Thursday, June 28, 2007

Wack Job

My super sweet neighbour, I'll call him Danny* (*not his real name), has been helping me with my lawn maintenance. My other neighbour, I'll call him Chip* (again, not his real name), has also been giving me a hand (With his shirt on this time. And trust me, that's a good thing).

Between Chip using his ride-on mower and Danny using his weed wacker, I've barely had to lift a finger so far this summer. It probably helps that I always express how thankful I am for their assistance. Toss in a couple of eyelash flutters, and a short skirt with flip flops, and ta-da! I've got myself a couple of lawn boys. Kind of like pool boys, but without the water/ requests to have help with my sun tan oil.

Danny wanted to make sure my boyfriend wouldn't mind that he was helping me. Awww. Isn't that sweet? Ofcourse I quickly set the record straight. Lawn boys = 2, boyfriends = 0

Yesterday, Danny asked if I wanted to try out his weed wacker. Ofcourse, being the adventureous girl that I am, I said yes. Well, because Danny is: a) a guy and b) bigger than me, the weed wacker looked a lot smaller when he was wielding it like a knight's sword. But when he brought it out of the shed, it was almost as big as I was.

Danny got it started for me, and showed me what the buttons did. It was gas powered so the trigger gave it a "vroom vroom" sound like an engine reving, or a high powered chain saw. I could hardly contain my excitement...I am woman, hear me roar (over the loud roar of my high powered weed wacker).

And then...

I tried to use it.

It was like the machine had a mind of it's own. Plus is was heavier than a dead body (or something). So I could barely move it around. I was throwing my whole body into getting it to move - then it turned into this pendulum-esque swinging motion. Back and forth, back and forth.

Let's just say, it was a massacre. Grass was flying like muppet fur. I decapitated a cedar post holding up my front step. And those poor flowers, they never saw it coming.

The whole "rein of terror" probably only lasted 60 seconds. I shut off the machine. And half carried, half dragged it to Danny. Naturally, he was trying to maintain composure. Which wasn't helped by the fact I was laughing hysterically.

I felt like such a...girl and I needed to be rescued by the big strong man. Danny told me he doesn't mind taking care of it for me anyway. I wonder if his wife minds?

I guess good fences do make good neighbours. Although, I don't have a fence around my house. Maybe it's cute single girls make good neighbours.


Ashley said...

just found your blog.

laughing my ass off at this one...

it does pay to be cute in a skirt & flip flops!

(also, no way in hell could i weed wack.)

James said...

Sounds like a funny scene - did you have witnesses?

Erika said...

Ashley: I'm glad I'm not the only one :)

James: Just "Danny". I was too busy laughing to notice anyone else. I'm sure the rest of the neighbours were peeking out their windows.

Starboard Tack said...

That is absolutely true: all married guys like having cute single girls as neighbors ... actually, I think I can leave off the word "married" and be even more accurate.

Charlene said...

Oh Erika! I can totally relate! You know how big my Hubby is and he's been working ALOT- so I thought I'd do the weed wacking myself! UGH! It took me a half hour to just start the stupid thing. (after I realized it was out of gas it started much quicker) HEAVY!! My arms were on vibrate the rest of the day. Not pretty. I masacured my favorite geraniums!
My husband, being the wonderful guy he is, bought me a harness to ease the discomfort. Of course, I acted all thankful, but haven't attempted the wacking since.