Monday, July 21

You just proved ads work!

No, Mr. Sign. No, I did not just prove that advertisements work. Just because I glanced over to the side of the road and saw your big, obnoxious face leering at me does not mean that I proved anything. I didn't feel obligated to call your little 1-800 number. All I feel obligated to do is kick your in your stupid, plastic bench face.

And further more, I resent the fact that you assume that I proved that roadside advertisements like yourself work. You're only successful if you get someone to act on the advertisement, such as buying the product or calling the number. I have never called your slimy number nor do I plan to do so in the future. Therefore, it is presumptuous to say that signs work when, in fact, you do not know for certain that the sign had its intended effect.

So, please Mr. Sign. Take your lying and accusations away from here.

Sunday, July 6

Ragamuffin Grass

Grass is not your friend. I enjoy the new neighborhood I live in. I enjoy feeling safe and secure in my home. I enjoy the quiet and friendly neighbors. All in all, it is a good thing.

However, living in an actual house comes with the unhappy task of yard-tending. Mowing the yard isn't horrible. In fact, it can often be enjoyable depending on the time of day and the amount of humidity in the air. It's nice to work out in the yard when you want to work out in the yard.

In a neighborhood where yards border one another and share grass for the most part, when one neighbor mows their yard, the other neighbors must follow suit. On our street, most of the neighbors mow their yard in a two day period.

We rarely mow our yard in the two days that are allotted to us by the unwritten rules of neighborhood living. Thus, our yard is left looking unruly and rambunctious compared to the other yards. Our grass shoots up a few inches over all the other grass. In short, our grass is ragamuffin grass.

However, I have come to the conclusion that our grass is not ragamuffin grass. It's perfectly normal grass. We've just moved into a neighborhood of freakin' overachievers. I wonder if all neighborhoods are like this. Full of overachievers who take pleasure in a well-manicured lawn so that they may spend the rest of their time discussing the wild yard at the end of the block.

Gosh darn overachievers. They freakin' ruin it for everyone.