Anyway, I'm sure everyone thought I was a bitch because I sat in a chair most of the night looking irritated. My head was killing me, it was hot and humid, and I didn't know many people anyway. I felt a little better once I ate one of the soy hotdogs I brought with me, and once it got dark. They must have spent $500-600 on the fireworks, which were very cool. The cops didn't show up, but I'm sure his neighbors just loved it.

At one point, Mike and another redneck yankee, Pat, were getting in my face (in Mike's case, literally) about what I will and will not eat. He tried to tell me that fish is not meat. Um, ok. Yeah, he was drunk. He was also hip to hip with me. I guess his drunken lean ended up with him right next to me and so close to my face that I could barely focus on him. I moved a couple of times only to have him zoom in again. Jeff said it was just because he was drunk. Pat asked me to divorce Jeff and marry him. Yeah, sure.

It was entertaining, at least. Mike's son and some of his friends were shooting bottle rockets before it got dark. One came up on the patio, or very close. His mom came out and said, "If that happens again, it's over" pronounced "ovah." Then Mike and all his friends started yelling "ovah!" ovah and ovah (crimson and clovah?), heckling her. That was a highlight. Guess you had to be there.