July 4th isn’t so much a celebration of our shared history as it is an excuse to recreate the Battle of Iowa Jima in 1/4th scale using gigatons of high-powered fireworks quasi-legally purchased at shady roadside stands along I-94.
Furthermore, you shouldn’t DARE leave the safety of the nearest fallout shelter once the sun has left the sky on the 4th, since that’s when beer and latent pyromania come together in spectacular fashion on every single block in Brew City and WOE be unto anyone in a vehicle or on foot once the festivities get underway.
hotshotrobot was kind enough to extend me an invitation to the celebration he was attending, and I, in turn, felt that I would be remiss as a guest to show up without a case of beer and the aforementioned fireworks.
Although my body trembled with desire upon spotting a firework for sale that was so large, I could have easily built a comfortable nest in its spent carcass, my pyrotechnics fund was on a tight budget this year, and I couldn’t quite justify spending $179 on sixty seconds of joy. starladear13 and I instead shopped around, picking up roman candles, shooting fountains, and evil little divebombing planes, wisely avoiding anything that made too much noise, as while the 4th is all about red, white, and blue, we didn’t want to draw any additional blue and red flashing lights to our location, as I’m fairly certain that cops don’t take checks as a form of bribery. Especially when the word ‘bribe’ is written in the memo field. ESPECIALLY when that check is going to bounce higher than a gymnast on speed hitting a trampoline at thirty miles per hour.
I’m used to buying my fireworks at the reservations now, where so long as you explode everything on property, there are no issues with Johnny Law, so when the woman at the register asked me if I had a permit, I didn’t know what to say or do. “N–” (nudge from Lesley) “Yes. Yes I do.” “Can I see it?” “….Noooooo. No. No, you can’t. It’s mine.”
The cashier gave me a look which clearly indicated, “You are an idiot and I hate you,” and made me purchase a fireworks permit, which is a total joke as it just gives permission to carry them, but not to light them.
Everyone at the party was very friendly and welcoming, and we drank, chatted, and laughed until dusk, when the real festivities began. In a strange sort of ‘steps from Kevin Bacon’ interconnectedness, my friend Nicki (bellachiara6) used to work with Josh, who is in a band with hotshotrobot, who danced a cha-cha with Tricia Helfer, who has a caricature of Kevin Bacon framed on her wall. Spooky.
America, FUCK YEAH.
We ended up lighting many a firework off of the porch, only venturing down to street level when it was absolutely necessary. Many bottle rocket fuses were twisted together in a spectacle that would have made Whitesnake proud.
Roman candles intitally proved problematic as the ground was too hard for them to be partially buried, and they clearly could not be laid flat. Eventually, we decided to risk the loss of appendages and held them while firing, chanting ‘USA! USA! USA!’ after each particularly awesome explosion. Someone (not me) suggested that we really ought to be shouting ‘China! China! China!’, which, while more accurate, is probably asking to be pelted with PBR cans.
Of course, things eventually got out of hand when someone (also not me) aimed a roman candle directly at two sorority girls walking by. Now, I’m as much for shooting explosives at that sort of girl as anyone, but if you’re going to do it, you really need to make sure that they (a)can’t identify you and (b)don’t come up, asking to light explosives of their own afterwards. Someone (again, not me) screamed to stop shooting things at the ‘sweet honeys’, and this devolved into nearly everyone on the porch chanting ‘sweet honeys, sweet honeys’ in a pure moment of mob mentality.
These ‘sweet honeys’ came up onto the porch and asked to light off some fireworks. One of the lightings went off without incident. The other? Well…she was handed a beer cup with two bottle rockets inside, with their fuses twisted together. Someone lit it for her, and one of the rockets shot off into the night. In ecstatic glee, she pulled the cup back towards her body…with a bottle rocket fuse still burning inside the cup. This action caused her to light her hair on fire. She screamed and started waving the cup around, pointing the still-burning-bottle at several people. There was panic on the porch as everyone scattered like cockroaches when a light is flipped on. The rocket shot off into a nearby bush, the hair was extinguished, and the sweet honeys left for safer pastures.
We saved the best for last. Something called the ‘Saturn Mega Ninja Orgasm Battery Rocketface MOTHERFUCKER 2000’…something like that. And it was, as promised, pretty damn awesome.
After the fireworks spectacles, cheeserock showed up, who was an absolute DELIGHT and I wish I could have spent more time with her. As it was, Lesley and I were in no position to drive anywhere, so I decided to go for gold and teach my liver who is the boss around these parts.
The problem, for me, with getting drunk is that no matter how much I drink, I NEVER FORGET the stupid things I say or do afterwards. So, the next morning, when I woke up in the fetal position on my beanbag chair bed, I all-too-clearly recalled slurring at hotshotrobot with a squinty eye like a surly, insane Clint Eastwood, that I thought he was very cute, and the ‘terrified animal caught in a trap’ face he made. These are the days of our lives!
It’s not that I don’t stand by my statement: He IS cute. It’s just…given the option of SAYING it and not saying it, why do I never, ever, err on the side of not saying it? Also, how is it that I can remember everything I said or did, but couldn’t remember to bring both my cell phone and my jacket back to Bristol with me? That mystery might be greater than that of the Sphinx or even the Face on Mars.
