A few years ago my husband and I hired a local fella to mow our yard once a week. Our yard is not large, nor is it particularly difficult to maintain. We are just that lazy. Our trusty lawn guy did a good job, and over time he expanded his business. He now has his own bonafide landscaper's truck and a crew consisting of several young Hispanic gentlemen who don't speak much English. I suspect they are illegal residents, though I don't know for sure since I never asked to see their work credentials; they are just mowing my yard, for God's sake. Also, I am not a gigantic tool.
This past Saturday the whole gang arrived to tend our yard. I toyed with the idea of going outside to habla with them for a couple minutes and exercise what few Spanish skills I have, but since the extent of my bilingual vocabulary is the equivalent of please, thank you, and rubber band I figured they'd tire of the conversation pretty quickly. Besides, going outside would have required me to get off the sofa and thrust myself into crippling heat, prompting a whole new session of complaining from me. And nobody wants that, because I can complain like it's my job.
So there I sat in my jammies in air-conditioned comfort, remote control in one hand and corn chip in the other, while those poor bastards worked in the July sun doing a job that I was too lazy to do. But as I was flipping through the television channels I had an epiphany. There was a segment on the news regarding dirty illegal aliens and how they're taking all the good jobs away from hard-working Americans who now are reduced to sitting around eating dirt and drinking swampwater because they can't find work anywhere. Amen! If I had a nickel for every time my friends and I had discussed our burning desire to trim hedges for a living I'd have... uh, I'd have... OH, THAT IS NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.
Suddenly enlightened, I crammed a handful of corn chips in my mouth and glared out the window at the Mexican menace in my yard. Oh sure, they looked harmless as they happily worked around the lawn, but I knew better. Under that cheerful, hardworking demeanor lurked diabolical minds full of insidious plans to destroy America, one weedwhacker at a time.
I thought about what my plan of action would be, because I love America and there's no way I'm going to allow it to be corrupted by people hell-bent on grooming my lawn for an affordable price. Perhaps I should go outside and give them what-for, letting them know in no uncertain terms that I would not stand for their shenanigans. If there had been a way for me to express my fury in terms of rubber bands, those guys would have gotten an earful. Oh, they might argue that they were merely performing a service and if I felt that strongly about it I could do it my own damn self, and that would appear to be a valid point, but... OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW EITHER.
As it is, I suppose I will have to maintain a watchful eye on whom I allow to cull weeds from my yard. It's obvious that some people are only out to hose us citizens and cannot be trusted. I must develop a means by which to protect the good people of America from those who want to sully its good name by providing excellent lawn care services. But if that plan involves me performing any manual labor or leaving climate-controlled comfort, that shit ain't gonna fly. Nothing is going to keep Mama from her Saturday morning cartoons, cool air, and snack foods.
This past Saturday the whole gang arrived to tend our yard. I toyed with the idea of going outside to habla with them for a couple minutes and exercise what few Spanish skills I have, but since the extent of my bilingual vocabulary is the equivalent of please, thank you, and rubber band I figured they'd tire of the conversation pretty quickly. Besides, going outside would have required me to get off the sofa and thrust myself into crippling heat, prompting a whole new session of complaining from me. And nobody wants that, because I can complain like it's my job.
So there I sat in my jammies in air-conditioned comfort, remote control in one hand and corn chip in the other, while those poor bastards worked in the July sun doing a job that I was too lazy to do. But as I was flipping through the television channels I had an epiphany. There was a segment on the news regarding dirty illegal aliens and how they're taking all the good jobs away from hard-working Americans who now are reduced to sitting around eating dirt and drinking swampwater because they can't find work anywhere. Amen! If I had a nickel for every time my friends and I had discussed our burning desire to trim hedges for a living I'd have... uh, I'd have... OH, THAT IS NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.
Suddenly enlightened, I crammed a handful of corn chips in my mouth and glared out the window at the Mexican menace in my yard. Oh sure, they looked harmless as they happily worked around the lawn, but I knew better. Under that cheerful, hardworking demeanor lurked diabolical minds full of insidious plans to destroy America, one weedwhacker at a time.
I thought about what my plan of action would be, because I love America and there's no way I'm going to allow it to be corrupted by people hell-bent on grooming my lawn for an affordable price. Perhaps I should go outside and give them what-for, letting them know in no uncertain terms that I would not stand for their shenanigans. If there had been a way for me to express my fury in terms of rubber bands, those guys would have gotten an earful. Oh, they might argue that they were merely performing a service and if I felt that strongly about it I could do it my own damn self, and that would appear to be a valid point, but... OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW EITHER.
As it is, I suppose I will have to maintain a watchful eye on whom I allow to cull weeds from my yard. It's obvious that some people are only out to hose us citizens and cannot be trusted. I must develop a means by which to protect the good people of America from those who want to sully its good name by providing excellent lawn care services. But if that plan involves me performing any manual labor or leaving climate-controlled comfort, that shit ain't gonna fly. Nothing is going to keep Mama from her Saturday morning cartoons, cool air, and snack foods.
5 Comments:
lmao! how long did it take you to get your tongue detached from the inside of your cheek after this post?
love it!
I only allow Swedes and Laplanders to cut my grass. Fully documented, of course.
A swede wouldn't last 2 minutes outside tonight.
Excuse me, think you're all forgetting something very important here. None of you, by the sound of your blog entries are 100% pure-blooded native American Red Indians. This country was formed to be a melting pot free from persecution of any kind. All the blog entries I bothered to read before I got too disgusted to read any more, create the persecution this country was created to be a safe haven from. Have you ever stopped to think of why the words; "United States" precede "America?" I did, on the day I became a naturalized citizen, January 20, 1993. I was the response speaker at the naturalization ceremony I was part of, the only person on that date whose first language was English out of the 149 other people I was sworn in with. No, don't even go there, 'cos I'll send the Angel Gabriel's wrath after you if you do. About a month after I gave the response speech, I received a medal from the Freedom Foundation in Valley Forge, PA. A not-for profit organization that upholds and furthers the complete undertanding and adoption of our Declaration of Independence (based on England's Magna Carta) and does what they can to protect this country from those of you who forget that you are not pure-blooded Native American Red Indians. Forgot your grade school history lessons did you? Haven't read your Bible lately have you?
Sarah Golding of Pennsylvania
Ms Golding,
The one salient point that appears to have escaped your legendary powers of perception is that my post was pure sarcasm. If that's too complicated for you to grasp, I'll put it in simpler terms: It's a goddamn joke. It's my way of poking fun at the very people you are railing against. I'm on your "side" lady, so direct your indignation where it belongs.
The other commenters whom you are quick to criticize picked up the intended tone, but if you're unable to do that perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to sermonize when your reading comprehension skills are so sorely lacking. Forget the lectures about grade school history and Bible-reading and work on understanding what you've read before you start spouting off.
Meanwhile, I'll be here laughing at your comments while waiting on my celestial smackdown from Gabriel.
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