Wednesday, October 19, 2005

The chores, THE STORES, fresh air, TIMES SQUARE


the Esteban jockey Posted by Picasa

A while back I posted a picture of some perennial grasses from a little corner of my garden. My compadre, Andrew, expressed surprise at how rural mi casa is. "No moreso than I, dude," was my thought at the time. How did I end up here? I think back and I can't recall my train of thought. It doesn't make any sense to Mike's Brain 2005 that I would settle into a fairly rural, very conservative community to build my business. It was probably familiarity that did it, but I'm not sure. I grew up in a community like this, but that was back when I was still bangin' cheerleaders (alas, the lifted and not the lifters). It just doesn't add up for me now.

I'm reflecting on this now because of the day I had. After I finished a brief, but hectic work schedule in the morning, I had my afternoon free. Well, I worked out hard at the gym first, natch, but then free. Well, free, but in truth I've also saddled myself with a large house, a large yard and copious landscaping to maintain. Fall is well upon us here in Central Bumfuck, Ohio, so I am now a slave to the outside maintenance. Before I go on, I must admit it was a GORGEOUS and unseasonably warm autumn day. Picture me in a sport shorts and sleeveless T combo. What's that? Yes, in certain venues I can still pull it off . ((Bitch)). Instead of lawn mowing, though, I should be rollerblading and checking out hot urban guys (h.u.g.). Instead of weeding, I should be reading and catching rays in some park while checking out h.u.g. Instead of cutting down perennials, I should be sitting at some sidewalk coffee shop, sipping an espresso, blogging and checking out h.u.g. Instead, I'm cutting the damned grass while breeders and their spawn, and Golden Retrievers, frolic about the 'hood. As if the Furies are at work to further bedevil me, I am then invaded, not by h.u.g., but by these Japanese beetle lady bug looking things. Do y'all have these? I have thousands of them landing all over me, climbing into my shirt and shorts. I'm normally amenable to invasion by something Asian, but he should be a lot bigger and he should definitely not be a lady. To add final insult to injury, some farmer in the vicinity starts spreading chicken manure. You heard me. Wanna know what that smells like? Just imagine the dankest, mustiest corner of some really old dude's cellar. Got it? Now imagine that he's let 250,000 chickens shit in there for about six months. Now stir that with a big stick. That's the smell.

So won't someone come and rescue me? I don't require much care and I have a talented mouth. Seriously, fuck Oliver, Lisa needs a penthouse view.

8 comments:

The Other Andrew said...

Oh Michael, I could just read you all day my friend (and not because I'm getting off on your pain, 'cause that isn't the case). This post has everything; pathos, scorn, humour, bugs, chicken shit! Oh, and the word pictures you paint of your 6'1" frame in sport shorts and a sleeveless tee, thanks for that. *smooches*

You all know we'd be queuing up to rescue you if we could, right?

Oh, and to quote Freakgirl "FUCK OFF SPAMMERS!"

Michael said...

So your laughing WITH me is what you're saying.

Can't I be your houseboy or manservant until I can get on my feet?

The Other Andrew said...

Sure thing. Bring the sports shorts.

What I was getting at is - j'adore. Seriously, your blog stands head and shoulders above the majority. Your humour and warmth (even when you're cussin' about those straights and their rugrats) just leap off the screen. You have given me some of the best belly laughs the internets ever has. That's worth the price of admission alone, but combine that with your wicked smarts on top, and it's a heady combination.

Michael said...

Andrew, you're the sweetness. Thank you, man. And the Frenchy love? Mutual.

luscious loulou said...

"How did I end up here? …
Instead of lawn mowing, though, I should be rollerblading and checking out hot urban guys (h.u.g.). Instead of weeding, I should be reading and catching rays in some park while checking out h.u.g. Instead of cutting down perennials, I should be sitting at some sidewalk coffee shop, sipping an espresso, blogging and checking out h.u.g."

Oh, Michael, Michael. I hear you and feel your pain. This is my daily whinge. (And has been so for lo these many boring years. Well the last 4 anyway.) And as well as all of your chores, I'm cleaning gutters, painting a second story chimney before the rains come again, finding the leak (coming dripdripdrip thru' my overhead light!!) by crawling on my knees over itchy insulation in the attic with care to put my bony knees only on the crossbeams!!!

So. How did "I" end up here?? I once was a party chick. I should be … argh. God help me if I'm settled. Inertia. Fear of change? Sadsadsad.

I'm going slightly insane. This is not natural.(i may need a kick up the arse or something.)


loulou

Michael said...

(i may need a kick up the arse or something.)

Does that mean or something else up the ass, then?

Fear of change AND inertia are both in play for me. This has been the overwhelming factor in my life for some time now. I'm thinking/reflecting about it all the time. What is life if not facing one's fears? I'm getting close to making a big change.

luscious loulou said...

Does that mean or something else up the ass, then?

Hmmm, as long as there's significant action in the frontal territory as well, baby. Who among us could say no? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Well done with the getting close. I'm hoping for end of November, myself but more likely Chrismukah.

My thought is the more folk who know of this great event, the less chance I'll procrastinate. It's a theory, anyway. A semi-thought out intention. *sigh*

A house can be a cozy nest but also a big pile of constant maintenance. Blech. *thbbpppt*

And on that mature note, I'll go back to the painting of my Parchment coloured hallways. Taupe/tan/beige.


loulou

Michael said...

loulou! We are one. I am presently hanging neutral blinds in my dining room and painting/carpeting a spare bedroom in vanilla plainwrap.