I love chicken. I hate chicken. I like saying chicken and writing it.

God knows how much I love grilled chicken and yesterday afternoon I had my fill. I feasted heavily from my Dad’s blessed grill. Brats, chicken and some sort of smoked pork were all on the menu. I washed it all down with diet soda. Now I’m paying for it. Complete and total acid stomach. I took some Tums and tried to go back to sleep but no luck. I do work the truck unload at 4:30 this morning, so I will have something to do, soon. Cue violin track.

C. and I also lit off some fireworks at my parents house. My mom and I rummaged around for her stash. She said they probably didn’t have much as she pulled out a large box marked fireworks and cookie jar, maybe they had a bottle rocket left over from last year. Actually, she had quite a haul. C. and I set off to cause trouble, leaving Rhen with my Aunt. We decided that bottle rockets are lame and take too long for any sort of lasting impression so we went to long packs of firecrackers. C. would stand pretty far back while I would light them and run like a freak back to her, laughing. Since there was no breeze of any sort, they made some nice smoke rings, but overall we decided that fireworks just don’t hold their appeal like they did when we were kids. You know, since last year.

Listened to a little bit of A Prairie Home Companion too. They had a pretty good Tony Blair skit. It went something like, “Good evening Ladies and Gentleman. This is Tony Blair. I would like to remind you during your Independence Day celebration that the British are your only friends in the universe. So as you celebrate, rember not to get too chuffed up about it. Enjoy your sausages and remember that the British are your only friends in the universe.” I like the expression, chuffed up and the bit about enjoy your sausages.

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