Oh, just a photo of Joanna Krupa in an American flag bathing suit carrying an American flag...
The Dipsomaniac tells you a little about her Independence Day.
I had every intention of having a rowdy Fourth of July. I had big plans involving the three B’s (booze, boats and bros)—all while wearing an American Flag bikini, naturally—and then of regaling you with tales of star spangled shots of liberty liquor and glittering goblets of founding father Franzia. Hell, I was even stoked about some Bunker Hill beer bonging—British victory be damned.
But alas, it was not to be. Because I, my friends, am a Fourth of Ju-liability.
Yes, when it comes to the Fourth, I’m a total burden. A downer. Un-fun. Sad, but true. In fact, next to the Lil Wayne concert a few summers ago (Kate, again…my bad), this is perhaps historically when I’ve been most off my drinking game.
Now New Years, I can do. You only have to be able to count backwards from ten, you get to wear sparkly shit and you just have to make it to midnight before you can pass out with dignity. I’m also great at Easter. I can pound brunch-time mimosas like a champ between trips to the buffet, plus the parental presence is always enough to keep me in check. And if I get a little too rowdy? Well then I can just chalk it up to candy I ate at 9 a.m. “It’s a sugar high mom—Goddd, you try walking a straight line after 12 pounds of jelly beans and 18 Cadbury Crème Eggs.” And let’s be real, I could do Arbor Day in a classy manner all day, err day. But for some reason, Independence Day is a different story. And I can’t handle it.
MAYBE IT’S THE HOURS…
Fourth of July is, by definition, an all-day holiday. Not only does that coincide with all-day fun in the sun, all-day in the pool/lake and all-day barbecuing, but it also coincides with all-day drinking. This is one day a year when cracking open a beer at noon—or, you know, 10 a.m.—isn’t alcoholism; it’s PATRIOTISM. And though I usually eat cereal, if someone offers me a Budweiser breakfast, who am I to say no? Better yet, combine them both for the meal of champions—Beerios! Unfortunately, when you start drinking in the morning instead of night, instead of peaking at 2 a.m., you peak at 2 p.m. Andddd…you’re done.
MAYBE IT’S THE DRINKING GAMES…
Who hasn’t played the game where you drink for every star on the flag or amendment in the Constitution? Yeah, me neither. But I’m like reallllllly bad at beer pong. And while everyone else thinks they’re personally representing the USA beerlympic-style come the fourth and sink every shot, I’m the one air-balling and then sitting in the corner surrounded by 20 cups that now comprise my to-do list. Again…at noon.
MAYBE IT’S THE PEER PRESSURE…
“Take this shot—FOR AMERICA!” Yeah, you can’t say no to that shit. And guess what—when you can’t say no to it…10 times in a row (which I can’t because I’m AMERICAN, damnit)…4th of July is approximately a half-hour holiday.
OR MAYYYYYBE IT’S ME…
I’m a sucker for sun, swimming and shot-gunning. And really, that defines this glorious day. But what do I not possess? The other S: Stamina. And that’s why I spared the world my short-lived but hassle-full presence and instead lived the dream, sitting soberly (and quite content) in the pool at home.
Now I wish I could lie to you and tell you about all my crazy Independence Day antics—really, I do. But lying is soooo un-American. And besides, I plan on making up for lost time downtown tonight. Liquor pitchers for Lincoln, anyone?