I’m Ready to Murder My Lawn


At the beginning of this grass-cutting season… I was all Brett-Keisel-just-sacked-Tom-Brady-stomp-around-and-do-a-stare-that-mother-down-move level excited that I was keeping up with my grass cutting.  Somehow, my schedule was aligning PERFECTLY with the growth rate and Mother Nature’s rain schedule.

I was so confident that I got all Johnny-Manziel-level-cocky about lawn care and chose to put down some of that lawn-weed-and-feed growth hormone!

But….then it it rained in Pittsburgh.. and then it rained it Pittsburgh.. and then it rained incessantly in Pittsburgh even AFTER the customary 3 Rivers Arts Festival traditional pourings.  My neighbor was starting to round up 2 of each animal in the neighborhood and started building a boat out of the lumber he had left over from building his shed and deck.

Now, I’m in the position of wanting to murder my grass.

Usually, around late August, I get tired of cutting the grass and I swear that I am going to just cement over the entire yard or, at least, dump chemicals on it to murder it until next year.  (Kind of like when you’re throwing up from drinking and you SWEAR you’ll never drink again.. until the next time.) This year, I’m already there!  I’m already tired of cutting long grass, getting soggy shoes and unclogging wet grass from the bottom of the lawn mower with an air chisel.

I cut the grass the other day…I found our old grill laying on it’s side.  To be honest, I found it when the mower blade hit a piece of metal and stopped abruptly.  1 month ago, we bought a new grill because we thought someone had stolen the old grill only to find out, it must have been knocked over in a storm and its carcass was buried, laying limp, in the high grass.

So, to my lawn (Yes, I live in one of those areas of town where the neighbors call it a “lawn” not a yard with grass.) – I know it was MY FAULT for fertilizing you but it’s NOT my fault that all this rain keeps coming.   If you were my kids in a car, I’d say, “If you don’t stop it, I’m gonna turn this car around!”  But since you’re my lawn, “If you don’t stop growing, I’m gonna cement you FOREVER,  YA JAGOFF!!!


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Home Run Derby Jagoff



Last night we had our high hopes for the Home Run Derby…

We wanted Chris Berman to get laryngitis.  My wish didn’t work out very well and I even made a wish by tossing money into the refurbished fountain at Point State Park!   Had I known that the costs of wishes had inflated faster than the Tooth Fairy’s standard rate (which is now like $5 per tooth), I would have been sure to toss enough coins in that thing so that it reflected the sunlight at airplanes.

His phony excitement  on every Home Run last night, screaming like it was the  five-year-old’s FIRST home run in the bottom of the 9th, with 2 outs in the seventh game of the T-ball world series…. the hit that got the entire team Fifty-Cents more than the OTHER team at the refreshment stand… outweighed his awful “I wish I was Hulk Hogan” hair do.

Every almost-home-run AND home run… the same yelling and excitement… “back, back, back….” clucking like a chicken.

Hey Chris…just in case you didn’t know…. this was a Home RundDerby… which means they’re ALL s’posed to be home runs, no big surprise….so SHUT THEEEEEEE HELL UP, Ya Jagoff!!


NOTE: Not sure about you but I was ready to ask for Cris Collinsworth to come in and do the announcing.  (O.K. maybe not THAT desperate!)