Like A Boss

Redneck Riviera

Nana brought out the platter of fried chicken and cheese biscuits and I just about jizzed in my pants at the sight. We had just come up from the lake, where we tore up the scene on jetskis until it was too dark to see. I threw my brother off of the two-seater four times but he just laughed and saddled back up because Parellas are CHAMPS. Then we rode around the neighborhood on a Kawasaki mule, redneck style with no shoes and criminal intentions. 

I like Georgia, I really do. I’ve already planned my wedding on Lake Lanier. After the vows and all that ceremony shit, I’ll tear off my dress to reveal a white sequined bikini (and a rockin bod, of course) and the dude will sport some black swim shorts. We’ll hop on a jetski and ride off into the sunset. BAD.ASS.NESS. 

I miss Boston, though. I miss my peeps and my freedom. I’m so excited to get back that I can barely sleep at night. Although there’s one thing that the dirty south has that Boston simply does not…and that’s the Redneck Riviera.

Picture this. My dad, a 6’2 nearly bald Italian man with some bootleg designer shades and board shorts, plopped in a kiddie pool, limbs outstretched, cooler within reach, drankin beers and listening to Jimmy Buffet. And this all goes down in our driveway, right there on the pavement. It’s the best scene in the world when you pull up to the garage after a day out and you’re four year old brother says, “Yep, dad’s in the riviera again.” My dads fucking awesome.

I fly back to Beantown tomorrow and I couldn’t be more excited. I invited all my friends over for a little pahhhty but really have no clue who will show up. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if only two people made an appearance. Because those two people are gonna have a GOOD ASS TIME. Guaranteed. Because I’m back from the dirty dirtyyy and I’ve got storiesss SON