Saturday at lunch Ty informed the family that he has an invisible tail.
Ya wanna see?
Well, I will try to see it. It is invisible after all.
He wags his bum at me and says, see it?
Uh, well….
It has very small feathers on it that you need a microscope to see.
It does?
Mommy? When something is invisible can you still touch it and feel it?
I think so. But I don’t really know for sure.
Well, then my tail is also intangible.
Of course it is.
If anyone out there needs information from me and they find me to be, oh lets say, resistant, the simple solution is to park me in front of a slow computer and make me try to compose blog posts on it.
It won’t be long until I am begging for them make it stop. I’ll tell you ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW, I would whimper. Just give me a few more gigabytes, a faster processor, an a truck load of RAM. Just don’t make me restart one more time or wait 5 freaking minutes for my internet browser to load.
I am pretty sure that I would rather be waterboarded than use a slow computer.
Pretty sure.
I worried that I have completely emasculated my husband. True, he’s a TAD bit hen-pecked. But I may have gone too far this time. So, a while back I read that running a gas lawn mower for one hour has the equivalent impact on the environment as 40 cars idling in traffic for the same amount of time. Well, being from the Northwest where being green is a requirement for citizenship, this freaked me out. So, when we were in the market for a new lawn mower, I made the unilateral decision that we would get an electric mower. I remember standing in Home Depot and Dave had this sort of defeated look on his face. The look said, “Is this the battle I want to fight, because I have to pick them carefully….” to which I responded with this look, “40 cars, Dave, 40 freaking cars….” and we went home with the electric mower.
But the sad truth is we both hate the lawn mower. I hate it because I miss that loud, growling noise each time the lawn is mowed. I mean, the sound of a running lawn mower screams, “SUMMER” and is just so “cool.” It’s like the yard work equivalent of a Harley Davidson. You know what I mean. But, frankly, our electric lawn mower sounds like a sewing machine. And I hate to sew. I think Dave hates it for mostly the same reasons — but he would define it thus: It’s a wimpy lawn mower. Don’t get me wrong, it works and gets the job done (when it actually gets used…more on that it a sec.) but it screams “Girlie-Man” like nobody’s business. It doesn’t help that you have to trail a cord behind you as you mow – or that one of the wheels always falls off.
What have I done?
So, because we have the world’s stupidest lawn mower, our lawn is almost never mowed. Which is another reason why I hate this mower.
Here you can see that the indentities of the innocent are being protected. No one wants to be associated with this yard.
This is the situation that has developed in our yard. In our own defense, we are not big yard work people to begin with, but our yard was designed by the world famous Jamie Durie – who, I might add, is anything but a girlie man. But you would never know that our lawn was professionally landscaped — all due to our lawnmower. I think it is my fault. Well, mine and the environment’s.
On our recent vacation to Whidbey Island, I found these little quiz books at the local “everything” shop.
Whatever…
But then a few zingers found their way into the game, for example:
#26 Which one of your women friends does he find the most attractive?
Let’s just say I got that one right. Not because he admitted it, but because he turned bright red and opened a beer.
#89 Is there anything you (he) can do that SHE can’t?
No. I can even pee standing up, if required. Oh, wait, he can swim the butterfly. Take it from me, my butterfly is pretty darn ugly. I also cannot do calculus.
#43 What would she say about the idea of a strip club a mile from your home? A.) “Where do I sign to protest?” B.) “Makes no difference to me!” C.) “Great!” or D.) “Hmmm, Wonder if they are hiring?” Well, since the high school I used to work at is RIGHT NEXT to a strip club (I kid you not), I am gonna go with C. Okay, just kidding.
Of course, now when some creep out ther googles “strip club” my blog will come up. Lovely.
So, if you are bored this summer and looking to torture your husband, pick these little gems up. Or better yet, give them as wedding gifts. The groom will thank you, I am sure.
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