Yesterday was fourth of July. I am a bit notorious for going crazy on this particular holiday. In fact this is the first time in at least 3 years that I haven't had some crazy story to tell you. This year I shot off fireworks, drank some cheap beer, went to a bbq, got some ice cream, and went to bed by midnight.
Last year, I went to RTX, which was a blast. Seriously, if you have never gone to Rooster Teeth's big convention in Austin, you are missing out. Or at least hung out on 6th street for a night of shenanigans. They have a really cool arcade bar there with Jenga.
The year before that, I was in the beginning stages of a hitchhiking journey. The amazing night of debauchery that occurred on the fourth of July led to be me getting kicked out of the humble christian household (and by that I mean backwards psychos) that had held me and my partner up for a week at that point. The next week we would spend in a tent in the woods behind a Taco Bell.
The year before that I was married. Yes, I had put a ring on it. My husband took me to a bbq at his friend's. Little did I know, I would get so drunk, I would begin to fondle his ex, who I would find out he had cheated on me with in the past. Luckily, because I was so hammered, I didn't care, and eventually I would both vomit in his car, and pee successfully into a Gatorade bottle in his moving car. This achievement I am still proud of to this day.
