Ah, July 4th—a holiday created so that Americans can fondly remember the time they threw off the yoke of tyranny and oppression so they could do whatever the fuck they wanted including ditching British accents, eating hot dogs, and electing a president not at all qualified to do his job.
The Fourth of July is like the unsung hero of drinking holidays in that it comes along in the dead of summer, when the weather is beautiful but I'm still trapped indoors at my 9-to-5 and need to be reminded of my will to live.
Ah, July 4th: a time in America where our differences are put aside (until we get belligerently drunk) so we can chug beer, wear really questionable American flag attire, listen to Kid Rock, and set things on fire/explode anything in sight as a show of respect for our founding fathers.
The Fourth of July might be one of the best weekends of your summer, and even if it’s not, you looked good and blacked out by 2pm, so you deserve some recognition.
It’s officially summer in NYC and I know this not because I’ve been outside doing things in this beautiful weather but because I’ve been living vicariously through people and their rooftop Snapchats while I continue to binge watch Schitt’s Creek.
I’ve never been an “America, fuck yeah” type of person, but if there’s an unhealthy amount of Bud Light, fireworks, and drunken swimming involved, fuck yeah, you can count me in.
