I’ll Probably Be Elected President Soon

I was “tree number one” in a camp Fourth of July play in 1996. Ever since that momentous and life changing role, I’ve felt a duty to protect America and to celebrate her birthday with the utmost respect. Most years this involves eating irrational amount of hot dogs and googling “will this warm potato salad kill me?” But this year I decided to go all out and celebrate in Washington DC.

So I took the bus down there and met up with a few friends who live in the city. Although I requested several times that these friends take me to the same bar that Lincoln allegedly did body shots at moments after the Emancipation Proclamation, they instead took me to a ’90s rave party.

And while I have no doubts later presidents did body shots and bar top dancing there (I think we all know Teddy Roosevelt was a “loook at me, I’m dancing on the bar” kinda guy), I saw no evidence of a Stovepipe hat rack anywhere.

Instead it was a hot, sweaty, gyrating mess of people dancing. Not only was it a great throwback to my favorite music, but it also was a musically enlightening experience. You know, finally getting to listen to all the ’90s rap that was banned in my house. (Next up: watching Ren and Stimpy while eating sugary cereal.)

Then in the morning I went out to the suburbs ( a word I’ve learned to say very condescendingly…yay NYC living) to spend the rest of the weekend at my friend’s house. It involved a lot of laying by the pool, reapplying SPF 100, getting hit in the face with a basketball, meeting townies with tattoo sleeves and drinking. You know, all the things that the forefathers imagined we would be doing.

Everything was going well until it started raining outside and we were trapped inside with nothing to do but pretend we actually enjoyed playing card games and having conversation with each other. And unfortunately for the people around me, when I get bored, I get very creative…and very into c-list pranks.

So while some people played poker and talked about the modern welfare system, I drew all over my passed-out friend AND put leftover hot dogs in my¬† other friend’s condoms. You know, things that are hilarious at the moment and kind of embarrassing in the morning. There’s just something about drawing a penis on someone’s face that makes you feel young and innocent again.

And then before you could say, “is it unsafe to set off fireworks in your densely wooded backyard?” I was back on the bus home. Just another patriotic weekend.

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