Saturday, May 20, 2006
In Which Zombie Has Many Funs
I managed to almost finish mowing the lawn today. I have this little bit next to the neighbors' driveway that needs done, but the neighbors had to inconvenience me by being out in said driveway, working on a truck, and while I personally wouldn't have minded mowing along anyway and spraying them with wet grass clippings, I thought they might not be happy about it.
Also, it gave me an excuse to stop mowing. Because the mowing? Don't really like it. Especially since the mower stalls every five feet and there's something resembling an archaeological dig in the middle of my front yard and it's flippin' hard to mow around it.
You know what I needs me?
I needs me a gardener.
Preferably one named Francisco or Armando or Somethingo that also happens to be shirtless.
Yeah. That's what I need.
I could lounge on my front stoop with a cocktail, wearing a headscarf like Jackie O and fantastic sunglasses and shiny sandals and be all like, "You missed a spot, fuckwit. What do you think I am paying you less than minimum wage for? Hmmm? I expect perfection. Perfection."
Hunter suggests a limbless gardener instead of a shirtless gardener, and now I am entertaining the idea of a gardener that is both shirtless AND limbless, but while that would be hot, I do not see how he can do the weedwhacking without any arms. And really, I must be practical about hiring my imaginary gardener, mustn't I? While it would be nice and easy to succumb to such flights of fancy as limbless gardeners, I really need one that can do the weedwhacking.
See, what it is - it's that I need a man to do stuff for me. Since I lack a penis, I cannot do technical work, and also apparently cannot do yardwork, either.
Yesterday as I was fighting with the Mower What Stalls, a dude from across the street shouts at me.
"Er...yes?" I do not like being referred to as "Miss" so I was immediately Not In the Mood. It is like when I buy a case of beer at the 7-11 and the teenaged cashier calls me "ma'am" and doesn't card me. It makes me feel old and bitter.
Well, I'm always bitter, so I guess we should just leave it at "old."
Anyway. Dude comes across the street. "Are you having trouble?"
"Uhm, I'm fine. The grass, it is long. The mower, it is stupid. You know."
"Well, honey, where is your husband? He should be doin' this work, not you."
I push my sunglasses up onto the top of my head and regard this man, who is overweight and sweaty and reeking of white trash and still has the balls to give me the Hey-There-Little-Lady treatment.
"My...husband?" I arch a brow.
"Yes, well, I seen yer kids runnin' around, so I assumed..."
"Ah. I do not have a husband. And the grass won't mow itself. I think I can handle it. But thank you for your condescen--- er, concern." I smile sweetly and pull my sunglasses back down.
For real, y'all, I am getting t-i-r-e-d of the Hey-There-Little-Lady treatment.
Anyway, so I mowed and cleaned the kitchen partly and visited with a friend who cannot stop bringing my children presents (though today he brought me a mouse puppet - it is very cute) and that was the extent of my day. The weather remained lovely throughout which is cheerful-making, especially what with the week and a half straight rainstorm.
I think we can add Very Boring to the list of things that I am. So now we have Very Boring, Very Graceful and Quite Possibly Retarded.
Christ, I am awesome.
link | posted by Zombie at 7:20 PM |
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