Moderator: Dictators in Training
Gaazy wrote:Now vonk on the other hand, is one of the most self absorbed know it alls in my memory of this site. Ive always thought so, and I still cant understand why in gods name he is here
leah wrote:ugh i hate loud fireworks.
Maeya wrote:And then your head just aches from having your hair pulled so tight for so long...
I worked and hated my life enough to consider killing myself. Yay.
Harrison wrote:I don't really want to talk about it.
All it's going to do is make it worse.
vonkaar wrote:my 4th:Spent $150 on fireworks... mostly small shit, but also a few redneck nukes
Bought 4lbs of 16-count (big) shrimp, grilled them with a chipotle-lime marinade.
Helped wife bake 24 chocolate ice-cream cupcakes
Head over to my parents house in the country
My mom made fried chicken and homemade biscuits
Sister made awesome dessert
Went outside with nephews (ages 8 & 5) to light the 'daytime' fireworks - smoke bombs, 'snakes' and then a couple strings of blackcats...
That's when my dog pissed himself and ran 200 feet away from me. I caught him, put him inside my dad's fenced area... and went back to pop more fireworks. Now... the important part to my story is, I didn't want to bring my stupid dog. My wife insisted, because the youngest nephew loves the dog. I *specifically* said that the pussy dog will freak out from the loud bangs. This is a 10-month old black cocker spaniel... and he's a complete wuss. Jen said that he'll be fine, so we brought him. Back to the story...So... nighttime arrives and we go outside to do the 'real' fireworks.
I light some punks for my nephews, and start handing out the little stuff... spinners, cones, a few rockets...
I'm handing out all of the fireworks, and I can't 'deliver' them quickly enough... my nephews keep running over with lit punks, putting their hands in the boxes... So, I'm constantly bitching at them to stand back...
Sam (the 5 y/o) ignores me, runs his hands through the bag and then stabs me in the shoulder with a lit punk... burning a hole through my shirt into my flesh.
I bitch for a minute, and then we continue lighting stuff... finally move onto a few of the artillery cannons.
Boom! Boom! wheee
Wife walks outside and immediately asks, "Where's Andy?" (we give human names to our pets)
I say, "Damfino..."
So... we stop popping everything and go looking for my stupid black dog... in the pitch black... in a heavily forested 3 acres.
Kids are whining... we are looking everywhere, calling for the dog... can't find shit with our tiny flashlights.
90 minutes later, we head off to wal-mart to buy some giant flashlights...
We get back, look for another 15 minutes and my sister has to take her kids home because it's so late. I apologize to the kids, promising that I'll buy them HUGE fireworks next year.
We decide that we'll just stay the night and look for him in the morning.
I continue the search, and after 2.5 hours, I find the fucking dog hiding in my dad's GIANT cactus patch.
The neighbors are still popping their mortars and blackcats off, so he won't budge.
I have to reach into the fucking cacti to pull my fatass dog out... splinters all in my arms... then I look down and see that I'm standing in a fireant pile and have 30+ ants crawling all over my flip-flop clad feet. Awesome.
Give the rest of the fireworks to my dad... maybe 10% were used... and we were looking all over for the dog when the city fireworks went off, so we missed everything.
We get in the car to drive home... the night was ruined and apparently this is all my fault
Next 4th will be better...
Harrison wrote:I don't really want to talk about it.
All it's going to do is make it worse.
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