Last night Doug and I were supposed to go to a concert in Gowanus. Tuscadero was performing. They're this amazing 90s pop/punk girl band from D.C., and this was going to be the second time they've performed since they broke up eleven years ago. As you've probably guessed, we didn't make the show. Our train from Amherst didn't get in until 7, and considering that the band went on around 10, buying the tickets in the first place was stupidly ambitious of us. Instead, we went home, ate frozen macaroni, and watched The Bachelorette (yes, Doug gets rewarded for sitting through this with me.)
Tally for our weekend:
4th of July Parties Attended: 1
Drinks Consumed: Many
Grilled Things Eaten: 2
Pellet Guns Shot: 1
Targets Hit: None
Games of Badminton Played: 1
Fireworks Seen: None (Unless I count the ones we saw a family setting off when we took a walk around the neighborhood. I think they were supposed to go up in the air, but as soon as they were lit they fell over and started spewing sparks into the driveway.)
Bug Bites Gotten: 10,000,000
Bruce Springsteen Songs Heard: 100 (Estimate)
Even though I didn't see any "real" fireworks, I think I celebrated the birth of our nation in a way that would make our founding fathers proud; Guns, Booze, and Bruce.
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