It’s July! This means a few things. We have entered the time when you walk outside and are sweating far beyond your phone becoming slippery – you are in a nightmare. It’s about a thousand degrees and I am judging everyone I see with a sunburn.
The Fourth is here, which is a phenomenal excuse to have a hot dog, beverage, and give your dog a random substance or silly drug while in a blanket burrito because those fireworks are loud and proud, y’all. Not to sound like an unpatriotic Scrooge or whatever, but there is absolutely no reason for those fireworks to still be going past midnight. Some of y’all clearly don’t believe in bedtime – or choosing peace. Why are we awake past midnight anyway?
I’ve found myself saying “I can’t believe it’s (insert date)” since about March, but I really can’t believe it’s July. This has got to be a joke. It’s gotten to a point where I don’t care to know what day it is unless it’s Saturday for a variety of reasons: I’ll probably be at work, so no, I do not want to know what the UV index is; or I am not leaving my home, in order to prevent road rage caused by those who have apparently never been anywhere before or seen a traffic circle.
I will say this once, with an extreme amount of love and respect for our out-of-town friends who stimulate our economy: If 15-year-old me could figure it out, I promise that you can.
If I were a government official (even brainstorming this is laughable), I would make a rule that if you are going to visit our little paradise, you must pass a brief road test. There will be three questions. No partial credit. It’s pass or fail, baby. One question is about traffic circles, one about “keep moving, switch lanes later,” and one about “if you are turning left you must yield to those going straight through certain south-end intersections.” Yield, and go! So fun, so simple, almost mindless! This is not targeted whatsoever. I am not calling anyone out, and I’m not scared at all! Nervous laughter and slight panic ensue.
It seems appropriate for me to mention once again the Amigos skinny coconut margaritas. (No context, but this is important.) They serve them to-go. Like, you can literally buy them, take them home, and enjoy them in the privacy of your space. With no one there. Enjoy responsibly, but maybe not on Tuesday nights because I’m not the most patient person, and that line is getting longer by the week.
But back to the main event: the Fourth of July! This is probably the only holiday that any Southern woman will approve of a T-shirt and flip flops as attire. Bedazzled baseball hats. Light-up accessories – and I mean an obnoxious amount. Not the obnoxious amount in the sense that a young family member distributed them, but an obnoxious amount that just … somehow … works. Something that makes no sense even – anything and everything goes. It’s awesome. You know what else is awesome? Those plastic Tervis wine glasses, with the stem. Perfect for the boat or pool. Winning!
Continuing with my very professional-grade holiday content, let’s talk scheduling. This is a very serious question not meant in a snarky way whatsoever: Has anyone ever seen the flyover at the time it was actually supposed to happen? If you have, I would like two forms of evidence. I’m not hiding behind a screen calling you a liar, but I don’t believe you.
Oh boy, am I relieved to get that off my chest! Every year, we all discuss what time it will be held, and then wait around confused, only to stare at each other in a “Was that it, or are we just confused?” rage. There really is no telling what time this magical event will go down, but it’ll probably be an hour past the brutally disgusting hot dog eating contest.
Gregg Russell is back in Harbour Town and apparently so is the entire Midwest. It’s very hot. Bugs are somehow everywhere. It’s impossible to make Rainbow flip flops work with my business casual. My Subaru is a million degrees every time I get in it. Times are tough, y’all, times are tough.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Do not ask me what I am doing this summer and expect an exciting answer. As soon as it gets here, the sooner I hope it’s over. I know there are some kids out there who cry at the thought of school, but there are kids like me who would ask to go buy school supplies the day the list is posted. You are one or the other, there is no in-between. (To my school supply friends, how’s your Google calendar obsession going? Mine is color-coded.)
I wish you all a very happy and safe holiday weekend spent with family and friends. Next time you hear from me, we’ll be discussing August, one of the worst months of the year (other than my August birthday friends) and how it cannot get muggier out and we’re complaining about school traffic.
Wishing you all the best that the remainder of the summer has to offer, and try to enjoy the little things. Full disclosure, I will probably be complaining soon about it being cold and gray out, but we are dangerously close to football season and the fall, which is my true time to shine. Why does it rain every single day in January? Why is Thanksgiving the best holiday of the year? Because it just is. Here’s to us!
