feisty fourth

star

right about now, people back home (and i mean people in lawrence county, pennsylvania, NOT pittsburgh, where most of you think i’m from, but i’m not. i just lie a lot. and you can probably include all the surrounding counties as well, since most of us from that area just lump it all together. i think you figured that out by now.) are readying their firearms to celebrate ‘Mericah and her big, bad birthday. yes. seriously. there will be lots of shootin’ shit and drinking and eating and a few fights will most likely occur and then, you guessed it, more shooting.

i’m not judging. i think it’s fucking hysterical. in fact, i’ve taken part. and it’s all fun and games, as you’ve heard. as long as no one shoots an eye out. i’m not sure that’s ever really happened, anyway. how do you shoot an eye out? i mean, wouldn’t the back, or front (or even side?) of your head also go with it? maybe not. i’m just not sure. i’ll look into that.

but back to the shootin’ …

where i’m from, this is normal and actually expected. if you don’t like shooting into the air to celebrate things like lady liberty’s birthday or another new year coming along, you just don’t fit in. people probably do it when babies are born, when someone gets a new job, when someone survives another round of layoffs …

oh, wait.

when there are layoffs, you don’t play with guns. not acceptable. even if you survived the cut. just not cool.

of course, i’m only joking.

kind of.

but yeah. i can say all this shit and laugh because nobody from home actually reads anything i write. and because i’m mostly kidding, of course. i love them all. dearly. but still. it’s what we do. or did. or something.

and for the record:

i’ve never been one for parades and fireworks. just not my idea of a good time. i remember one time when as a family we blew some things up in the driveway (this time it actually WAS for the fourth of july) and my dad lit some little thing that looked innocent enough. but the little shit (the firework, not my dad) decided to fly all around in circles (it was a plane firework, after all) and then COME RIGHT AT US as we all stood “protected” in our car port. (note: car ports, for those who are of the “garage” persuasion, is a garage with no side walls. it’s still attached to our house, but still pretty much in the open air. just letting you know.) the damn thing zoomed in there going at least 450 mph (or the speed i’m sure most planes get to, right?) and burned all the hair off my dad’s head. that’s why he’s bald now. it was horrible. nobody remembered the whole “stop, drop and roll” bit. we were all running around, flailing our arms.

blood. everywhere.

seriously. i’m not lying.

shit.

i already told you i lie.

well.

the first part was true. the part about the plane flying in the car port. and we all screamed. or at least i’m sure i did. and to this day, i don’t really like fireworks.

but that doesn’t explain my ill-will toward parades. seriously, people. you really enjoy sitting in the 100-degree weather to watch people walk past you? slowly? and then those said people throw shit at you. it’s just annoying. and then i came to indianapolis, where you have to PAY (most of the time, at least for a good “seat”) to watch a parade.

seriously.

i’m feeling feisty. had you noticed?

anyway.

happy july 4, ‘mericah.

don’t shoot your eye out.

P.S. the photo has nothing to do with any of this, because i already told you i don’t take part in july 4 festivities, usually. even tho tonight i am. because i’m bored. don’t judge me.

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