-The Simpsons

Nobody loves yard work. Well, nobody detests it more than me thanks to sneezing or that dizzy feeling thanks to allergies. It's gotten to the point that after 30 minutes, I've gotta call the whole thing off because, dammit, that grassy stuff is giving me a rash. The only rosey colors I allow on my body are rug burns from a good fucking or spankings.

Frankenstein: "Rug burns bad! Fire bad, too!"

So, that's what today was. No, there was no fucking but that shitty feeling from removing various things around the driveway that make us look like po' people. AKA: "white trash" I'm not sure why my parents just suddenly decide that putting off their work for so long means a sudden turn-around. If you've already forgotten, I did the whole damn yard earlier this year only to find they didn't spray for weeds.

Sad fact: My parents can be so lazy but never admit it. They'll ignore my bitching about it while planning out their TV schedule each night. Our newspaper's tube schedule will have all sorts of red circles and words such as "Tape!" all over.

And so the inevitable had to happen. While taking my little dog, Buffy, for a walk this afternoon, I had an acorn thrown at me. No joke. Squirrels threw several down at me while one came very close. Needless to say, Buffy wasn't the only one looking up at the dark eyed schmucks chittering at us. Of course, if you've forgotten the squirrel chant:

"Nuts! Nuts! Gots to get them nuts!"

I hate it when they do that. Our front yard has pieces of acorns all over the sidewalk leading to the door. You'll spend several steps crunching things no matter how many times you use a broom. It's a squirrel couple that spend their afternoons chasing each other and making love well into the night that do this. How? Let's just say it has 4 legs and the first letter to her name starts with a "B."

My walk with Buffy has been changed. Her endurance has been going up since she no longer needs a nap after each walk. Although I do miss her laying on her side while on my bed and snoring, it's time to get rid of the rest of that pudge or "pooch" on Buffy's belly.

I took my old paperboy route because I'm nostalgic like a mutha'. Of course, this is when the squirrels decided on their "Death To Hedgehoggy!" only 1/3 in. Once we were past all those furry middle fingers, those eerie memories came back:

1). Houses that were designed in a difficult manner for paperboys to throw the paper on the porch. A few were so nasty in that I had to bend low for a good shot.

2). The one where I did push-ups on the front porch because I was freezing from being caught in the rain. I was literally shaking and needed to do something to warm myself up. Push-ups! I'm not sure how weird it would be for that old couple to come out and see some guy counting out numbers and grunting but that was me.

3). Customers that were real assholes. There was an Indian couple that would not pay up. The bill was somewhere around $400! What really irked me was that I was told to continue delivering there. Fuckers pissed me off by pretending they weren't home. How'd I know? Rode my bike through their backyard and waved at them to piss them off.

4). The older couple whom I did push-ups on their front porch? It was the guy whom would tip me each time he saw me. Nice but $2 didn't do much for me. Still, it was nice and the guy appreciated how I got all the newspapers delivered by 3pm. I was fast and highly accurate with my arm on getting them on the porch.

Strange night in the gym. No gorgeous Italian girl (school) and no Slutwatcher. I felt like I was getting so used to his definite lust for her while she wore short shorts because the first 10 minutes in the gym were boring. Only til I got that pump going did I enjoy life with people that pick things up and put them down while looking like they have a shit bubble on lock. People think bodybuilders are freaks. That may be so but I'm so used to them and their weird habits.

To give you an idea on how different I am, my t-shirt contains Mr. Bubble. How many guys with giant arms are willing to wear that? How the hell can someone not tell me Mr. Bubble doesn't explode with testosterone?

'Jane' Magazine is pretty cool this month. Having Christina Aguilera on the cover made me need to hang out in Barnes N Noble's girly section. Having been here so often, I can talk make-up and tampons like you'd wish a boy to. Pearl Glides are the way to go, ladies, because they sop up that nasty mess with no applicator.

Ahem...........'Jane' has an interesting article on women involved with dumpster diving. Apparently, grocery stores throw out a lot of food that is still edible. I feel bad that I laughed at how there are women that show up at a certain time to chow down on waffles and take gallons of milk. What I think is that it all started with a rumor that a store threw out a huge supply of chocolate. Not that boring kind but Hersheys. Ever since then, these girls have been hoping for that type of gold find again.

But seriously, it is true that grocery stores throw out food that can still be eaten. You'll see reports on famine and drought that bring about world hunger. So, why do we just waste it? I'll admit that I have this weird habit that I have to finish my meal as best I can. I'd feel like I'm completely jaded by the fact that I can eat while others cannot. Am I the only one that sees things like this? I'm certainly not fat but why order things that you know you won't finish?

- - 2009-07-07

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