Thursday, January 04, 2007
What's In A Name?
I met the Pirate Captain last night for some adult beverages, and he reminded me that I haven't written a single word about the New Year's Eve party. So what makes you think I even remember that night, Captain?
Actually, I was pretty good as it regards alcohol. Where I got in trouble was with the fireworks. OK, OK, I know, they're illegal pretty much anyplace in the whole state of Arizona. But I bought 'em in New Mexico, where they don't really seem to give a shit. Pirate Captain came up with some kick-ass bottle rockets from someplace. At least we thought they were kick-ass, until my neighbors started shooting some stuff that made it look and sound like downtown Fallujah out there.
That said, Captain Rick's rockets were pretty potent little fellows. But here's a bit of advice on the topic of bottle rockets that apparently escaped the Captain that night:
There's no secret to the name.
They are called "bottle rockets" instead of "hand rockets" for a reason. There's a real good chance that if you simply light one off while holding it in your hand, then release it as it ignites, the initial lift may be insufficient to carry it skyward. In that event, it tends to fall to the ground, then fully ignite and haul ass along said ground in whatever direction chance carries it, scattering party guests, cocktails, food, and golden retrievers in all directions on its path until it crashes headlong into the host's home. This in turn causes the host's loving spouse to confiscate all your goodies in a manner that leaves no question whatsoever that there is to be no argument on the topic.
I'm just saying that could happen.
P.S. to the Captain: You'll get your rockets back if ever I am afforded the opportunity to see them again. They're with my Black Cats in an undisclosed location.
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Actually, I was pretty good as it regards alcohol. Where I got in trouble was with the fireworks. OK, OK, I know, they're illegal pretty much anyplace in the whole state of Arizona. But I bought 'em in New Mexico, where they don't really seem to give a shit. Pirate Captain came up with some kick-ass bottle rockets from someplace. At least we thought they were kick-ass, until my neighbors started shooting some stuff that made it look and sound like downtown Fallujah out there.
That said, Captain Rick's rockets were pretty potent little fellows. But here's a bit of advice on the topic of bottle rockets that apparently escaped the Captain that night:
There's no secret to the name.
They are called "bottle rockets" instead of "hand rockets" for a reason. There's a real good chance that if you simply light one off while holding it in your hand, then release it as it ignites, the initial lift may be insufficient to carry it skyward. In that event, it tends to fall to the ground, then fully ignite and haul ass along said ground in whatever direction chance carries it, scattering party guests, cocktails, food, and golden retrievers in all directions on its path until it crashes headlong into the host's home. This in turn causes the host's loving spouse to confiscate all your goodies in a manner that leaves no question whatsoever that there is to be no argument on the topic.
I'm just saying that could happen.
P.S. to the Captain: You'll get your rockets back if ever I am afforded the opportunity to see them again. They're with my Black Cats in an undisclosed location.
