Happy Birthday, America, You Sexy-Ass Country

So, yesterday was July 4th. That's right, our sweet nation had it's birthday. And while the political atmosphere is fairly well fucked, I am still proud of my country. I look at America a lot like a family reunion. You have some fucked up family members, and that one uncle that you hope will secretly disappear, but you are generally happy by the end.

So how did I celebrate America's birthday? Like any good American, I got drunk as fuck and blew shit up. That's a lie. I did not get drunk as fuck. But I did blow shit up. Not really. But we had some fun times, regardless. Instead of celebrating on the actual 4th, like many people, my wife and I hosted a party the day before. Why would we do that? Because our friends party hard and I am too damn old to go hard on one day and go to work the next. Fuck that noise. I need to sleep.

So my wife and I sent out the call to our Game-Night Friends, and said that we were grilling food. We ended up grilling about 10 lbs of chicken, 10 chicken sausage, and fixing up a batch of brownies and cheesecake. The irony was that my Chinese wife was the one that wanted to make the cheesecake look like an American flag.  And I will tell you, that shit was delicious! I particularly liked eating the states, as opposed to the colonies. The states were far sweeter, which contrasted well with the slight citrus of the cheesecake, itself.

At this point, I need to call out our friend Noelle. I don't know what the fuck happened, but she damn near lost her right to come back to our house. When she first arrived, she bitched about the fact that I didn't mow the yard. To be fair, it was hot as shit and had rained. I didn't want to wreck our mower and I didn't want to sweat that much. We also have rabbits staying in our yards and I didn't want to fuck up their hiding spots, either. Then, Noelle decided to walk all over our picnic table. She got down, however, when one of the boards cracked. That's right. Noelle, who weighs nothing, got on the picnic table for no reason, and broke it. I feel like there's a rule somewhere that you have to be a certain level of drunk to stand on tables. It can be like a roller-coaster. "Must be This Fucked Up to Climb". Then you have a breathalyzer attached to a visual monitor. If the bar doesn't go high enough, you can't climb up on the table. If it is, then you can. And even then, you should be dancing. You don't have to dance well, you just have to dance. Hokey Pokey, anyone?

On a side note, I wonder if "Hokey Pokey" is slang for a "Hokum Polka". Either that, or it is really slang for something inappropriate. But I digress. After Noelle broke the table, she proceeded to go inside, eat my chicken, and spill my beer. Yes, that's right. Noelle hit the absolute standard for shitty house guest. She bitched and moaned, broke our shit, ate our food, and spilled my beer. What. The. Fuck. That's okay. She was doing something and got a small cut on her finger. I fetched her a bandage, commenting that she may or may not have contracted the AIDS. She acknowledged and accepted her rights and responsibilities, should that have happened. Disclaimer: She did not have the AIDS.

Beyond that, we got drunk and blew shit up. First of all, I am a big fan of getting drunk on box-wine. For whatever reason, I can get a good buzz and have zero after-effects. I don't get tired, I don't get nauseated, and I don't get dehydrated. When it came to blowing shit up, we didn't really. My wife and I bought the cheap Chinese fireworks. One favorite was the Shitting Dog. To be fair, I believe that the official name is Pooping Dog. You remember those fireworks that were called the snake? They were a shitty little pill that you would light on fire, and then it would expand into a shitty looking "snake". Well it turns out that you can put a cardboard picture of a dog pooping, and that shitty little snake turns into the most epic, burning bowel movement of all time.

There was one of them, where the dog was pooping and the fire started to come out the mouth, too. My wife immediately yelled, "TACO BELL!" It was amazing, because it looked the exact way you feel, when you have Taco Bell and eat the Diablo sauce. We also had a bunch of sparklers, which were fun. I was wearing a Superman Jersey and tall American flag top hat, and ran around with a sparkler in each hard. I was jumping and skipping like a pretty American butterfly. One of our friends mentioned that I pranced too hard for the sparklers to stay lit. I kindly explained to the man that this is America. We prance hard in the States. Do you think George Washington pranced slow? No! He pranced hard as a motherfucker and beat the Brits. You don't half-ass Freedom Prancing. Get it straight!

By the time the night ended, it was 0530 in the morning. I slept for four hours, got up, and cleaned the house. We then saw my Mother-In-Law, where I slept for another two hours and learned Chinese. Once we got home, I passed-out on the couch and my wife took her mother to see fireworks.

So that's it. My Chinese wife made an American cheesecake. We pranced and partied hard. We drank and blew shit up. And I slept for most of the actual 4th of July. 'Merica.