Groundhogs, Explosions, And A Lack Of Clothes
A fireworks display in the morning snow.
Normally, I’m not a big fan of the big booms on the Fourth (the mini-booms at my uncle’s house are a blast), but when they’re unexpected, they can be beautiful. A similar feeling snuck up on me last night on Veteran’s Day. I stayed at work a little later to avoid traffic… and read blogs. Sometimes my wireless Internet doesn’t work at home because my neighbor turns it off, or starts fiddling with it somehow – asshole (j/k if you read this, which you probably don’t, so j/k).
On the freeway, I passed a mall presenting a full-fledged spectacular, grand finale and all (I stopped at a Best Buy – what’s wrong with me?) I couldn’t stop smiling. The music on the radio even seemed to mesh with the flashing and flaring chemicals (seriously, what’s wrong with me?) It was… unexpected.
This made me realize that surprises are what it’s all about. Like hearing Christmas music on the radio the day after Halloween. It happens every year, but I forget that it’s going to happen and I actually enjoy it. (Although I do grow sick of it well before Thanksgiving, and I feel sick for admitting this all – damn happy music.)
Or it’s just like going to a party where you don’t expect to meet anyone of interest (whichever path of interest you choose), and you gain an insight or catch an STD. Regardless, it’s still a fun surprise!
In closing, it’s the same way with nudity. If I go to the strip club, I’m paying for the fireworks and Christmas music. But in public… on a Tuesday… in the rain – huzzah! At a concert… when changing into another shirt – huzzah! Or through my apartment window, into yours, across the alley. Your lights are on. Mine are off. Huzzah…
