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Monday, March 19, 2007

Why men and fire should never mix.

So, I get a phone call from Joe around 3:30 on Friday. There's nothing unusual about that at all. However, we've been together for about 8 years now, and I know him almost better than I know myself. From the second I picked up the phone, I knew he did something that would a) get him in trouble or b) get him in trouble. You see, unbeknownst to Joe, his voice changes a few octaves when he's up to something. Sometimes "the change" happens when he's trying to butter me up because he wants to make a big purchase (ex. our brand new grill) and sometimes it happens when he's done something bad and is trying to soften the blow (ex. what he did on Friday).

Here's a brief re-cap of our conversation:

Joe: Hey, I love you.
Me: What did you do?
Joe: Nothing (voice gets higher)
Me: Yeah right, what did you do?
Joe: Nothing, I swear (starting to sound like Mickey Mouse)
Me: Uh huh
Joe: Ok, are you sitting down? (voice is nearly inaudible at this point - dogs are coming out in droves from the high pitch)
Me: *silence*
Joe: Well, I kind of burned up our back yard.
Me: What do you mean "kinda"
Joe: Well, I left a box burning and it kinda spread throughout our yard and burned the grass up.
Me: How much of our grass is burned?
Joe: Not much
Me: Really?
Joe: Really! (mouse pitch again)
Me: *silence*
Joe: Ok, the entire yard, but at least we didn't burn down the neighbors house.
Me: *silence*
Joe: It's not so bad, you'll see.

We hung up the phone with one another because I don't really like talking about family matters and such while I'm at work. I guess at that point I didn't realize just how bad it was.
So, I get home from work and walk to the backyard. Looks like a vast wasteland, something you'd see on a National Geographic special. I partially expected Bear Grylls to pop out in all of his glorious hotness and start eating pieces of the charred grass because it has protein and tastes like steak. Poor Cosmo was outside playing hopscotch jumping from one section of grass that hadn't been fried to another section of grass that was still alive. He's a diva dog.

Just incase you're thinking "Nah, it can't be THAT bad!" here's photographic proof. Don't say I didn't warn you. By the way, this is only a small section of our yard. The burned grass stretches from one end of our yard to the next, stopping about an inch from our neighbor's fence. I think I heard, "You know, this is GOOD for our grass, it'll grow in nicely in a few weeks" about 50 times. I guess we'll find out in a few weeks if that's true!

Enjoy!


Monday, March 12, 2007

Mannequin.

This post won't be about American Idol or about anything of significance. I just wanted to share something with you that will astonish you and change your life forever.

A mannequin.

A few blocks from my office is a small apartment complex where the second floor of each apartment has a balcony that faces a main road. While most people decorate their balconies with strand lights (during Christmas) or pumpkins (during Halloween), one resident of the complex has taken it upon herself/himself to be the resident whack-job. This means that s/he has shucked tradition by throwing out all Christmas lights and replacing them with a mannequin. This mannequin is quite festive. She's dressed up for every holiday in the appropriate gear - Santa Suit, Mardi Gras mask, witches hat - what's not to love?

Today, she's sportin' her summer garb - bright, lime-green sun-dress, no shoes. The only thing that's missing today is her hair. I guess her owner was opting for the Phil Stacey look. Judge for yourself.





I will keep you posted anytime the mannequin changes clothes. Just so you know I am risking life and limb here because the crazy person leaves the windows open during the day and can probably see me taking pictures with my phone. Hopefully s/he won't have me arrested.

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