I am off to do the Fourth of July thing, which will consist of the same stuff we do every year: watch our tiny town parade, catch a movie, enjoy a burger on the grill, wander up the street and ooh and ahh over our fireworks display, relax with a nice cocktail, and watch (hopefully) cheesy re-enactments of historical events on the History Channel until the wee hours.
It might not seem like much, but I really, REALLY love our July Fourth celebration.
Oh, and might I add that I agree with this guy - can we maybe lay off the relentless END OF DAYS AMERICA IS DOOOOOOOOMMMMMMEEEEDDDD OMGWTFBBQ!!! for a day or two?
Seriously, people. I only have the best interests of the authors in mind - can you imagine how exhausting it must be to spend all of your time contemplating the end of all your time? Everyone needs a vacation now and then, even the doomsayers.
In Durham. It has to be the water. Because how else can one smallish Southern city contain city officials like a school board that regularly devolves into fistfights, the entirety of stupidity, laziness and corruption that marked the lacrosse case, and now this:
"Allegations that a local Democratic official and her husband were involved in satanic rituals that included shackling people to beds, caging them and depriving them of food and water have horrified county party leaders."
Okay, maybe an alternate explanation could be that the devil made them do it...
Best quote in the entire piece, though, is right here:
"McCullough would not release details of the allegations, but he added, 'I don't want to leave the impression this is a widespread thing.'"
To which I can only reply a) I should hope not, and b) it's an election year and it's still early. Just wait.
An English professor writes a treatise on why english departments are such snakepits. It's actually an entertaining piece. I'm hoping that this piece isn't subscription only; if it is, here are a couple of pertinent excerpts:
"Perhaps we initiate and perpetuate interdepartmental fights in order to keep boredom at bay. Not that we do that consciously or calculatingly, but at some unrecognized level, aren't we itching for intensity? Tenured for life, we perhaps need the drama of conflict to inject the thrill of spontaneous emotion and extreme passion into our stable and predictable existences. Conflict might be our unacknowledged antidote for ennui.
"It might also be a cure for inconsequentiality. As a humanist, I am regularly asked to justify my seemingly arcane pursuits. And here's where conflict comes in handy. If academics as a group are fundamentally uncertain about the value of their activities, then fighting tooth and nail over the specifics of those activities implicitly attests to their value. Anger offers us a palpable form of validation. If we can get so worked up about our policies and practices that we are willing to scream at one another, then those policies and practices must be important and world altering, right?"
It continues in this vein. Again, an entertaining article, partly because of the unintentional humor provided by an english professor taking 20 paragraphs to say "the battles are so fierce because the stakes are so low." Hee.
Or, things I learned while spending 3 days with Hublet, The Boy, a gaggle of teenage girls (and one poor teenage boy).
- Never let a six-year-old apply your sunscreen.
- Teenagers have no concept of "refills of anything other than iced tea aren't free." Yeah, that'll be $10. Hope the 4 glasses of cranberry juice you just had to have were really tasty!
- Teenagers have no concept of how much a nice dinner should actually cost, unless they are excessively wealthy teenagers, in which case they have no concept of the kind of financial burden a $30 entree' for one dinner can be for some of their friends.
- Pursuant to the above, teenagers don't understand how completely inappropriate it is to go to a restaurant with $30 entrees--a restaurant which you selected and begged to go to, btw--and order off the children's menu. (Sorry, waiter-dude! At least the little twits tipped appropriately! You're welcome.)
- Pursuant to pursuant to the above, when dining out with 15 people, the majority of whom are adolescents, Pizza Inn is a totally awesome option, and one that we will take advantage of in the future.
- The only thing more annoying than clique-y teenage girls is clique-y teenage girls who deny that they're being clique-y.
- Also? I don't have a lot of patience with the pudgy outcast goth wannabes who marginalize themselves. Repeatedly. On purpose. And then sulk about it. (You know, I tried to be sympathetic - I remember what it was like to be self-conscious when you were stuck in the middle of a clique you didn't belong to, and I know all about the sort of aggressive overcompensation that can occur in that situation. And no, it's not fun to be stuck chatting with the totally uncool grownups instead of the other girls. BUT. With the exception of one stupid little girl (see next bullet point), the girls in this group were totally willing to be social and try to get along with each other--and not in that irritating faux way that they think adults can't see through. If Miss Thang, Goth Edition, doesn't learn how to meet these folks halfway, it's gonna be a long damn year. For her, anyway. Here endeth the sermon.)
- Nor do I have a lot of patience with mean girl wannabes who try to spar verbally with Hublet. That means you, blondie.
- It's called an ITINERARY. And next year, if I am forced on this trip, there will BY GOD BE ONE.
- By the same token, they're called ROOM ASSIGNMENTS. And RIDE ASSIGNMENTS. And only an Act of God will change either one.
- I am so happy to be turning 40 this year you have no idea.
- The chance of a six-year-old coming down with some random illness is directly proportional to how much he's looking forward to a particular trip.
Well, that about covers it. Except to say that after I arrived home yesterday I made a brief jaunt to the ABC store, where I procured a large bottle of Gray Goose vodka. I may even mix it with other liquids!
UPDATE: Want Hublet's take on the trip? It's here, and I'll bet you can guess which quote is mine pretty easily...
The Happening, by M. Night Shamalamadingdong. Described here as "Maximum Overdrive with hydrangeas." Classic.
The Love Guru, which apparently is responsible for the death of hope in America. Seriously. I've read pans before, but never have I seen this much vitriol. Which review to quote? The one that describes it as "anti-funny," which is mild, or the one accusing Mike Meyers of "putting a shotgun into the mouth of comedy and killing it?" Or maybe the podcast, wherein the reviewer seriously ponders whether or not Mike Meyers may be slightly retarded?
I was curious about Get Smart, which is one of my favorite shows ever, but it's looking like Netflix material. I am bummed out by this.
So I'm holding out for Wall-E. C'mon Pixar, save my summer!
This is a refreshing change from the usual "gold toilet and private islands" school of "how to use up cash when you've got more money than God."
Seriously, how cool would it be to grow up in a home with adventure puzzles built in?
Check out the slideshow.
We're back from Boston, which was a lot of fun and involved more excellent Italian food than Giada DeLaurentis can shake her stick-like arms at.
Plus we survived a canceled flight, the almost-loss of one Knuffle Bunny on a rainswept tarmac, and a metric ton of baby vomit (and its attendant aroma) while trapped inside the plane on the flight back.
I am still tired, and next week Hublet, The Boy and I will be accompanying 16 15-year-old girls to the beach for three days.
Anyone got some good "girly drink" recipes to share? Red wine will not be strong enough to aid my recovery from these trips...
