Wednesday, August 20, 2008

But I *really* have to go

For some reason, when I was house hunting in 2000, I wanted a house on a mature lot. I wanted trees, with shade and something that looked established. The idea of a new home in one of those subdivisions where the saplings are still begin supported by posts really annoyed me. Those homes seemed so, like – I dunno – out in the open.

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I bought a home with three GI-fucking-NORMOUS trees that freak me the fuck out during every Spring Midwestern wind storm … and that dump about 3 million tons of leaves all over my property, including on my roof in the Fall. Furthermore, it takes two hours to mow the bitch, front and back, with a self-propelled lawn mower. Don’t ask me – I have no idea why I did this.

So, I found this retired old man who makes a living from mowing lawns and keeping shrubbery sort of under control. He comes over often to maintain – although not nearly as often as I should ask him to – ask my neighbors who likely curse me for not mowing on a regular basis. They’re meticulous with the lawn and mine gets to about 8 inches before I ask old man to mow it.

Anyway, so I have this line of pine trees along the back of the property, separating me and the backyards of the neighbors on the next street. Anyway, underneath these pine trees is the best kept patch of weeds in this hemisphere. I mean, some of them are as tall as me. So, I asked old man to clear it out. I just don’t have the time, so whatever, I’ll help him pay his alimony to his ex-wife.

I came back home last week from one business trip or another and realized that he did half the work two weeks before when I was last home and never came back. There’re tree limbs and crap all over the lawn back there. So, I called him to make sure he was ok. I mean – he NEVER does half a job. Well, apparently, he’s fine … now. He left because I’ve got poison oak back there and he broke out.

I totally felt bad. I mean – I had no idea. Apparently, he came back to spray the bitches and then will return when it’s all dead to clear it out. But here’s the reason for this post: he told me he broke out pretty bad and even had it on his balls.

Someone please explain to me how a grown ass man gets up and leaves the premises because he realizes he’s breaking out from this poison oak … and he take a goddam piss before washing his hands! That shit makes no sense to me – I know that poison oak didn’t crawl up his shorts because the mother fucker doesn’t wear shorts, and poison oak isn’t that plant from Little Shop of Horrors. You can’t exactly sit there and WATCH it grow. So, the only explanation I have is that his bare hands touched his bare balls – and I refuse to consider that he was frolicking alone in the poison oak.

My mother-in-law said it best: stupid, dumb-ass rednecks. smh


The Jaded NYer said...

dude, I'm sorry- he was *totally* frolicking in the buff in your yard!

JACK said...

omg, the visual! Can't. Bear. It.

*dead cats, dead cats, dead cats, dead, cats ......*

Super Dave Van Buren said...

maybe he has a bladder problem and couldn't wait till he got in the house. either that or he had to scratch his balls on the way back into the house.

JACK said...

I still can't imagine touchin my nuts knowing I was breaking out against poison oak.

One Man’s Opinion said...

You wrong for that. The man keeps your lawn kept and you frown on him for getting poison oak on his balls. You know washing your hands want stop the stuff from spreading, right. Besides, maybe one of his balls needed to be scratched and he forgot.

Anyway, this blog was funny and wrong, all in one setting. That is a sign of a good posting. Peace.

JACK said...

one man - I specialize in "being wrong for that." It's what makes my blog special.