July 4th: To be honest, I'm not a fan. The whole ordeal is just a tremendous noise fest featuring drunk people playing with fire, while their children threaten my life with sparklers. I, for one, have always been in favor of starting new traditions on this national holiday. After all, the United States of America didn't get to where it is today by playing with TNT and eating hot dogs. Or did it? ..
Commentary aside, by the end of the night, the group dwindled down to a few of us laying out on the grass in my backyard, downing watermelon by the spoonful, watching the clouds of smoke dissipate into the atmosphere, and attempting to wrap our feeble minds around some of life's greatest mysteries: how Larry King inexplicably remains alive, why Tila has forsaken the universally recognized last name of "Nguyen" and opted for "Tequila", whether Yankee Doodle was a fashion icon or just really liked pasta (what kind of nonsense is sticking a feather in your cap and calling it macaroni?), and more.
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Anyway, it's 3 a.m. and I'm exhausted.
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Happy Birthday America. Please keep your pants on.
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