The Fourth in a Nutshell:

The boys washed my car.  Or at least got The Boy REALLY wet. (There were actual water spots on my car, so something got accomplished.)

We braved the Stars game, along with most of Huntsville and half of Athens.  Which is where most of my post will be rooted.

First, I’ve decided that I am going to make a t-shirt (and probably one for the Coven as well) that reads: “Ettiquette Police”.  It will be bright and authoritative, and I will walk around these major events and school people on what they’re doing wrong.  For instance.. yes, I took photographic evidence..

This child sat on the stairs the entire game.  Sometimes, he had a friend sit next to him.  Now, I don’t do well on stairs to begin with (95% of my injuries involve me losing my balance on stairs), but when I’m pregnant and traversing an assload of stairs.. I need you to move your fat adolescent ass into a bleacher. (And there was plenty of room next to his parents on the bleacher.) I would’ve gone down there and yelled at the parents, not him, for raising a moron.

Then, we took a sideways “took it ourselves” family pic:

And I was DISGUSTED at the size of my breasts.  I have been putting off buying a bigger bra (it’s just some mental block I won’t venture into), but that convinced me.  Look closely: my breasts cast a shadow on themselves.

Oooh, and there was a guy here that you can kinda see:

See the red cap behind us?  He needed to feel accomplished, so he decided to try and lead the entire crowd of Joe Davis in the wave.  From his seat.  Just by yelling.  REALLY loudly.  And not even yelling, “We gonna do the wave!” as is commonly excepted as the opening call.  No, he just yelled (somewhere around 18 times) at the top of his lungs, “ONE!  TWO!  THREE!”  I hated him.

All in all, we had a fine time, saw some great fireworks, and smelled pretzels.  Which was good enough for me.