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Amrka

Amrka, for those who aren’t enlightened, is the hillbilly pronunciation of our fair nation, America, in which those who generally have the most pride and say the name with the most fervor grumble it out sans vowels.  This is best done in a low gravelly voice and can only benefit from drinking whiskey or smoking a cigar and/or corncob pipe while saying it.  Try it right now.  Feels good, no?

Anyway, yesterday was 4th of July, the celebration of Amrka breaking away from England (no hillbilly pronunciation for that one; why do you think we broke away?)  To celebrate, I did the most American things I could think of.  A truly paradigmatic Independence Day.

I began the day by drinking a Coca-Cola (with lunch, relax). 

I then drove to a friend’s house and heard Journey on the way.  It was “Don’t Stop Believing”… the DANCE REMIX.  That’s at least semi-American.

On my way over I passed a children’s lemonade stand.  Initially I drove past, but then immediately felt like the Grinch who stole 4th of July, so I drove around the block and went back.  Kudos to this family for only charging 25 cents; my lemonade stand days are far behind me and I worried what toll inflation had taken on the market.  Because these kids were severely cute and I am sort of an adult now, I gave them a dollar.  Then I drove away delicately holding an open cup of lemonade.  Not my best laid plan.

Arriving at Lucy’s house, I commenced to spend hours alternating between in the pool and beside the pool.  We drank Mike’s Hard Lemonades and failed to ice her brother.  I felt this would have been a highlight, but did not want to be the friend who forced him to take a knee and chug a Mike’s Hard in front of their parents. 

Later in the day we attended another “beerbecue” at the house of a friend from high school.  The party was frequented by about a dozen other people from our high school, though no one else from our class.  At this party there was more pooltime (to which I declared that I intended to be in water more than on land that day.)  Also, we drank Bud Light Limes.  Amrka.

But alas, the day was not done!  Lucy and I awayed back to Freehold for the 4th of July fireworks.  I happen to live across the street from the fairgrounds on the opposite side of town, so I’d never been to the Boro fireworks because, well, I can see the other ones from my backyard or out my bedroom window.  This shocked everyone I told.  Oh well.  The fireworks launched from the Freehold Raceway – seriously, right on the track.  It was bizarre that we were in a racetrack watching fireworks, but I suppose very American.  I have always had what I thought was an irrational fear about one of the sparks falling on me; but then one fell on the woman in front of me, who promptly (and fairly) freaked out!  This speaks to me of being far too close to the situation.  I am proud to report that the fireworks were top-notch.  All the good ones: those waterfally ones, the big ones that become lots of little ones, the really loud ones, etc etc etc.  They seemed to end when one of the standby firetrucks rushed into the center to put out what appeared to be a raging fire.  Lucy claimed this was normal, and I just never saw them at the launch site.  This may or may not be true, but we decided we’d seen enough and left.

At the fireworks, they played “Born in the USA,” which I’d say is about the most appropriate song usage ever for the combination of topic/holiday synergy and the fact that we were in Bruce’s hometown watching these fireworks.  That’s some Amrkan hometown pride!

Next we walked back to the Chili’s/Barnes & Noble parking lot, where my car was parked among others up on some grass.  I find it amusing how things like, you know, laws, just fell completely by the wayside on this day.  Perhaps it was an assertion of everyone’s own independence to park wherever the hell they wanted and jaywalk across a highway.  I moved my car into a spot about 15 feet away from where it had been, which took easily 20 minutes.  Thus secured, we proceeded to the Jersey Freeze, resident local ice cream shop, to partake in delicious soft-serve with a hundred of our fellow Freeholders. 

Finally, alas, the day had ended.  On the way home we saw that the fireworks had resumed, which lends to my opinion that there had been a real, albeit manageable, fire.  I hung out watching TV with my mom for a bit (my version of suburban Amrka, duh) and put myself to bed.  My only regret is that I did not watch Independence Day and revel in Amrka’s independence from alien oppressors (metaphor!… ?)  but I’d still say it was a successful 4th of July.

 
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