Stampede, in the Pride Lands

I walked into the movie theater and paid full price, my student ID sitting wasted on top of my desk at home. When I asked Lady full of Angst behind the window why I couldn't get $2 off my movie ticket even after paying for four years of college, she just grunted and asked what method of payment I would be using. I can't remember the last time I went to a theater all alonesome, I'm not sure if it has ever happened. I got good news via text from my brother just as the movie was starting: "I've seen that movie, and it was horrible." Thus I knew I was in for a lovely ride with my good ol' friends Tommy Gunn and Johnny Deep Eyes.

Woke on the breakfast side of noon on Friday, just barely, and dipped over to the bank to make my last stand. The four people at the front desk, who were serving an empty lobby, deferred me once againt to my good pal Stuart, the investment specialist. He proceeded to slam out of his office and chastise the man who had called him on his "business" line, interrupting Stuart's conversatoin with a customer. Stuart finally saw me, huddled like a schoolgirl in a stiff lobby chair, wearing my Great Bible Reef shirt. He made me sign a form, and told me he hoped to see me again soon. I do not pretend to know what he meant by this, and didn't even bother to to gratify his statement with one of my own.

I stopped at a lake on the way home, did a few laps in the wonderfully warm water, and then roasted myself in the loving embrace of the sun. When I got home, I tried to read, realized I was wiped out like a convenience store floor, and decided a nap was my best option. Lauren was gone home for the weekend, and Chad is in whatever fault line he calls home, so I took leave right there in the living room. I stripped of my pond-scum encrusted shorts, and my shirt (my skin was itching from Solaris' touch.) So there I lie, and sleep, until Lauren busts through the fron door two hours later. Apparently needing to pick up a bag she had already packed after getting out of work. I am startled out of a sun-burned nap, which is greatly disorienting. Lauren and I, standing askance, one of us wearing only one piece of clothing, having only known each other for 3 weeks. It is at this point when I knew my Friday was going to be dazzling.

After Lauren left I went to Raleigh to meet up with Wisconsin's youngest son and his visiting female friend. I was introduced to the latter over a cup of sweet tea which turned out to inhibit a wee bit o' Grandpa's honey. We three, only one of us a King, made our way to downtown Raleigh, what the locals call "Glenwood." We met up at an Irish Pub with Summertime Susan's boyfriend, an electricity pusher posted at NCSU. Summertime wasn't there, but we met her boyfriend's roommate and his friends, and continued down the chummy hallway between late evening and early morning; and then a verbal karate match broke out. As it will be told in the history books: Wisconsin Lady hurled scholastic insults at the electrical engineer, and he refused to swallow the static without some witty insults of his own. We high-stepped out in low gear, and found traction in a place not far down the street.

The next day's event-horizon found me sucked into a black hole, and inside the hole was a projected moving image about Transforming pieces of metal that shoot each other. I was there with Mr. an Ms. Wisconsin, and one other Michigan graduate. From there, we made all the day's decisions based on the answer to the following: "What is the most American thing we can do?" So after being lazy at a bad movie, we stopped by the fair, planning on seeing the fireworks. It turned out to be a collection of hot dog stands and rusty "antique" bolts. A "turkey shoot" lured us all the way in, while I promised my mates that I would bag us a turkey for dinner, but shooting BB guns at a black and white target seemed the greatest letdown of the year after dreams of picking off a turkey at 500 yards with a high powered rifle.

Forget the fireworks, we decided that the next best American thing we could do would be to hop the fence of Wisconsin's community pool and have a few brats and burgers. These fine meats were accompanied by a two pound bag of cherries, chips and smashed tomatoes, watermelon, and strawberry shortcake. During this encounter, my phone was misbehaving, having flown out of my pocket during the fence-hopping exercise, and falling to its near death on the concrete. As such, I received none of my Independence Day phone greetings. This sadness was partially countered by a few games of Apples to Applecider. With promises of a trip to Wilmington beach, I left a happy American.

Sad to say, rain dampened our plans of playing shark tag today, but another time for that adventure. Don't get me wrong, I love sharks, but, in similar news, I am deathly afraid of being attacked. This is why I always have, and always will, swim with a knife.