Redneck July 4th

Being a girl, from the suburbs, in a county that outlaws fireworks, I never really FULLY understood the Bubba-factor that goes into the Fourth. Dear LAWD AWMIGHTY!!!!

Last year was so pleasant, a large group of friends gathered at a house where the back porch overlooked most of south St. Louis County. It was awsome - there were professional displays everywhere you looked and it went on for HOURS. I've never seen anything like it.

This year I was coerced by Mr. Wonderful to go to his family's get together - it's amazing, he said, you've never seen anything as spectacular. I tried to explain what I saw last year but his eyes just glazed over and he re-emphasized how COOL this one is. Oh okay.

So the evening begins with a great spread of food and kids setting off the smoke bombs and sparklers. It gets dark and the men and older boys start setting off the big fireworks - okay, but still doesn't beat last year. THEN, Mr Wonderful pulls out this pack of sparklers -150 or so that he's taped together - warns everybody to stay back because he only heard about doing this and isn't sure what it'll do. It goes bang. Let me rephrase that it goes BOOM! Big fucking BOMB type BOOM! He tee hees and giggles and gets patted on the back by the other guys. Us women are looking at eachother (including the ones related to these men and have endured this crap for eons) wondering what the big deal was. It was fire and it made big noise - grunt grunt grunt. They scramble to find more sparklers and tape. The second one was a failure, it just went up in flames with no big BOOM. They get in a huddle and discuss clearing the shelves of sparklers during after 4th sales so they can make them this weekend. Mr. Wonderful is instructed to bring lots of them next year.

So then it's time for the grand finalé. All women and children are instructed to go inside and watch from the window and the boys pull out the gas cans. Okay, now this ended up being pretty cool, but NEVER would somebody with estrogen flowing through her veins ever dream up such a thing.... The men had spent an hour earlier that day building this box (which involved a power saw, wood, nails, hammers, and a wire cage covering) and then put twelve bajillion bottle rockets in the cage covering. They pulled this "box" out to the end of the driveway, poured gasoline all over it, with a little trail back a ways so they could light it from a distance. It went off for about two minutes with bottle rockets shooting straight up and then fizzled out. THE WOMEN STARTED BOOING! I'm stunned, it was pretty, nobody got hurt. NOOOoooooo I was told, it's supposed to go on and on and on and on and shoot bottle rockets everywhere. So the men huddle again. Out comes the GASTANK from a motorcycle and they REGAS the box and relight it. OH MI GAWD!!!!!! Huge flames, bottle rockets EVERYWHERE, men running.

Oddly enough NO INJURIES and again, Mr Wonderful is the hero for putting out a fabulous display.

All I can say, it's a man thing and I don't understand.

The Waterbed Incident

In my old house I slept on a waterbed in the basement of a cozy two bedroom "bungalow". One night as I was almost asleep one of the corners of the sheet came off. This is a normal thing that can only be described as a royal pain in the azz. So I turn on the light, stand up, lift the corner (a herculean feat) and tuck the corner in. My hand gets wet. So I lift the corner again to inspect WHY there was water and sure enough there was an itty bitty little leak. I've had leaks before - that happens when an eighty pound pit bull likes to sleep on your bed. So I open my nightstand and pull out the repair kit. The goo stuff is all dried out. Dammit. Well it was a litle leak so I say screw it and crawl back into bed with the corner untucked.

Following night - FORGOT TO BUY A NEW REPAIR KIT. Idiot, idiot, idiot - WHAT WAS I THINKING???? The problem was I WASN'T THINKING!

Next Morning - I'm getting dressed and notice that the carpet is a little damp. I look at the foot of my bed and sure enough there is water pooling inside the liner and it is dripping onto the floor.

That night - Nearly forget I need to buy a patch, but in the nick of time run to Walmart. Patch kit - $1.89!!!! Now y'all know that I had to pick up another $20 of stuff. And of course it was the last of the month, the most deadly time to be in a Walmart being check-day for half of the population. So it took me an hour to get out of there. When I finally managed to get home I do the quick three minute repair and go on with my routine for the night. But I failed to mop up and wet vac the pool that has formed around my mattress.

Next night - Pool still there, but like the other nights it's not touching my sheets which as soon as I discovered the pool several days ago had pulled off the corners. I sleep dry.

Following Morning - The wet spot on my carpet is growing and now there is a distict dripping sound. I lay down towels and scold myself for not pulling out the wetvac last night. I also poke around at the pool to see how deep it is - ZAP! Hmmmm, did I just get electricuted? TRY IT AGAIN - ZAP!!! Why I think I did! Of course this wasn't a hair frizzling event, more like putting your tongue on a battery. It entices you to do it again. Finally the mother in me steps in and puts a stop to the shenanigans. Wisely I put on rubber soled shoes and unplug the bed's waterheater. And then poke my finger in the water to make sure it's off.

Seriously

Ways to horrify a man

Ways to horrify a man:

We were on our annual house boat trip, the gang, the obnoxious people you fear bringing "nice" people around. We were full swing into our drinking after a full day of even more drinking. My beaux at the time, a large body builder type threatened to toss loudmouth Pabitcha (her nickname for the past 8 years until this night) overboard. Naaaaah uhhhhh... she wasn't going to have any of that. And she yells a very graphic threat.

Now Beaux-At-The-Time, being new to the group and having previous contact with mostly "nice" people, didn't believe the threat. I covered my eyes, Booty backed up and Pabitcha's hubby, the fantastic master chef "Mickalicious", was just coming up the stairs when he saw the frakus and, knowing his wife, promptly turned around and went the other direction.

Beaux-At-The-Time, still oblivious to the serious nature of the situation, proceeded to lift Pabitcha at which point she made good on her threat and yanked out her tampon! She was promptly dropped to the ground as Beaux-At-The-Time stood in horror while she swung the cotton pony by the string above her head. Now it hadn't been in for very long, so there was no visible stainage, but she had been swimming so it was ladden with lake water and one of the other husbands, a nurse of all things, who should be used to bodily fluids, got splattered with what he referred to as "twat juice". Beaux-At-The-Time probably still suffers nightmares from the event and the male nurse surely had his eye properly flushed when he reached land.

Pabitcha has now been renamed RIPCORD.