My Foray into Hell

Fireworks down on the Riverfront, or…My foray into Hell..

Okay folks, I have a few things I need to vent on here tonight. I took the boys down to the riverfront to see fireworks, and I knew I was already feeling ill, so I know that's why I'm so bitchy, but..

People….some things shouldn't HAVE to be spelled out..

1) Its gonna be crowded. Each year, over 500,000 people show up, so you are gonna get bumped. Guys, this is not a formal invitation to declare Armageddon. Step aside, and get over it.

2) Women, learn to dress in front of a mirror. If your belly hangs over your belt in any way…cover that shit up. Seriously. Unless you are one of the 15 year old supermodel with abs of steel these things are designed for…no belly shirts. And don't get me started on gold lame spandex…

3) On the same note…if you wear a size 20, do NOT raid your little sisters closet and squeeze your fat ass into a 4. When your shirt is so tight, I can literally see the indent in your belly button, buy a goddamn shirt that fits!

4) Parents…if you either dress or allow your 12 year old daughter to dress like a $5 whore…people may actually treat her as such. Do not start a screaming match with the 19 year old perv who's drooling over your child who's wearing something that seems to consist of nothing more than dental floss, a handkerchief and two buttons. You dumb ignorant fucks..

5) Hey folks…your watching fireworks directly underneath one of the largest displays in the Midwest. It might actually be, dare I say it? NOISY!! Do not, for the love of God…bring your newborn infant, or child under the age of 18 months and not expect them to start shrieking in fear when the sonic booms go off less that 200 feet from you.

6) Guys, unless you can change the laws of physics, those 5 beers you just drank in the last 30 minutes did not give you the body of Hulk Hogan. Don't start a fight over stupid shit just because there's a crowd watching. Beer or no beer, you still look like a scrawny 130lb wuss. Yes, I'm talking to you.

7) Boys, I have 3 words for you: Pants. That. Fit. Yes, it was me who slid up to you wearing the red jeans that were so low you had to hold on to them and give gravity a helping hand with a gentle tug. And by the way…those nasty boxers do not become you….dumbass..

8) Parents…keep an eye on your damn kids!! Yes, you. You know who you are. Nuff said.

9) And last but not least, do not…for the love of all you hold Holy, do not butt in line in front of me after I've been waiting 45 damn minutes to get my son a lemonade.

Yep, don't mess with me when I've had chemo, had to deal with Ed, and deal with morons all day..