My new mission

I'll be buying as many lights as I can after the holidays.  Operation Easter lights is in effect.  Revenge never sounded so sweet

Unlucky Number Three

I am rarely home.  And when I am, I am usually studying or sleeping or procrastinating doing both by watching TV.  Anyway, on a very rare occasion, I was home before sunset.  I decided to read a little outside with the ultimate goal of dozing off. 
As I meander outside to my lawn chair oasis, I notice my neighbor resting in his backyard.  He can plainly see me getting my chair all set up.
After I get all settled, I of course decide that I'm thirsty.  This is literally minutes into my relaxation attempt. (emphasis on attempt placed by author) I struggle up and walk to the garage.  Out the garage window, I see my neighbor gassing up his lawn mower.
Oh no he didn't.  
1. He just mowed his lawn last Thursday. 
2. As I have recently learned from the county conservationist, grass cannot grow when it is above a certain temperature. 
3.  It has been consistently above that temperature since he mowed last Thursday.

Besides, last Thursday I was chillaxin' and he started up his lawn mower.  Just to clarify.  I was out before he started the mower.
And seemingly just days before that (very recent yet the exact day escapes me) he mowed his lawn also during my enjoyment attempt of my yard.

So, as I lay there last night, listening to the hum of my neighbor mowing his postage stamp over and over again, I began to see spots.  The spots could have been caused by glaring into the sun, but I think it was mostly my blood boiling.
 The saying "Trick me once, shame on you.  Trick me twice, shame on me" came to mind.
Altered of course.
Mow your lawn once, shame on me.  Mow your lawn twice, I'm suspicious.  Mow your lawn three times after I watch you watch me lay out then I watch you fill up your tank to mow your lawn at 7:30 at night AFTER I talked with witnesses that put you home all day (breathe) makes you a putz.

 Now I am on the hunt for Lawrence Welk tapes.  And a tape player equipped w/ a repeat option. 

Ghost Neighbors in the sky

I am an Angry Neighbor.

Fog and smog should not be confused and are easily separated by color.

I woke up this morning to a dense fog. 

I could not see the neighbors' houses. 

           :)


* Quote by Chuck Jones

Revenge of the Lawn Mower

Gentle readers, I am home in the evening literally one night a week.  I am either in class or running errands.  On the rare occasion I am home, I am slaving away at my computer or playing Angry Birds, I mean reading.  Tonight, while I had all the above to do (sans class) I decided to take my reading outside.  I wanted to enjoy this lovely spring evening as apparently did the rest of my neighbors.  While reading my exciting book, I was overcome with drowsiness and closed my eyes to combat this symptom. 

ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAARAARRRRRR!!!! (the sound of weed wacker)

The Hillbilly neighbors (the origination of this lovely bunch is another post I am slowly working on)  have decided to do their yard work during my nap.  Now- even as I read this I realized most of my audience will be saying that I am whining and so what if they are mowing their lawn.  Now hear this.  They are unemployed.  They literally have All. Day. to do yard work.  Even if the adult male doesn't want to, he has two teenage/college age slaves, er, I mean sons to do this work during the day. 

I digress.  As the hillbilly adult male puffed away on his cigarette and pushed his little red lawn mower over his postage stamp, I heard a loud THUNK.  I must admit, at first I was angry at this obnoxious sound.  I can tune sounds out but the interrrupted hum of the mower was quite annoying. 
But after the start of the lawn mower followed by another CLUNK, I smiled w/ glee.  Now fully awake, I laughed to myself as the neighbor tried (unsuccessfully) to remedy the continuous CLUNK. 

Oh, gentle readers, that is not the revenge.  I plan on mowing MY lawn this Saturday night.  Or perhaps Friday night after class?  Hope no one plans on enjoying their backyards. Perhaps I should supplement my mowing with the tunes of a talented artist.  Ludacris comes to mind.  Any suggestions? 

The Yellow Truck

            It was a glorious summer day preview in Northeast Ohio.  I decided to partake in some fresh air and try to get my 30 minutes of movement as required, I mean recommended, by my employers health page.  As I was cheerfully walking down the last street in the development, a Yellow Truck came roaring at me.  Not quite sure what I had done to said Yellow Truck to make him angry enough to cross into the lane I was walking in, I jumped into the grass.  Of course I followed this action up with a shake of my head and a glare.  But that's all.  No miscellaneous fingers, no urban dictionary phrases.  I watched as this Yellow Truck pulled into a driveway where its occupants (located safely in the truck bed) screamed w/ glee.  I continued with my exercise trek, thoughts of ____________ (insert adjective) tires flashing through my mind.  As I neared the intersection of this normally desolate road, I heard a horrendous noise.  The Yellow Truck was back again! I stopped walking; not sure where to go.  The Yellow Truck ran the stop sign and in its fast right turn it lost control of it's rear end, now safely carrying three passengers in the bed.  The rear end just straightened out as I leaped out of the way for the SECOND time on the SAME road in ONE day.
            I'll end this story briefly.  I called 911, furious and upset.  I waited for the officer.  Another witness/nosy neighbor decided to keep me company.  The officer arrived in what seemed like 20 minutes (it was actually 18).  He is good friends with the nosy neighbor.  (I'm still trying to decide if that was good or bad)  He asked me all the typical questions.  He then said "I'll have to keep an eye out for the Yellow Truck."  I asked "Why?  It's parked right over at there!"  Heck yes, I followed the Yellow Truck to it's abode.  I got its license plate and it's driveway partner's license plate and pictures. 
            Bad news: He couldn't ticket the truck.  I couldn't identify the driver well enough and since I wasn't physically hurt that seemed to be a big show stopper.  So sorry I was leaping for my life.  Next time I will bust out my phone's camera with much more aggression. 
            Good news:  The Officer was apparently chummy with these folks as well (but not in the "Hi, nice to see you" sense but more like the "Why am I being called out here again, please go kill each other" sense.  So justice has been done.  Or has it?  'Til we meet again Yellow Truck.  'Til we meet again...