I’m still not entirely sure why she did this, but it was a tremendous day for me. It had been a couple of years since I invoked her “you don’t have to go on vacations after you turn 16” clause, which was probably heartbreaking for a woman that loved to drive really far to sleep outside. But while I can acknowledge the sadness now, I cannot feel remorse because I hate camping that much.

But she did not hold it against me. Or maybe she knew the fireworks would piss off her (now ex-) fiancee, which had become something of a pastime for us. Perhaps the bag would have stayed in New Hampshire it if she knew just how much it would piss him off.

Upon receiving the bounty, I called some friends up and told them to get ready for the show. It would take place in the standard venue: a patch of dirt in the middle of my mother’s backyard. Or so I thought.

Her ex felt that the trees were too close to the firing zone even though a.) they weren’t and b.) it had recently rained. Still, it was his house and he recently helped transport some illegal fireworks over state lines for me, so this was a rare time I was in no mood to argue. Following his instructions, I moved the show to the middle of the yard. Since the ground here wasn’t as flat as my usual area, I supported the small box shaped package with 4 bricks we had laying around. Then I lit it and ran.

The fuse hissed and then went silent. Moments later, the first shot went up, a brilliant purple ball that flew about 25 feet in the air before expiring like a small, beautiful supernova. The next shot was a beautiful red comet that flew directly at me. I dodged and it slapped into the side of the house. The next shot went into the neighbor’s yard.

It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.

The force of the first shot had knocked the box free of the bricks and onto it’s side, where every successive shot spun the thing around so you never knew where the next round was going. There was nothing we could do but keep dodging until it was done. Well, I guess we could have ran into the house, but I was crying with laughter and not thinking straight.

When the thing finally burned itself out, my mom’s ex announced that the rest of the show was canceled because I “want to act like an adult but you’re not responsible enough”, even though at least 4 other people heard him give the instructions that got his camper lightly grazed by a small green ball of sparks. I’d probably be madder about that if getting yelled at by someone for following their instructions wasn’t a tremendous preparation for the world of work.

He instructed my mom to get rid of the fireworks, which meant she put them in the basement and told me where they were when she went on her next vacation, telling me to definitely not light them off while they were gone *wink*. I definitely did not throw the remnants of a fireworks show into the family fire pit and spend an hour trying to put out a fire that changed colors every time I sprayed it with water.

One of Two Times I Mowed a Lawn

I lived in apartments for most of my life, so I haven’t done a lot of lawn mowing in my day, which is good because I hate it and I’m bad at it.

But when my mom and that same ex took a trip to Florida and left me in charge of the house, the only instructions I received were “don’t leave a mess in the sink” and “mow the lawn”. I should not have to tell you that I waited until the literal last minute to do both of those things.

Mom’s ex’s son was big into lawnmower racing, so we had a bunch of lawnmowers laying around the yard in various states of disrepair. With about an hour to go before we had to pick up mom and her ex from the airport, my buddy and I decided to give lawnmower racing a go ourselves.

Apparently we didn’t do a good job, because I was banned from yard work after that, though I assure you all the grass was shorter than it was when we started. Her ex was so mad he couldn’t even yell at me directly. I felt bad that mom had to get a lecture about the proper latticework pattern we were supposed to cut the lawn in, but in our defense, we had wasted a bunch of time playing Animal Crossing for the GameCube and did not think–or care–that the blades on one of the mowers might be higher than the blades on the other mower.

Things I Like

July is the month of my absolute favorite holiday: the anniversary of the theatrical release of Terminator 2: Judgment Day.

It was not the first R-rated movie I ever saw–we had HBO when I was younger and I was a child raised by the tv–but it is the first R-rated movie I saw in theaters. I swear I saw it early as part of some sneak preview screening, but I can find no evidence of this anywhere on the internet. And I believe I only saw it 2 or 3 times in theaters, because unlike the 8 or so times I saw Batman, a parent or guardian had to actual stay in the theater with me, not just drop me off and then swing back in 2 hours. Still, every moment was seared into my tiny little brain the moment I saw it.

Even at a young age, I was a cranky little bastard, so my dad came up with the idea of my stepmother taking me to see it the first time, perhaps in hopes that I would stop suggesting that if she wanted tacos for dinner maybe she should take a trip to Mexico. It worked for a spell. My instinct for self preservation was high enough that I knew I had to play nice if I wanted further access to movies I was probably too young to see. Really backfired on me about a year later when we took a family trip to see Under Siege and we all spent an awkward few minutes looking at Erika Eleniak’s boobs as a family.

Still worth it to see that T2 spillway chase on the big screen.