I LUHUHUHUVE Yard Work.

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