Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: barbecue

Live-Blogging: 4th of July on Reitz Hill

AT 1555

Well, the foot of the hill, at any rate. Time for our annual holiday BBQ! After shoveling dead beetles out of the front windowsill in expectation of guests, it’s on to personal preparation–I am wearing “Gunmetal Gray” eyeshadow, in honor of all the gunpowder that will be deployed tonight (not by us, I hasten to add), and “Watermelon Pink” lipstick, in honor of watermelon.

Rom bashed his hand with a sledgehammer, so that’s out of the way.

We have been preparing to the soundtrack of WABX radio: “EVANSVILLE’S ONLY CLASSIC ROCK STATION! AND CLASSIC CALL LETTERS!” No, sorry, they’re not. And I know whereof I speak, since my stepfather was a radio DJ, and worked at many stations. WLS/Chicago is classic. WABX can’t even be made into a cutesy slogan.

Ad on the said WABX: “For job-training, text JOB–that’s J-O-B–to…” As Rom said, if you have to be told how to spell “job,” you don’t have much of a future.

Most of the radio ads today are telling us to use their products responsibly. Because who could imagine setting off fireworks while drunk might cause a problem?

“Rock and roll never forgets”–Bob Seger

My version: “Rock and roll never forgives.”

Rom’s version: “Rock and roll can’t even remember.”

Kiss wants us to Rock and Roll All Night and Party Every Day. I don’t believe that’s a sustainable way of life.

In other music news, Yes continues to suck.

AT 1621

Um, why set off fireworks during the day? Obviously your World Leader needs to work on regulations for this area, or at least go glare at the people up on the Reitz lot.

AT 1707

Water balloons have been brought. But no one would dare throw one at me, right?

AT 1719

I’d already consumed my supply of apple ale (brought by Nick previously in exchange for a garage door opener battery, because he is too feeble to open a garage) for this vacation, so Sister Elizabeth let me have one of hers! Hurray! I’ve already been transgressive by eating Doritos scoops BY THEMSELVES, without salsa, because salsa looks like puke.

AT 1906

Almost all our guests have gone. 2 praying mantises were spotted–size, small and smaller. Small children were told you shouldn’t whack a set of wind chimes JUST AS HARD AS YOU CAN, thank you very much.

For the record, I was not one of the people who daintily cut a chunk of meat into thirds and only put part of it on their plate. I was all in.

I managed to avoid spilling said meat in my lap.

BONUS OBSERVATION, SINCE I FORGOT TO PUBLISH THIS POST YESTERDAY:

Crisis in Progress, Really?! division:

I am not the person to yell at if you dislike the fireworks laws.

–“It’s legal? Even if it sets my house on fire?” Actually, even if it did set your house on fire, that would not retroactively make it illegal. Another woman, having been told by my colleague 911SK that it was legal until 11:30 through July 9th (WHY?), said, “I want officers to drive through my neighborhood and make them think it’s illegal.” She actually thought that was her right as a taxpayer.

 

 

 

 

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Captured At Last

Yes, the Beast has now been in my home. How was he lured? With slabs of charred meat, of course.

Before they arrived, we cop-proofed the house (similar to child-proofing–lock the cabinets, put sharp objects out of reach, etc.).

His handler, Cinderella Sam, brought him by after dark, so he couldn’t see the tree in the back from that last frightening adventure. The cage car was parked on the street rather than in my driveway–I suppose because they thought they were only staying for a few minutes, the more fool them.

Once dragged inside the house, he kept looking up at the ceiling, fearing a net would drop down and trap him. Actually, I had put the nets away because we didn’t expect our guests to arrive so late. (If the nets aren’t taken down and cleaned regularly, they collect spiderwebs. Nick was once stalked by a rabid spider which had to be shot, so it wasn’t worth risking a traumatic flashback.)

After throwing pork steaks in his general direction, and tossing small pink cupcakes for dessert, he grabbed my jar of chocolate chips, dragged them into the corner, and growled when approached. To distract him, I grabbed the nearest thing to hand–a tube of lip balm–and held it up. “Look! It’s purple!” He raised his head, eyes gleaming, and I grabbed the candy jar back before he could bite me. Then he gathered himself for a spring, so–distraction is so important!–I rolled the lip balm toward him, and he snapped it up at once and swallowed it. “It’s vanilla-flavored! Do you have a chocolate one?”

“No more chocolate for you,” I said hastily. “Let’s tour the house, shall we?”

He sniffed all around my office–the computer particularly fascinated him. “Is this where your stories come from?” I was afraid he would try to mark it in some manner, but, being a neat and cleanly beast, he contented himself with trying to look behind the screen to find the stories.

The bedroom was next. He was so excited to see my bed that he leaped up on it and began chasing his tail, and getting the sheets all rucked up, until Sam finally made him get down. I’m glad she did. I don’t know what we would have done if he’d decided to curl up on it.

There are some additional details, involving, well, apple ale, and a spider that tried to sit on my lap and made me hide behind Nick until Rom had killed it, but I’m leaving those out, because it’s my party and I’ll selectively edit what I want to.

I developed quite the headache before bedtime. When I told Nick about it the next day, he said, “People often get withdrawals after I leave.” As Saki said about a bratty child, I should like to spank him forever, stopping, of course, at mealtimes.

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