Smile Politely

Coulter goes swimming…

Wow, this has been a pretty hot little stretch we’ve gone through and I’m thrilled pissless that we’re getting a little break. Yeah, I know it’s still ninety degrees or whatever, but it seems pretty nice after watching everyone’s faces melt like the Nazis in Indiana Jones.

The only real problem now is that every old guy I see has nothing to say to me when I’m waiting in line at a store. Their fallback line of “Is it hot enough for you?” just doesn’t seem to really work unless it’s over a hundred degrees. This is fine with me. How the crap am I supposed to answer that question anyway? Is it hot enough for you? The first thing that comes to mind is simply saying, “Screw a whole lot of you.” I’m usually nicer than that though, so I end up saying something like, “Oh that’s really clever. Yes, it is hot enough for me, you crazy dickhead.” In retrospect, maybe that’s not all that much nicer. Let’s get it on.

BLOWING SHIT UP

Note: I know it’s a little late but I’ve still got some holiday stuff, so if this bothers you, save it until next year and read it then.

Yep, blowing shit up. Let’s be honest, that’s what the 4th of July is really about. Yes, it seems pretty American and all, but it doesn’t make a ton of sense. The reason we all celebrate is because July 4th was the day we declared our independence from Britain. If we were going to celebrate accurately we should all get together, cook out, get drunk, and then sign our names to something.

All of the celebration this past year seemed to start a little early and end a little late. I can’t remember a night in the past week or so where I didn’t hear fireworks going off somewhere. I have to say though — I think I’ve heard a few gunshots mixed in there, as well. I get it in a way. What is a gun besides a big, awesome, and dangerous firework? Besides, this is Illinois and I would bet it’s a whole hell of a lot easier to buy bullets in our state than it is fireworks. I suppose people just make the best with what they’re given. I speak for myself, and my dogs, when I say that I’m sort of glad the holiday has passed.

TRAINING DAY

Speaking of the dogs, which I haven’t for a while, they have not been exactly rolling sevens in the joy department lately, what with all the explosions and the heat. On the night of the big fireworks, Lucky was not exactly a strong soldier. He was sort of like Frances Scott Key in the War of 1812, except instead of writing a song about the rockets red glare, he shit on the floor. The only other difference is that Menthol didn’t write a song about it … at least as far as I know.

They did graduate from their dog school, and we are all very proud, though somewhat surprised. It was Lou’s second time in school, but it was Lucky’s first time. This would have been easy to notice since all Lucky did was howl his way through the first two classes. Lou just rolled his eyes and acted all cool. Anyway, they can now sit and lie down and walk properly, along with a few other things. They can now also pretend they have no idea how to do any of these things. It’s one thing to be dumb, but it really pisses me off when they just act like they are.

WELCOME TO OUR POOL

It has been nice to get out and swim a few times this summer. Of course, once you get to a certain age, you essentially become a pool toy for all your buddies kids to climb all over. I actually sort of enjoy this as an adult because it enables me to act like a dumbass kid again. I’m smacking people in the face with balls (not that way) and turning over rafts, and generally doing all the things the “pool rules” tell everyone not to do. It sorts of sucks when someone has to point out that you aren’t a kid anymore and you should probably chill the fuck out for a bit. It’s also a good way for them to get water splashed in their face. Even in a pool people don’t really like getting water slapped in their face. It’s weird.

I actually did get fooled once and that was sort of funny. A kid threw a ball at me and when I tried to throw it back to hit him he ducked and I hit someone who wasn’t a kid. There’s really nothing you can do besides smile and admit that you totally got played by someone a fourth of your age. The kids act like idiots because, you know, they’re kids. I act like an idiot because, you know, I’m an idiot and I’ve also had a couple of cocktails.

EXTRAS

  • I think I’ve come to a time in my life where I almost like the Refreshments more than I like the Replacements. I’m not sure whether to be happy or sad.
  • I should know this by now, but in the summer it’s a swell idea to make sure you always have about 20 times the amount of beer you think you’ll need in the house. I got bit in the ass by this twice last week. You ask a few friends to come party in the garage and for some reason you assume that 50 or so beers will be enough, especially since there are only five of you and there’s also a bunch of hard liquor. The next thing you know it’s past midnight and you’re mixing rye whiskey with Sunny D because there’s nothing else left. I either need different friends or a much larger refrigerator.

Buona Sera, senorina, kiss me goodnight.

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