Honoring Those that Fought for Our Freedom (Namely, Will Smith)

Happy Birthday, 'Murica!

I guess technically the nation's birthday would fall on the anniversary of the ratification of the Constitution, and not the signing of the Declaration of Independence.  And, of course, the Declaration wasn't even signed on the 4th of July - most of the cowardly Founding Fathers waited a month or so to sign it, as they were kinda fond of their necks at the time, and rightly so feared British reprisal.

But I degress.  We all know the real reason this day is celebrated:

Damn straight.

Here - check out what we did to celebrate our Independence over the British, the Aliens, and all other things un-'Murica:

We had decided previously to spend the holiday at the beach, and so in the morning we drove out to the Gulf coast, in the St. Pete's neck of the woods. . .

Setting up headquarters at Madiera Beach.  That's Mom off to the right, there - she's in town visiting (I'll post about that later.)

Say what you will about Florida, you sure as hell can't complain about its beaches.

This umbrella-thing would later on in the afternoon fill up with high schoolers, who listened to some really shitty music on their stereo, but were otherwise tolerable.

Abby demands Kris return to shore.

Abby fears waves like nobody's business.

Grandma and the Cannonball.

Tossing kids in waves (just mine, not other people's kids - pretty sure that's illegal.)

Alayna and I found some washed-up coral along the shore, so - of course - she had to pick it up and play with it.

Abby, in better spirits.

'Coffee' break.

Snack break.

Alayna, waiting patiently for her return to the sea.

Building sand castles (or something.)

Grandma - like me - isn't a big fan of going out deep with the girls.  Sharks down here have been known to swim up in a foot of water and bite swimmers on the leg.  Stupid nature.

Constructing one last series of sand castles before hitting the road back to Orlando.

I wanted to grill out when we got back home, seeing how it was the Fourth and everything.  As you can see here, these ladies love their picture being taken.

As in previous years, our neighborhood resembles a war zone the evening of the Fourth - dozens of houses let loose a barrage of bought-under-a-pavilion-in-a-grocery-store-parking-lot fireworks, to the tune of hundreds and hundreds of dollars.  Home explosives, evidently, are totally legal down here in America's Wang.  Not that we're complaining, mind you - every year we get treated to a fireworks show as good if not greater than the ones we had back home growing up, all from the comfort of our own driveway.

Trying out sparklers ('cause this is about as hardcore as our kids get.)

Grandma, having a blast.

Trying to hand Abby back her sparkler - the kid loses interest quickly.

Every year we buy an assortment of Morning Glories and other such low-grade, no-boom fireworks for the kids. . . and every year we light a handful before they don't want to do fireworks anymore.  Consequently, we're sitting on a stockpile of sparklers, morning glories, those snake/cat-poop looking things, poppers, and other such Diet Fireworks.

I'll spare you the ridiculous amount of fireworks pictures that I usually upload every year around this time - Kris has been making a point of it lately to reign in my over-zealous picture-taking.  Just like a woman. . .

Happy Birthday, 'Murica!

- Brian

End of the World, Beginning of Christmas Vacation

Well, we're all going to die.

Honestly, I figured the End of the World would happen at dawn - it seems poetic and more illustrious that way, right?  The human race - as well as the chipmunk race, the hammerhead shark race, and pine tree race, and all other living races out there - would rise in the morning one last time before having their collective asses handed to them by some warped interpretation of a pre-Columbian, Mesoamerican calendar.

Wackier things have happened, people.

Having traveled to several Mayan ruins sites personally, I can assure you that they - the Apocalypto people - were pretty 'with it' when it came to building.  The Mayans definitely knew their stuff.  They also knew how to gaze at the sky without looking like total idiots:  they could predict eclipses, measure time rather accurately, and even conjure up far-reaching cataclysmic events that scare the bejesus out of us in the present.

Such as this whole End of the World nonsense.  I'm not about to get all worked up about this ol' song-and-dance number again - we've gone through this before. (remember?)  You know, to tell you the truth, I didn't even want to dignify today's impending doom with a response. . . but as it's 4:30pm in the afternoon, and the world is still here (consequently, after I would've otherwise put in a full day of work - well played, Mayans), I feel compelled to inform all of the people out there that bought into this hooplah that they are idiots.

Seriously.

You know, I'd love to run into someone who actually believes the End of the World is happening at some point in time today.  Holy shit, that'd be great.  I'd have a whole list of questions for them, the foremost centering on whether or not can I have everything in their wallet.  Maybe their car, too.  I mean, hell - there really isn't any point in owning a car when asteroids are raining down like hail stones and the dead walk the earth.

Right?

Speaking of which, was there an official list of 'bad shit' scheduled for the End of the World?  I assume something astrologically-significant would play out for those doomsday enthusiasts.  God knows the Mayans were big fans of 'space.'  Giant meteor, alien invasion, something along those lines.

And if it were aliens, what are the chances they'd show up a day or two early and have to hover around our orbit and kill time in order to make their grand Dec. 21st entrance?

I mean, I assume aliens have their shit together, and would be scientifically advanced enough to not show up a day early (or late).  That'd sure make the Mayans look stupid, wouldn't it. . .

If I had to die by alien invasion, I'd prefer Death by Star Destroyer.

Anyway, Yours Truly took the day off work today.  Besides being the end of mankind as we know it, it is also happened to be the last day of school before CHRISTMAS VACATION (*queue fanfare*), as well as a huge blowout at my kids' school.  Both girls had class Christmas parties to attend, and got to wear pajamas to school to celebrate ('cause when you're a preschooler, that's just how you roll).


To top it all off, Santa Claus even showed up.  Yes, not even the End of the World could keep away the fat man in the red suit.  He fears nothing.

Nothing but fog.

So, in closing, here's a few pictures from the End of the World. . . which may or may not resemble the footage from 2012, the prophetic film illustrating how the Mayans predicted the Dec. 21st end of the world as we know it.

. . . or not.

Enjoy.

Abby shows off her Christmas 2010 photo album to the rest of her class during the Christmas party. . .

Chow time

Moments later, Santa would show up to her classroom, sparking off a frenzy of tantrums and shit-fits. . .

Meanwhile, in Alayna's class. . . 

Santa's entrance was met with a much warmer reception in the pre-school class. . . 

Captivated audience

(Santa's asks Kris nicely to stop farting)

Here's to the End of the World. . .

After we got back to the house, and saw that this giant, hunk of rock we call 'Earth' was still in one piece, I let the girls 'play' the PS2 in our bedroom ('play', of course, means arbitrarily mashing buttons on the controller)

They're pretty big fans of SSX  Tricky 2. . . some snowboarding game Kris used to be into back in college. . .

. . . as you can imagine, they were quite painful to watch.  It's going to be awhile before we introduce  the Mario and Zelda titles, methinks.

- Brian