Saturday, July 2, 2011

Mr. Inappropriate

Since we moved to Colorado, my dear husband has been able to live out one of his childhood dreams.  Something that he could never do when we lived in the strict confines of California law. 

Here, he can blow shit up on the 4th of July.  Fireworks are legal. 

Oh you know that sparklers aren't exciting enough, right?
In our county, pretty much anything that doesn't leave the ground in fair game....though you can tell that a lot of people around here prefer to do their firework shopping in the far-more-liberal-quite-possibly-only-in-this-department Wyoming. 

There, you can buy just about anything.  And it's only an hour away.

There are fireworks stands about 3 feet from the state line, and a huge warehouse store open year round just a few miles further.  They send out flyers starting in May to all the pyromaniacs down South, including my husband.   He oooohs and aaaaahs over the brochure, shows it off to the neighbors, hides it from the kids. 

There is a reason they send these flyers to men.  Essentially, it's firework porn.

I don't let him drive to Wyoming, for the record. 

He's stuck here, buying the things boring and legal, though not really safe by any stretch of the imagination.

He can still light stuff on fire.  He can harness the power of the universe and make things explode from the comfort of his back patio. 

And, I kid you not, this was actually on his list of reasons to move here.

The first year we were here, he was so giddy with anticipation that he went to the first roadside stand he saw.  The explosive virgin, he was.  Nothing was nearly as exciting as he thought it would be, and the whole experience left him disappointed.

He vowed to do better the next year.

He came home with a ton of fireworks.  He had to put a post in the ground for the spinners, and we now have a board specifically to be used as his display platform.  We were required to oooh and aaah.  He told me that he was saving a special one for last, his finale. 

Then he giggled.

I asked him what was funny.  He showed me the canister. 

Yeah, you read that right.

And if you don't know what a golden shower is, I don't really want to tell you.  And....well, google it.  Just be warned that you might pull up some fringe porn websites. 

Clearly the people who market these incendiary devices know their target audience well. 

Guys with inappropriate senses of humor who like to light things on fire.

He actually asked me to wait to write this post.  He had a plan.  He wanted to be able to post the picture on his Facebook page first. 

He wanted to ask the question that all inquiring minds want an answer to.

Who wants to see a golden shower??? 

1 comment:

  1. That's hilarious! I'm immensely amused. But then, I am a bit of a pyromaniac myself, and my sense of humor is fairly sophomoric. Your husband sounds like a really funny guy.

    Our part of Kentucky allows most varieties of fireworks, and there have been commercials on the radio for weeks now about Roman candles, sky lanterns, and comets... But the best stores near us are in Ohio and Indiana (we live right near the junction of the three states). Josh took off early this morning to run the tri-state lap to get the best fireworks from three states. We'll see how he does.

    And I had to come back and edit this comment just because I found this amusing: my word verification code for this comment was "hersac." See? Sophomoric.


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