It has been brought to my attention by those of you who left comments and some who haven't that the post was a tad depressing. While typing, I didn't feel any sadness, nor was I striving to evoke such emotion in readers or elicit sympathy. I simply thought of a few words that, in my small brain, seemed to fit together and tell a bit of a story.
In other news, I've got a new job (week three is well underway). It's the same job I just left with better salary. I still get to write "may cause gas with oily discharge," which is still disgusting and funny (ok, ok, I don't feel badly for folks with this condition, in fact, I'd love to meet someone with such gas, invite them out for fried clams and milkshakes, and watch them squirm from trying to hold it in). The work space is nice and the window in my office is faced toward a wildlife sanctuary, but I don't think I'll find zen anytime soon. The commute sucks, but what commute that ends up at, well, work doesn't (hooker, movie star, band member (not marching), and bar fly don't count). Nice thing is that I get to work from home a couple of days each week. Like today. Although, I must admit that I've done about 10 minutes of work today compared with the two hours of surfing the net for porn and another two hours spent scraping and priming a section of trim above our back door that was ravaged by the winter weather.
In yet other news, the tree in our front yard that we thought was a cherry tree turns out to be a flowering crabapple tree, and it's dying from fire blight.
This is the latest home-owner's bummer we're faced with. Once again, there's no landlord to call to have things fixed and/or replaced. No, I have to have three different companies come out: one to cut down the tree and hall it away, one to grind out the stump (there's porn in there somewhere, I'm sure), and the third to deliver a new tree. We're thinking of putting in either a yoshino cherry tree or a mount fuji cherry tree. Exciting, I know.
Recently, our dishwasher died, we replaced it with a lovely fridgedaire stainless number. Also, the future Mrs. Fondleberries, fell in the shower and got herself some fabulous bruises on legs and arms (I've been telling folks that I beat my old lady, which makes me laugh).
Lastly, I'm told there are now 17 days until I'm married.
7 comments:
i found a motorcycle called zen once, and had it maintained by a guy named cletis; i couldn't help calling him cleetoris. he liked that, but could never tell me why. we used to share pizzas and colas at the drug store counter. then we'd head to his house and take turns with his kid sister and her dolly. those were the days.
what about these options:
a) leave the tree to just die, and don't do anthing until you get sick of looking at the dead tree.
2) cut it down yourself, cut it up and use it for firewood. you can rent a good chainsaw rather than buying a cheap and crappy one. if you don't have a fireplace, give away the wood (there's porn in there somewhere).
C) instead of having a new tree put in, get a young tree and plant it yourself.
4) move.
Lord,
You should replace the tree with a Burning Bush. You would giggle all the time, just thinking about the name.
Raw Blow
Carve the tree into a giant middle finger aimed right at the Risen Christ, then the neighbors will offer to pay you to get rid of it.
Listening to (or reading about) people talking about their landscaping woes is almost as boring as listening to them prattle on about their children.
no way anon. i want to kill myself when i have to hear about peoples' stupid fucking kids. when people talk about landscaping, i only want to kill them. it's nowhere near as bad.
hey Lord F, when you have kids, keep all the boring news to yourself, alright? i want to have a reason to read your blog other than being suicidal.
this was my favorite part of your post: "scraping and priming a section of trim".
I would like to hear more about that, thank you.
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