I Hate Yard Work
Perhaps someday I’ll be filthy rich and have a gardener but for now as homeowner I’m stuck weeding, pruning, trimming and all that other nasty nature stuff. I need to warn you to bee careful when you are in the garden.
Since I’m in the Over-50 crowd, making a fashion statement isn’t always high on my priority list, especially while working around my own estate. I have some fabulous rubber rain boots that I like to wear while I’m working in the yard – white with orange trim with yellow, orange and green citrus fruit pattern. I also often wear dresses, which offer a nice cool breeze up the nether region and of course I have my garden gloves which cover my forearms, so as not to scratch my delicate skin. Got a visual?
One other thing I forgot to mention is that I take a pass on wearing britches. Not necessarily because I’m a nasty girl but that’s just more needless laundry that can be avoided.
I Was In The Zone
The other day I headed out back, loppers in hand and started hacking away at that overgrowth. That’s not a euphemism. It was hot and I was in a hurry as the yard waste disposal truck was due to come by within the hour. I was pulling the weeds that easily ejected from the dirt, and chopping down anything green or brown that was in my way. I was bound and determined to fill up that yard cart in record time. I was in the zone; I was making good time when all of a sudden … YEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOW!
What the hell was that? Did someone just shoot me in the arse with a b-b gun? Suddenly I felt like Forrest Gump who got shot in the buttocks. I threw the loppers to the ground as I tried to figure out where the sniper was hiding. I was twisting and dancing and the full moon was shining brightly. It’s just too bad that I didn’t have some music, a pole and an audience; I may have made a few bucks with that performance.
A Bee Had Bitten Me On The Bum
Owie, owie, ow. That smarts. Once I safely determined that I was not under attack I could see, correction, I could not see way back there, but I could feel a nice round welt arising on my ample booty. I needed to investigate further.
Back inside my castle I found a hand mirror did a few contortions until I could clearly see that indeed a bee had bitten me on the bum. And here all this time I thought “bet your sweet ass” was just an expression. Now I have the evidence to prove that I actually do have sweet cheeks. Aww honey-honey.
I like big butts and I cannot lie… You other buzzers can’t deny… Well shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it, shake that healthy butt …Baby got back
If you liked this post please Like, Share, and Post a Comment. As Managing Director of Concealed Statements, I specialize in exposing lies through verbal and written statements; and for a little levity to balance I am also a stand-up comedian and wedding officiant – Lies, Laughs, and Love!