Ready for a Scott lengthed Post?

Great. Alright then... Call me Scottmael. Many days ago, having little or no money in my pocket and very few singe marks on my clothing, I set out to have a fourth of July celebration. All the while neglecting to study for my finals. Despite the perils of being burned alive, and/or failing out of collge, I felt I had to try. And try I did.

I loaded up my vehicle, and with a bad case of "stoned-camera-face" managed to set out into the night. As a side note, how exactly I managed to get in this picture when I'm clearly behind the camera is beyond modern science. Beyond even post-modern science as well, and that's quite a thing.

Anyway, stoned-face driving is hard and hungry work. So shortly thereafter, I decided it was time for some healthy nourishment. When we gave up on that we went to Steak 'N Shake, where I am apparently 6'1. My height varies greatly depending on which convience store I'm at. At Amoco I'm 5'10, at Shell 5'11, and at Steak 'N Shake 6'1. I like to go to all of them in a day and pretend I'm on growth hormones.

It's like the last supper, just with more women, and no one is going to die later. (SPOILER!) But if they did die, they pretty definately wouldn't be back three days later. Oh, and for the hell of it, here's a picture of Henry's chest.

After all the sammiches, shakes, and boobs, it was time to hit the dangerous and winding road once again. Our goal: illegal Missouri fireworks. We got across the border vith our forged papers. Then stealthily and tactfully infiltrated the explosives facility, as you can see below.

If you look close you can see my badass burn from the pipes on my 'hog. I tend to forget which things are hot. Burns like that are good reminders. They're also good for making me just that much tanner. As you can see, they do nothing to affect my maturity level, which is pretty much maxed out as high as it can go. Anyway, fireworks in trunk I sweat bullets as I had to make it through customs with my smuggled cargo. Fortunately all went well. And the very next night we went to see the fireworks in St. Louis.

Sadly, we got there pretty late, and all the best spots for watching them were taken. Moments like this are when my intrepid-ity comes into play. I started scouting around and found a primo location that was completely unoccupied... It was a vendor tent. Apparently the vendor just cleared out. And so, I took it over. Take a look:

We're right between the Arch and the Capitol Building in the middle of Market Street. Perfect location. Perfect view of the fireworks. As you can see I later invaded the neighboring merchant's tent and stole a couple of chairs. Also, a few people followed my lead and popped a squat next to us. I look down on that, because while we're squatters, we're really original squatters. They're poseur squatters, and that's just sad. Despite them, it was a great spot. Check out the view:

Money? Yes I think so. And so patriotic, it makes me wanna enlist. However until we attack a country that makes a good backdrop for my memoirs I think I'll pass. That arching dark thing in the silhouetted in the background is the Arch, Gateway to the West and everpresent challenge to those who have suction cup suits. (I love that guy).

Finally, we had our own celebration in which I used those fireworks I bought in the 4th picture. It was pretty good in spite nearly sending a mortar shell into the master bedroom of a house across the lake... or maybe because of it. I also put the girls to good work and had them go sparkler crazy while I took long-exposure time pictures. The effect is pretty good, but next year? I'm lining up four people and we're spelling four letter words.

- Scott