Well if this wasnâ€™t the easiest edition to come up with. Itâ€™s the Fourth of July! Hang up your flag, fire up the grill and have a chill holiday celebrating the birth of our nation.
In true patriotic style, todayâ€™s winecones are thrown in true classic American style. Baseball, PB&J sandwiches, apple pie, red, white and blue Jello (with whipped cream) and hours spent in the pool to ward off 100-degree heat. (What â€“ isnâ€™t that how you do it?)
My parents also have an outdoor grill and firepit in their back yard. You may think this is a recipe for a tradition beer and burgers bash. But no. My family is different. Case in point:
Me: Hey! You have a firepit! (They changed things up to make everything cooler after I moved out.) Awesome! Can we make sâ€™mores tonight?
Parents: Why would you want to do that?
Me: Umâ€¦ why WOULDNâ€™T you? Graham crackers, chocolate, peanut butter and charred marshmallows! (I may have begun drooling at this point.)
Parents: You donâ€™t need that kind of crap. Neither do the muppets.
Me: Need â€“ no. Want â€“ WANT!
Parents: Besides, your dadâ€™s grilling zucchini from our garden.
Itâ€™s like they donâ€™t even know me.
So sorry for the delay in todayâ€™s wineconing. Iâ€™ve been out in the pool fantasizing about the sâ€™more potential at that firepit (and how I can discretely dispose of the foul foul vegetable threatening my dinner.)
Tom and Katie are getting divorced. Anderson Cooper is gay. And that Call Me Maybe song wonâ€™t stop playing on the radio. My parents now own iPhones and my dad is on Facebook. THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END!
I have a giant hematoma on my leg and it hurts to walk. My chest is developing a huge bruise from the elbow shot I took. And once again knee vs shinâ€¦ knee wins EVERY time. I always get hit under my shin guard. Stupid things are useless. And don’t wanna wear pants; but that would require shavingâ€¦which hurts since my leg is killing (speaking of whining and not handling pain).
Editorâ€™s note: You wear shingaurds in baseball? Haha. I kid â€“ American Pastime and all. You know what helps with pain? Wine. Because you already appear to have severely coned yourself. And also, itâ€™s a holiday. So I declare today pants free. Winecone the pain; drink the wine.
I’m normally calm and rational. (Well, mostly.) Pepco makes me stabby.
Editorâ€™s note: Those were some storms. And of course itâ€™s a million and seven degrees in all those locals without power. Iâ€™m so pleased Pepco is bragging about early restoration â€“ since the above wineconer is still without power. Welcome to hell. Iâ€™ve got frozen winecones for you to fire.
The 4th of July is known as Independence Day. Iâ€™d be willing to bet that our Founding Fathers would flip a lid at how many people in the U.S. of A. are actually dependent on the government.
Editorâ€™s note: No, this isnâ€™t a typo. This wineconing editorâ€™s note was deliberately placed in the smackaroo section. A smackaroo to all the men and women, here and there, past and present, who have fought for our freedoms to bitch about what weâ€™re owed and debate what rights we have to demand dependence. Because 234 years ago, a motley militia picked up winecones they had lying around the house and said, â€œFine. I will do this MYSELF.â€
Also a smackaroo to my parents. Hereâ€™s to 34 wacky years of appreciating the irony of joining together on a day of independence.
To everyone on this holiday â€“ I raise my glass of wine to you. Enjoy yourselves â€“ safe and sane please.
â€˜Till next week, winecones and kisses!
PS. This your first wineconing? Welcome. Grab a glass and click here for an explanation of what in name of Jeebusâ€™ weâ€™re talking about.