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.
Showing posts with label Chivalry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chivalry. Show all posts
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Zoom Zoom Zoom
I'm quickly learning that guys love tinkering and general fix-it's for a woman in need ["need" is often self-determined by said guy]. More than likely an automatic response that can be tracked back to caveman days when the cave dude was always trying to help a cute cave girl reach the cub off the top rock. Guys like to feel wanted and needed. It's not rocket science.
Liam offered to check out my stereo system because the sound in the right side speaker was dodgy. He peered around the component, and promptly asked for a flashlight so he could examine the wires and determine the problem. Ofcourse, I was assigned to be the pretty tech assistant/ flashlight holder. Liam was able to figure out after 2 seconds that my problem was "I need a man" for various things about the house. Ah huh. [I did get him back the next day while cooking lunch, he was unable to put saran wrap over a container of leftovers, so I told him he "needed a woman."]
In addition to gaget and electronic diagnosis, men also like taking on internet -based "research" for their girlfriend/ partner/ wife/ girl they're shagging. And no, I don't mean THAT kind of research. I'm talking safety ratings and fuel economy.
I'm in the market for a new car. While my current car is in relatively good condition considering it's age (think Demi Moore), I'm concerned about it's dependability (think Bruce Willis). With every thump, whirl and swish, I become more convinced that I should turn down the bass and stop listening to Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" and pay more attention to what's going on under the hood/ axel/ splash guard.
Liam was sweet enough to take me out for a test drive on Friday (the cars, not me). I had explained that I already knew which dealership I wanted to deal with (Toyota), and which car I wanted (Corolla Sport in impulse red). Naturally, being the man who's researched (and researched), he didn't want his careful hours of auto anaylsis to be wasted, so he pursuaded to get me to try a few others cars to get a feel for quality and performance.
The first dealership we went to had shoddy customer service. After our test drive, the saleman asked Liam what he thought of the car. Playing it "cool" Liam said that he really really liked it. I, on the other hand was not convinced and the salesman knew it. Silence sayd a lot.
Trying to work his salesman magic, the man offered that Liam's opinion didn't matter as I was the one with the decision making power. Well duh. Obviously he thought we were purchasing a vehicle together, and figured that women hold a lot of weight when it comes to making big ticket purchases. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.
The next dealership had over-the-top customer service. The salesman explained every single minor detail about the car - what every button did. The 400 pound salesman was leaning in from the driver's side door (I was sitting in the driver seat trying to remember which button gave the oil readout and which one pumped up the seat). He was two inches from my face the whole time, I was trying not to laugh, wondering whether I should smoke a cigarette afterwards.
We saved the best for last and Toyota did not disappoint. The moment Liam sat in the driver's seat and felt the leather bound steering wheel, he was hooked. I'll never forget his words, "You were so right, this car is THE ONE." We drove up to the Wal-Mart car park and I hopped into the driver's side, feeling a bit less nervous about driving a brand new car. I drove about 5 feet - the length of one parking space (just like in that car commercial) and said, "I like it!" Then we laughed hysterically.
Liam did show me how to measure performance and quality versus value for your money. Plus, he got to reve some engines and drive some cars. But sometimes you just need a woman ;)
Liam offered to check out my stereo system because the sound in the right side speaker was dodgy. He peered around the component, and promptly asked for a flashlight so he could examine the wires and determine the problem. Ofcourse, I was assigned to be the pretty tech assistant/ flashlight holder. Liam was able to figure out after 2 seconds that my problem was "I need a man" for various things about the house. Ah huh. [I did get him back the next day while cooking lunch, he was unable to put saran wrap over a container of leftovers, so I told him he "needed a woman."]
In addition to gaget and electronic diagnosis, men also like taking on internet -based "research" for their girlfriend/ partner/ wife/ girl they're shagging. And no, I don't mean THAT kind of research. I'm talking safety ratings and fuel economy.
I'm in the market for a new car. While my current car is in relatively good condition considering it's age (think Demi Moore), I'm concerned about it's dependability (think Bruce Willis). With every thump, whirl and swish, I become more convinced that I should turn down the bass and stop listening to Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" and pay more attention to what's going on under the hood/ axel/ splash guard.
Liam was sweet enough to take me out for a test drive on Friday (the cars, not me). I had explained that I already knew which dealership I wanted to deal with (Toyota), and which car I wanted (Corolla Sport in impulse red). Naturally, being the man who's researched (and researched), he didn't want his careful hours of auto anaylsis to be wasted, so he pursuaded to get me to try a few others cars to get a feel for quality and performance.
The first dealership we went to had shoddy customer service. After our test drive, the saleman asked Liam what he thought of the car. Playing it "cool" Liam said that he really really liked it. I, on the other hand was not convinced and the salesman knew it. Silence sayd a lot.
Trying to work his salesman magic, the man offered that Liam's opinion didn't matter as I was the one with the decision making power. Well duh. Obviously he thought we were purchasing a vehicle together, and figured that women hold a lot of weight when it comes to making big ticket purchases. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.
The next dealership had over-the-top customer service. The salesman explained every single minor detail about the car - what every button did. The 400 pound salesman was leaning in from the driver's side door (I was sitting in the driver seat trying to remember which button gave the oil readout and which one pumped up the seat). He was two inches from my face the whole time, I was trying not to laugh, wondering whether I should smoke a cigarette afterwards.
We saved the best for last and Toyota did not disappoint. The moment Liam sat in the driver's seat and felt the leather bound steering wheel, he was hooked. I'll never forget his words, "You were so right, this car is THE ONE." We drove up to the Wal-Mart car park and I hopped into the driver's side, feeling a bit less nervous about driving a brand new car. I drove about 5 feet - the length of one parking space (just like in that car commercial) and said, "I like it!" Then we laughed hysterically.
Liam did show me how to measure performance and quality versus value for your money. Plus, he got to reve some engines and drive some cars. But sometimes you just need a woman ;)
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