Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Yardwork Sucks Balls

To all of you out there who are either smart enough or rich enough to hire a professional to not only mow your lawn but trim your bushes and trees and weed all the nasty prickly shit that grows in like annoying ingrown pubes, kudos to you. Hell if you are "trading services" by fucking your gardener so he licks your bush while he trims the one outside, fucking brilliant I say. Maintaining one's yard suck ass. If someone is sucker enough to do it for you, have at it.

I loathe weeding. It's like dusting, every time you do it once the shit just comes back!! Pruning bushes and trees is hard-as-shit work that always results in multiple flesh wounds and a pile up of giant paper yard bags overflowing with unnecessary foliage. Why are weeds so God damn nasty?! Those little bitches have sharp as fuck prickers that poke through my SUEDE yard gloves. What the fuck did I ever do to you, ugly bitch-ass weed?! You take over my neatly mulched flower beds and fuck it up with your trashy, unkempt leaves. You are like the jackass redneck I seem to see at Meijer every week, with your permed mullet and trench coat in summer, who gets caught for shoplifting something gay, like deodorant. Weeds and rednecks are plain menaces to society. And the roots apparently reach China because I can never seem to pull them all the way from the ground without them breaking off. So the little cocksuckers can grow back.

I used my giant pruning shears which actually lengthen to reach into trees if I want. Yay! This makes them about 40 pounds heavier and harder to manage. Using these fuckers to trim my trees and bushes is like trying to control a 150-pound Pitbull on Ecstasy. They kind of have a mind of their own. These bitches are sharp enough to cut the balls off a rhinoceros with elephantiasis in his engorged nutsack. I wished to God I was more like Mr. Miyagi in Karate Kid with my bonsai tree trimming skills. I take more of a "whack this fucking bush to shreds so it doesn't hang over my neighbors fucking yard" approach. They now resemble the jacked Christmas tree in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Sad, really sad. So there I was, whacking my bush (uhh-huhhh), and there are mounds of branches and leaves falling to the ground. I felt like a food-deprived member of Survivor on day 39 when I have dementia and dysentery from eating lizards and ants. I could have made a damn fine bed or hut or miniature cabin with the amount of branches I cut down. Instead I had to put all that bullshit into the 6-foot tall, 1-foot wide yard bags. To whoever invented these, thank you for making them so easy to open and stand upright. It would be easier to get inside a pre-op tranny's pussy than shove your wood into one of these.

Bugs were biting me, branches were scratching me to shit, I was getting sunburned in 55 degree weather, I smelled like a fucking deodorant-free vegan convention, and guess what?! I only finished HALF of my fucking front yard! What the FUCK?! I still have a weedy mess of shit in the backyard. There are more weeds than decorative bushes. (And I like some decorative bush, sometimes with glitter...) Our Birch tree which is like that fucking tree in Poltergeist that eats that little kid, it scratches at my dining room window as if to say, "Trim my shit, you lazy twat! I am more overgrown than Rosie O'Donnell's cunt!" I have another massive bush that is literally blocking my side gate. The fact that the crew of Mexican lawn mowers can even get into the back yard to mow is probably because they are so short. Or maybe they crawl under the rabbit hole that Peter Rabbit and His Busy Pecker have dug so he can hit that bunny poon on my weed patch. Great, another reason I need to yank that shit up. I am running a bunny brothel and I am the pimp of my weed patch. I feel like busting out the napalm and just going for a desert theme. Bunnies won't fuck in the sand.

P.S. If you're panties are in a wad over my Mexican comment, chill. They ARE in fact Mexican, they ARE short, and you are jealous because you are still mowing your own lawn. At least I was smart enough to hire someone out for SOMETHING. Anyone into bush trimming?

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Fucking Meth Labs

I needed to purchase a few items from my pharmacy counter today which contained pseudoephedrine. Not heroin. Not LSD. Not crack cocaine. But sincere thanks to the toothless, sleep-deprived, Walmart shoplifting freaks who decided making meth in their basements and ignoring their babies for a week so DCFS comes a knockin' was a fucking genius business opportunity. No, really, THANK YOU.

Have you ever been close to being over your limit on your bank account or credit card? You play the "let's see how much I can put on THIS one" game at the register. That's exactly how I felt today when I needed to buy Children's Sudafed liquid, Claritin D, and regular Sudafed. I felt like saying, "No whammies, no whammies, no whammies..." But then BAM! You may NOT buy that much pseudoephedrine-containing drugs, Miss Dressed Like a Ballet Teacher But Is Clearly the Head Dealer of the Meth Ring in Bolingbrook!!! Suck my right one, fucktard. I know what the hell is gonna make me, my hubby, and my sniffly-nosed kids feel better and it sure as hell ain't that bullshit alternative phenylalalalalalalanine or whatever the hell it's called. That shit makes me feel dizzier than Pamela Anderson on the spinning teacups at Disneyworld. Give me the good stuff and I will give you a personal tour of my basement, bring your ephedrine-sniffing canines, do a body cavity search for all I fucking care.

Why do a few bad apples have to spoil the bunch? It saddens, shocks, and pisses me off that it really was such a fucking problem that now you have to sign away your stored cord blood of your first born, your 401K, and your dead cat's ashes just to buy a God damn box of those little red pills. And the gum-smacking bitch behind the counter has no sympathy, in fact she was eyeing me up and down to make me flinch. I am not guilty of SHIT, Laquonda, so avert your eyes from my miniscule pile of the good shit!

So now in a few weeks I might be eligible to have 10 more pills, or whatever the government has decided is my legal ration. I am guessing it takes an assload of those little pills to create any decent amount of meth. Two boxes of 20 pills and a bottle of grape-flavored kids' Sudafed is really gonna put my over the edge? REALLY? Fuck you, FDA. Fuck you, meth lab tweaktards. And fuck you Walgreen's. Now my house will stay congestion-free for maybe a week. See you soon, ephedrine whorehouse.