Who else has to work today, and who else finds that annoying? I was trying to think, "Did I have to work the day after the 4th last year?" then remembered I had no job, so maybe I could shut up now.
I spent the day with Ned, and if a picture paints a thousand words, then why can't it paint that Ned actually likes me? I promise you that in real life he isn't forever scowling at me. Ned hates having his picture taken, and those of you who hate your photo taken make my ass hurt.
So, Ned tolerates it because this is what he is stuck with, dating a blogger with tens of readers, but it doesn't mean he isn't gonna scowl. Also, he was convinced that t-shirt was too tight, and as you can see it wasn't. All day he went on about his skin-tight t-shirt, and did he look like that guy over there (there'd be some overweight man with his shirt clinging) and who was killing me, do you think.
Other than close-cotton-watch, we watched bands and looked at people and glanced disinterestly at booths and drank lemonade
So informed MCs, rain on and off, Ned in his body shirt. It was quite an afternoon.
At night, we went to dinner with Ned's family and then we scrounged out a place to watch the fireworks without the crowd. Here's Ned's brother-in-law, who we've decided to call Red because he's Republican and it's one letter off from Ned and we think we're hilarious, photo bombing old Second-Skin-Shirt's photo. Ned kidnapped a bunch of men his size by pretending he needed help moving a couch, then he put them in a pit and make them rub the lotion on its skin and eventually got this nice shirt.
If you never saw Silence of the Lambs you're all, "?" Also, what kind of nincompoop has never seen Silence of the Lambs, Clarice?
Ned didn't want to deal with the traffic and chaos of going to the actual place where the fireworks are being shown, so he suggested we try the parking lot of this manufacturing place he worked as a teenager. He worked Monday through Friday, 8-5, the summers of both junior and senior years. I worked, too, those summers. I worked hard to get melanoma later in life. I also worked at getting just the right ratio of Sun-In in my hair before turning my hair tangerine. You think it wasn't hard work trying not to sweat to death on that reflecting mat? You don't KNOW from work.
Anyway, we could see the fireworks despite the pesky trains in our way, but as you can see, there was just the right opening. That was good, because in that tight shirt, it'd have been hard for Ned to twist this way and that to see the fireworks otherwise.
Red and his daughter were watching right next to me, and he described the fireworks as sky glitter. "I like that," said his daughter, who by the way is too poised and lovely to be 13. I looked like a man and had the personality of Edsel when I was 13. I like how I act like either thing has gone away at present.
"Well, when you write your first book and get famous, you can use that phrase, sky glitter," he told her. "I'm using it as my blog title tomorrow," I said, because I'm the kind of person who steals from children.
At one point in the evening, Eds's ball got lost under the empty box of the new outside table mom got me for my birthday.
Dear Mom: We're cooking out this weekend and the box read: 'OUTDOOR TABLE,' so the jig was up anyway.
Anyway, here's Edsel's calm reaction to his ball being lost.
Eventually Tallulah went over there, lifted the box with her snout and left the room with the ball. She doesn't even LIKE playing with balls that much anymore. I think she just wanted to be mean to Edsel, and maybe was sick to death of that high-pitched bark. Who can blame her, really?
That is all. Thanks for reading this explosive post.