Yard work 0412082009

So I decided that in the future I can not do yard work, It's absolutely dreadful... All I wanted to do was go somewhere, and the Nazi of my Movement decreed that I should do work before going anywhere, I raked out the leaves and was forced to mow the front lawn, I can't mow very well, in fact it's almost comical how garbage I am. my churchie neighbors hire Mexican workers to do there yard work, and so do my other neighbors that the IRS are looking for. Now when i came out in my royal blue puma shorts, and Morrissey shirt with a pair of dirty old vans I figured that no one was going to be worried for I had come to butcher my front yard. Wrong, the yard workers from both neighbors were working on the yards, with all of their fancy mowers, blowers and sheers. Me and my childish frail figure halls out a lawn mower that could engulf me. I look at them smile, pump the button on the side, and it takes me about five minutes to get the irritated piece of machinery working. They look at my and say something in Spanish, I start to mow dancing to my ipod which was playing Ok Go at the time, I probably looked ridiculous but at that time I don't think I really cared much. While the yard workers on both sides of me make these perfect little lawns, i continue to slaughter this piece of greenery in front of me, i then remembered you can't spell slaughter without laughter and I commenced to burst out in a frantic hysteria, and I ran into my weak little tree in the front. At this point I am certain the workers think I'm insane, I finish my job and go inside. I come back out to get the mail only to discover the yard workers had come and gone over my lawn because the site of my work must have made their stomachs turn, it is only so apparent that my irish side shows more than my Mexican half.
04/12/08 20:09