Okay, enough already. I know it's almost July 4th, but if I have to be bombarded by one more night of illegal fireworks going off at the schoolyard down the street, I'm going to have to put on my bathrobe, put my hair in curlers, light a cigarette, and go scare me some young men. And you know I'm serious if I'm willing to let a cigarette touch my lips!
Yes, all the other boys are blowing their fingers off too, but that's no reason for you to wake me up at 2:30 a.m. from a dream in which I'm bathing in chocolate as swarthy Greek men who are also mute fan me with magnolia branches. And every time something goes boom, my dogs insist on barking for a full 15 minutes afterward, despite my assuring them that mom will kill the idiots later. Needless to say, I almost woke up on the wrong side of the law this morning.
It's not a good sign when immediately after checking my e-mail and Facebook page, I Google"tasers" trying to find out their range. Not far enough if you ask me. I want to be able to do my damage without being seen. I have a reputation as the funny lady on the street - don't want to ruin it with evildoing. Although after a few more sleepless nights, I won't care.
What is the connection between teenage boys (mostly) and their fathers (occasionally) taking to the streets to create a veritable war zone to celebrate our freedoms? Sure, there was firepower involved in becoming the United States of America, but there was also signing of documents, peaceful protesting, sewing of flags, education of children, survival of the elements, wearing of funny shoes with buckles on them, etc. So why is it that we don't see thread and fabric stands going up every June so that all the children can stitch together their own American flags? I'm sure emergency room docs would much prefer a few finger-pricks than having to sew whole digits back on because kids forget to let go of the bottle rocket.
I love a good 4th of July fireworks display as much as the next person, but one night is enough. And those booms are usually muffled by the sounds of the 1812 Overture or Beyonce's All the Single Ladies. That I can live with. Especially if I've had a margarita beforehand and it's not 3:30 in the morning.
So boys, take my advice and leave the explosives to the professionals. Or I'm going to have to get my revenge. I'm thinking I'll show up at your house at a time you're sleeping, say 2:00 p.m., and tell graphic jokes about menopause into a bullhorn on your front lawn. You celebrate freedom your way, I'll celebrate mine.
Hahaha! Cool posts! I love seeing beautiful fireworks but sometimes I hate the noise.
Posted by: Anne | August 02, 2010 at 11:41 PM