In related automobile news, one time in my early 20s I had a muffler that was dragging on my car, about ready to fall off. I grabbed the whole sumbitch and threw it in a ditch alongside the highway. I told that story on Instagram yesterday.
Just to put this out there for those inquiring publicly and privately: I wouldn’t actually spray her whole yard with weed killer. If you’re new here, it’s funny. But I do think about it and curse under my breath when she’s got a yard full of bloom that’s blowing over into my yard. I’m not sure if it’s obvious by my picture but her dandelions are of epidemic proportion. There isn’t grass over there, only dandelions and other weeds.
In the Spring they’ll take over my half my yard in a matter of days. I only resorted to spraying after 6+ years of trying to keep up with digging them by hand, etc. If ya’ll think I can dump corn meal on them and be done, I’ll gladly pay you to tend to my yard with natural remedies so long as they actually work against the sheer volume of dandelions I’m talking about. And it doesn’t cost me a small fortune for the hours you’d be putting in.
Who is Greg you might ask. That is a very good question.
Greg is Norwegian. A simple man with locks of gold and a mustache to match. Muscles toned and tanned to a reddish brown. The women adore him and his fanny pack of Caesar spiced croutons. His wit is quick and his axe is sharp yet his heart is as pure as the Newfoundland snow.
He often can be seen wearing only but knee-high leather boots, the best Corinthian leather generally saved for the gods. His ranch dressing is spicy but palatable, chivey yet smooth.
If you listen closely you might just hear him sing a little ditty about Jack and Diane on a warm summer night. There’ll be a twinkle in his eye and a dab of parmesan on his lip.