saying, "go have fun, Tiger, just don't let yer mom see ya")-
It's a time for really getting to know your neighbors- albeit only after the fire department has arrived to extinguish the fire on the roof caused the dad who was showing off for all the kids when he launched a Piccolo Pete-bottle rocket (pinched at the bottom with pliers then taped to a fireplace matchstick-which they CLAIM doesn't work any more-) and it screeched all the way up to a whopping 30 feet or so, then made a sharp 90 degree turn, straight for the neighbor's house (and of course, it's the neighbor that doesn't really like anyone else on the block- go figure), where it lands, jammed between two 30 year old roof shingles as it shrieks itself out, of course catching that 30 yr old shake roof on fire...
It's the time when the kids are all just waiting to see one of the uncles that always go to the reservation to buy the "illegals". When he shows up, they all know something's gonna get blown up- YEAH!!
It's the time when all the wives gather in the kitchen and prepare all the side dishes (and bitch about their husbands or their neighbors, doesn't really who)- because the manly men are all out back drinking Bud and Coors (maybe a Henry's if someone really splurged) hangin' around the bar-b-que, doing the manly cooking (after the manly preparation, of course- like "marinatin'" the chicken= let the chicken breast- had to be breasts, they're manyly men, all they eat are breasts- in Heinz 57, some store brand BBQ sauce, and the "secret" ingredient- beer- for about 15 minutes)- taking turns poking at the meat while it burns.
All the while they tell each other such horrible stories of how fucked up their jobs are (each having a story to tell that is worse than the previous)- like Tom, the neighbor, and his whiney brat kids that he has to "teach", and how unappreciative all those spoiled 5th graders are "they shud be thankin' may fer helpin keepin' 'em awl off drUgs, li'l ingrates"; or like how one day, Uncle Jimbo was delivering a truckload of "portable toilets" to a new concert venue, and he was behind schedule, so he decided to take what he thought was a shortcut, which in turn landed him in gridlock traffic due to an accident (some overturned Yugo caused a Culligan truck to jackknife, which cause a huge spill of it's contents, and since Uncle Jimbo knows that Culligan is really a government-run agency, where they deliver water that is spiked with this new super-brainwashing drug, which meant the local police had to come up with some "excuse" as to why they were bringing out a clean up crew along with hazmat to clean up a water spill)-
So Uncle Jimbo is already running about 2 hrs late, he's been in the truck for about 4 hrs straight and now, stuck in a praking lot of a freeway, he has "see a man about a horse- y'know, drop the kids off at the pool", and no where to go. So, Jimbo, never one to "pass a gift horse on the right, or look it in the eye when I spit in it's face", decides to "christen" one of the new Porta-Potties he has right there on the back of the truck. So he climbs up there, does his business, just as traffic starts movin again. He goes to open the door, and it's stuck! He starts screaming, banging on the door, etc.
It's not until the fire department comes and has to pry him out of this thing that he finally gets out- SO, of course, Uncle Jimbo thinks this is all some part of a greater consipiracy, and that there was something in that blue water that made him become part of the government's plans.
Uncle Jimbo doesn't start laughing until some little voice, way deep down, in the darkest recesses of his mind, tells him that all the other manly men are laughing at him- not WITH him (because he's not laughing yet). Undoubtedly, uncle Bob wets himself (this will be the first of several wettings this festive day for uncle Bob).
If one of the packs of rabid kids hasn't already caught one of the nearby fields on fire, there's the "show" that everyone has been quietly (or not) waiting for (no matter how much they hide it, all of them- they're all pyros and really just want to see something get blown up!).
This is when all the dads and uncles and older brothers grab the bags and boxes of crap that they feel is the best of the mix- there's the MONSTER, the JUBILEE, the KERRANG!, TORNADO, the BEAST, the JUMBO KING FAMILYSUPERPAK, and many more- each with a more ridiculous name that the other, and of course, the men all size each other up, "Yep, I spent 75.00 bucks on this bad boy, "- "I snatched this- got a great deal- only 125.00- and it came with this free MONDO SHOWERING INFERNO"- "Well, boys, that'll all be great to lead up to my grand finale. Check this out, " as he pulls out a plastic wrapped cardboard container that barely fits in the back of his Surburban (with the seats folded down). It takes two of them to carry it. "The Mega-Ultra-Superfantasmagorick- Jumbo Sparkariffic Thunder Boom!" The mother of all 'safe and sane' packs- which basically contains everything else that the others did, just more of them- except for the "Lightning Rod" Super Cone- the bad boy- 3 and half feet of pure showering spark love- the ultimate ultimate. All the uncles and dads and older brothers are speechless- but the pryo underlings aren't - they want it lit NOW!!! And they just want it to explode.
So, the family gathers out front- the rebel son or daughter of the host family sits atop the roof with their "friend in angst"-doing their absolute best at not enjoying anything around them.
The sun is still up- but that's ok- you can see the SMOKE POTS and SNAKES better in the light- all the kids love those- regardless of the fact that they all smell like rancid ass afterward- it's the thrill of that supercool ash serpent- or more like the thrill of trying to get it to stick together long enough look to like a snake, blocking the wind the best you can. Then the smoke pots- taping them to the back of the skateboards or bikes four, six at a time. Then lighting them all at once and riding back and forth as close to the older siblings as possible.
Then -finally- nightfall. What turns out to be 7 hours of 10 different variations of the same thing, save for the occasional bottle rocket that Uncle Dave would shoot off to keep everyone awake (and he would be the coolest by lighting it in his hand and not letting go until right when the flames and sparks showered his hand- which was OK for him, since he was always so drunk, he wouldn't feel until the next day anyway).
So, if you've read this far, it's probably because you've experience something similar to this, or at least know someone who has.And I didn't even get into the whole "going to the in-laws" version- that's a completely different kind of white-trash loathe fest.
Anyway- Hope you all have a completely -whatever you want it to be- Fourth o 'July-
Me? The wicked witch has the girls this year, my son is in Washington at some wedding with his mom and stepdad, and I volunteered to work (can't pass up on double time).
So, those of you that celebrate for the sake, be safe- but BLOW SOME SHIT UP FOR ME!!!
PEACE!
C
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Thanks for the lovely email, i will write back soon.
I trust you to draw me what ever you want... its my birthday soon so hoorah for art.
love always.
Hols