Each and every spring it rains in the desert, and each and every spring I have weeds in my yard. I pull them, spray, them, or pay people to pull them to only have them return in two weeks. Recently my front yard reminded me of Jumanji and something had to be done. We were busy so we put it off until we came home to find a large City of Chandler code inspector nasty-gram on our door. Damnit. He was planning to to reinspect in less than a week. You know what? We’ve been in our house for 5 years and always had March weeds. NO ONE has ever inspected my yard! I think the city is losing money because Jan Brewer sucks (my brother has more of a degree than she does!), so they need to suck it from us. My neighbor and I both got these nasty grams.

The wife and I hemmed and hawed about what we’d do, and finally we decided to call some weed killing people. They will head out in a few days, but in the meantime I had to make the, in some places, two feet tall weeds, go AWAY. Donna, Claire and I pulled weeds one night until we couldn’t see anymore but there were more. More MORE! The killers were coming, but I needed to at least knock them down. I considered a 9-iron until neighbor man suggested I borrow his weed wacker. I wholeheartedly agreed to borrow a TOOL! And one that I get to plug in! Awesome. I am Man. Hear Me Roar.

Well, it was more like roaring from rocks flinging off my legs since I was the idiot who weeded in shorts. And the real fun was when weed wacked my leg. Tres cool. Not. That hurt, but I’d live. All weeds died a painful death at my ministrations, but my entire leg looked like something out of Swamp Thing. I was surprised that the shower worked so well, but I did find weed wack string pieces sticking out of my leg under the green blood and body parts of the weeds of death.