Saturday the 4th
On the Roof
 I am growing terribly addicted to this Fatboy Slim cd... it makes me wish I could go dancing, even though I can't dance well. I make up for my lack of grace and coordination with enthusiasm. I'll definitely have to insist on including that in my itinerary in August.
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The man I work for had the cheek to ask if I'd do some work for him on the 4th of July. It wasn't that I had major plans (in fact, I had none) so much as that he wasn't going to pay me extra for working on a holiday. When he called on Friday, I was engrossed in L.A. Confidential and hastily said "yes, yes, I'll be there" to get him off the phone (he was about to launch into a long diatribe about how he thinks fireworks and other 4th of July festivities are crap). After the movie ended, I realized my error and called him up to tell him I wasn't coming in. I really need a new job after I return from Toronto. It rained throughout the day and we wondered if the fireworks show would be cancelled. Around 8 o'clock, I heard over the radio that the show was still on. I went out to the front porch to see my family gathered under the walkway, listening to the distant sounds of the 1812 Overture. One thing I can't understand: the 1812 Overture is about a battle between the French and the Russians. What does it have to do with American gaining its independence from Britain? According to Dad, they only play it because it has cannons in it. He said that the band would do just as well to blast cannons for 15 straight minutes instead. Anyhow, we got the ladder from the garage and climbed onto the roof. Mom, who is afraid of heights, stood on the sidewalk. I kept shouting down to her, mostly just because I discovered that I liked shouting things from the roof. Everytime a firework shot up into the air, I took to shouting "INCOMING!!!!" Dad was torn between laughing and telling me to stop it. As fireworks shows go, this one was very poorly done -- far too much time between the fireworks and far too many weak, fizzly ones. Dad discouraged me from shouting "You call that a firework?" We both sadly agreed that Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA is a corny song. Dad then asked if I didn't ever think I was too sarcastic. "Of course not," I said, "I consider myself to be an optimist. |
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musical sewage: Fatboy Slim, Better Living Through Chemistry | |