Still, the party was awesome sauce. If I had known Wisconsin could be fun a few years ago, I might have stayed.
I’ve always lived places where it was illegal to shoot fireworks (though until I was about 10, across the street from my house was legal), but I’ve never heard of a carry permit for the things. So long as you don’t bother anybody when you’re shooting, the South doesn’t care where you keep ’em.
Oh, it’s still illegal here–the only place you can possess/light off in Washington is really on the indian reservations. But THERE we can buy insanely large, INSANELY illegal things like dynamite, which only the extremely brave will try to take home.
I remember one summer when I was but a wee child, my dad and I got some super-awesome fireworks, and my mom wouldn’t let us light them anywhere near the house for fear of fires and police, so we biked around Lake Russo and shot them off there.
Lest my apparent “terrified animal caught in a trap” face lead you to think otherwise, it was super-mega-hella-rad to meet you. And for the record, i was going for more “genuinely flattered” than “terrified.” I blame the Miller Chill!
YOU are super-mega-hella-rad, and you have awesome friends. Y’all need to tour through Seattle sooner rather than later!
I cannot bring myself to taste-test a Miller Chill. They inexplicably terrify me.
Tours through Seattle for everybody!
How’s that 40% chance looking now?
By the end of the summer, I’m going to be damn good at playing tour guide–you out here next week, the week after that, my grandparents will be here, the week after that, my dad and little brother arrive, and a couple of weeks after that, will be here for PAX. I thought was coming out for PAX, too, but I haven’t heard anything from her on that front for a while.
Still, that’s lots of tours!
It was “80% chance of either Seattle or Minneapolis next week”. Now it’s “95% chance of both by the end of the month”. I’ve a meeting tomorrow morning that should clarify timing a bit; among other things, I need to explain to certain parties who have clearly never looked at a map[1] that trying to go to both of those cities, leaving the airport long enough to give presentations in each, and get back home all in one day is not in any way a good idea, and I’ll be having no part of it.
[1] Which is hilarious, given that we’re traveling specifically to show off a new mapping application.
That’s hilarious! I suppose that’s indicative of the way lots of people think about states they don’t live in/don’t care about– they tend to blend together.
Just GETTING to Seattle will take you the better part of a day. I can’t imagine leaving on the same day!
To Seattle and back is right at the edge of doable in a single day (assuming direct flights both directions) though I’d fight against it. A side trip to Minnesota means ten hours in the air (assuming a direct flight going the other direction), plus at least another six dealing with airports, before we even consider details like making the presentation, and eating.
Doing it all in a day sounds miserable. Plus, would you really be in top form to make a presentation when you’re exhausted from flying?
I would not.
I’m sort of hoping to end up with something like:
Tuesday morning, Memphis to Minneapolis (direct flight reasonably assured, as both are Northwest hubs).
Lunch and presentation in Minneapolis. Not counting on a side trip to the Fitzgerald Theatre, as I doubt there’ll be time to go to St. Paul and I’m sure I’m not travelling with Prarie Home Companion fans.
Tuesday evening, fly to Seattle.
Wednesday morning, presentation in Seattle.
Wednesday afternoon and evening free in Seattle (may involve 1/2 day vacation).
Thursday morning, start back to Memphis (preferably direct, but through Minneapolis or Detroit distinct possibilities).
I could also deal with that being Wednesday-Friday, so long as I’m back in Memphis in time to get my name in the line for book release Friday night.
Either way, you should still have my cell #; give me a call when you head into town/when you have free time and I’m sure President Wonka will let me disappear for an afternoon.
Assuming you haven’t changed numbers since Monday, yes, I still have your cell #. Will keep you posted.
not to mention bellachiara6 as soon as she finds cheap airfare!
How could anyone forget?
P.S. Yoooou….aaaare….sooooo…beautifullll…toooo…meeeee!
You don’t belong here. You’re a fraud and a phony, and it’s only a matter of time until they find you out. You told with me with the way you slump your shoulders, the way you talk into your chest, the way you smother yourself in bargain-basement lime-green polyester.
I AM NATURE’S GREATEST MIRACLE!
Fish sticks!? What in blazes are you talking about? Let the fools have their tar-tar sauce!
I am going to tell you three things that will haunt you for the rest of your life: You’ve crippled your father. You’ve ruined your family. And BALDNESS IS HEREDITARY.
LOVE the Terry icon!
ha! thank you!
WI is way fun.
I am delightful!!
YOU are delightful!
😀
Did that TV card work out for you?
won’t be testing it til i move, but i looked at it last night and i think it will work out very well for my Homebrew TV Plan.
Exxxxcellent! I’m glad that someone will be getting some use out of it!
land of the free my ass. you need a FUCKING PERMIT FOR FIREWORKS????
jesus tittyfucking christ…..
I would say it’s less of a permit and more of ‘since you signed this, you can’t sue us if you blow your damned hand off, dumbass’ sort of thing. Sue-happy nation and all.
it would never work here, EVER. you’ll have to trust me on that.