bigpimpinmba's Diaryland Diary

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Yard Work is SOOOO Fun

Anyone who says that they really enjoy yardwork is either lying, psychotic or has such a miserable life that busting their ass in the yard is more fun than anything else they have going on.

That said, I kicked some major yard ass this weekend. Cut it, trimmed it, whacked it (weed-whacked it you perverts), weeded it, blew up parts of it and ripped shit out of it. Mr. Miyagi wouldn�t have even been able to come up with anything else for me to do.

Miyagi, �Chris-san, paint the fence�

Me-san, �Done that, bitch.�

Miyagi, �Chris-san, weed that grass.�

Me-san, �Done too.�

Miyagi, �Chris-san, wax that car.�

Me-san, �Hey, we�re talking about yard work here. If you are going to offer me a pimped out classic car and Elizabeth Shue with her little knee-highs, maybe I�ll consider it. Talk to me about ripping bushes out.�

Miyagi, �Chris-san, rip out bushes.�

Me-san, �You think I didn�t get to that? I did that one-legged bird kick and booted some bushes all the way to Camden. Now, go back to Al�s and tell the Fonz that my jukebox isn�t working.�

Miyagi, �Aye�

I hate doing this crap. I really do. But when I get off my ass and do some real work, even my wife is all sorts of impressed. Of course, she gets a big kick out of seeing me in my �Beer Me� T-Shirt, short-shorts (New Jersey Devils shorts, circa 1990, when I weighed slightly less than the Bigpimp that you behold in 2004) and Viagra racing hat (Bought for a Halloween party that we went as white trash to).

She especially got a kick out of when I finally was able to get one bush out of the ground after a bitter fight and I held it aloft while screaming, �FREEDOM!� My neighbors live in fear, especially after my insane dog yelling episode.

Also adding to my yard-work insanity is Miss Pitty Patt. "What the F is a Miss Pitty Patt?", you might ask. Miss Pitty Patt (or Pity for short) is a disturbed Jack Russell Terrier that lives behind us with her equally disturbed owners. She sits there and BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARKS (you get the point) the whole time I cut the back lawn.

I usually start off calmly, ignoring the Pattster. That wears off pretty quickly, though. I start by making a couple of remarks quietly to her�

�Pitty, aren�t you a little tired of barking yet?� and other such questions/ remarks.

Then, I can�t help getting a little louder, �WHAT�S UP PITSTER? YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?� which is often accompanied with me trying to fake the dog out by pretending to throw a ball. This only works once or twice, though.

It isn�t long before it turns into an all out, �PITTY.... FOR THE LOVE. OF GOD. WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP THE GODDAM HAMMERING!?!?�. She never seems to understand my obscure references to �A Christmas Carol� with Bill Murray.

And I wonder why my neighbors never like to make direct eye contact.

There are two things that I really hate about cutting the grass: Edging and Weed-Wacking. I don�t understand how these functions can�t be somehow incorporated into the lawnmower. We live in the year 2004. We were supposed to be riding around in flying cars and being transported with transponders and crap. You�re telling me that our civilization (If that�s what we want to call it) hasn�t found a way to cut out a lot of this mundane work that pisses me off.

Of course, I start envisioning how the lawnmower would have spikes or rotary saws coming out of the sides of it to take care of the Weed-Wacking and edging while I�m cutting my grass. Then, all of the sudden, a little bird runs by me saying, �Beep! Beep!� and I�m on the phone to ACME products, ordering all sorts of explosives.

A little voice in my head says, �BIGPIMPIN BURGER, SUPER GENIUS.� I�m going to get the business cards and everything.

Just wait until I invent my Road Warrior looking lawn mower. It will probably end up looking more like a backhoe, which will simply tear my lawn apart, so I won�t have to deal with it anymore. Of course, then the weeds will just fill in, pissing me off even more. Will the annoyance never end? On second thought, I think I�ll simply reserve myself to a life of annoying yardwork.

Feel free to stop by and lend a hand. Or better yet, bring lots of beer, so we can hang out at my bar, watch football and get wasted and I�ll just blow off the grass for another week.

10:22 a.m. - 2004-07-27

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