Josh Learns the Secret to Peace

4th of July at the Moen Family Cabin has become somewhat of a tradition for me. (By tradition, I mean something I happened to do twice) And even though there were no fiery acts of death defiance that would inspire a popular line of t-shirts that I would ultimately only kinda' pay for, everyone had a perfectly lovely time. Which would make a shitty t-shirt.

However, this year, a new addition was the Moen Caste System.

Your placement was dependent on which Moen you were affiliated with.

There are three:

Katie - the sassy young go-getter. A modern day Mary Tyler Moore, if Mary Tyler Moore swore and every picture of her looked as if she were Asian and/or recently punched in the face.

Jim - the recent college grad, currently employed as a mini-Robert Langdon by a lonely, rich man in Edina who pays him to hunt treasure and dance.

Susie - the oft unseen, possibly rumored, third Moen. Unseen largely because she was in high school, and Katie was all "Oh, what the, hell no!" So, she was kept hidden, not unlike Blanket Jackon or a Sexy Bigfoot. Now, she's a college sophmore, so game on holmes!

(There were also parental Moen's, but they kept to the deck and the grill, and interaction was limited to calling people by the wrong name, and telling the exact same story several times in rapid succession)

The age breakdown was as follows: The Katie Group had all the 25+, The Jim Group 21-24, and the Susie group had the 18-20's.

The age gap may appear slight, but the differences were vast.

For instance, the Jim group brought various cheap beers and lots of 'em. Busch Light, PBR, something with an umlaut. Some in the Katie group brought travel Shiraz. And virtually all in the Susie group pretended that Mike's Hard Cranberry was a real drink, and they could play grown-up like the rest of us.

Location wise, the Katie group lounged on the deck, while the Jim group took over the land. Just to be different, the Susie group set up lawn chairs in the water, cause they had to be all all conceptual. Damn kids.

The Jim Group was the rowdy group. They would yell and push each other alot. They invented some sort of game where a can of beer would be placed between the feet of a participant. Across the circle of death, a challenger would throw a dart, the objective to hit either the beer can or not-skin. If the beer can was struck, the person would have to lift up the beer can and shot-gun the rest of that beer. And then it started all over. It was not clear if there were any winners or losers in this game.

Though only in their late-twenties, the Katie group quickly became the grumpy old voice of reason, yelling at the Jim group to slow down! Stop throwing darts at each other! Get off my porch! Ironically, just after we accepted the fact that the youth of America were destined to put each other's eyes out, the only injury stuck only a member of the Katie group. She fell down while walking. That's it.

While all this was going on, the Susie group was waving, trying to get our attention, maybe one of them got hurt too, who the hell knows -- I mean, it's the third kid, right? Who cares?

Despondent over the ability of Jim's group seemingly being able to have fun with a stick they found on the ground, the Katie group decided we'd take an adults only boat trip. Sounds sexy right? "Adults Only" indicates that there'll be boobs galore and unspeakable vulgarity. In truth, there was taxes, tips for back pain relief, and a debate over which local meteorologist was the least Child Molesty. (Oddly enough, Jonathan Yuhas)

Just when it seemed all hope was lost, and there would forever be division amongst all the sexy, young white people, a wonderful game designed to make you forget the fact that you're binge drinking paved the way to peace. That game? Flippy Cup.

(Yes, Flippy Cup. It's called Flippy cup. Not Tippy Cup. You're a damn fool if you say Tippy Cup. The objective is to flip the cup. If you tip it, you lose. Why would they name a game after something that only happens in defeat? Seriously. You got a lotta' growing up to do)

Members of all groups assembled on either side of the dock for the most unevenly matched tournament of Flippy Cup in existence. What followed was pure joy. Laughter. Singing. (Seriously. I think the Jim Group made-up some sorta' spiritual that would be sung upon the winning and/or losing of a round of Flippy Cup. I'm not sure if it was an existing song, or based off of a t-shirt). Instant camaraderie.

Flippy Cup had saved us all. We didn't even care that we were drinking from a plastic cup that was previously upside down atop the grimy deck, and in some cases, plucked out of the lake water. Though, that would explain my dysentery.

I think we all learned a valuable lesson here today kids. Binge drink. For yourselves. And America.

Then light things on fire.