4.14.06

Category: dribblings

happy Good Friday, you guys.

ew, look at this.
i don’t know what i find more repulsive, the fact that he killed her ‘cos she wouldn’t heat up some sandwiches, or the fact that he drank a beer before calling 911.
what a guy.

i’m sick right now, i’ve got some kind of evil stomach virus of torture. it hurts pretty bad, especially if i move and even more especially if i bend over.

yesterday i saw this neighbor lady (whom i’ve never met before but i know she lives in the white house on the other side of me, not the Lola Side), and she was clearing off the lot where they knocked the house down. the house debris is gone but there’s lots of logs and branches and trees and things that were cut down.
i figure someone was paying her to clear it off ‘cos i’ve seen her out there everyday.

so yesterday she’s trying to move this giant log by herself and i see her just as i pull into my driveway. i was going to go help her but my stomach was hurting so bad and i was about to shit myself so i ran inside to do my business, and i figured i’d help her after my business was concluded.
when i went back outside she was gone.

i was relieved because my stomach was really hurting. so i laid on the couch and moaned for about 4 hours.
then i got up to get some more water and what do i see outside my window?
the lady. struggling with a log.
damn. well, i think to myself, if i go over there something will happen.

so i go out and ask if i can help her and she is SO excited to get some help. she hands me the Known World’s Oldest, Dullest Handsaw to cut this branch that’s on this log thinking that if we cut the stupid branch off the log will just roll to the street curb.
i bend over to start to saw. well, first, ow.
OW!
this will never work with the Stomach Pain of Doom. “how about we just tug it to the street?” i suggest.

“it will roll better if we cut that branch off,” she says. or, i think she says. she wasn’t very good at talking. she might be a touch slow.

“okay look, i’ve got an old rake. i’m gonna go get it to drag that log around, okay?” i ask, knowing that will work ‘cos that’s how i drug around all those railroad crossties i had. but, i am totally dreading this ‘cos my tummy is really hurting.

“i think if we cut this branch off it will roll better. you know, i’ve had tons of people ask how much i want for this land.”

“really? how much do you want for it?”

“suga, it ain’t even mine! i wish it was mine. i’d done sell it.”

“if it’s not yours…why are you clearing it off?”

“the city told me i had to or they would fine me.”

“what?! they told you that?!”

“mmhmmm.”

“well, they lied. they couldn’t fine you, they’d fine the property owner. who owns this property?”

“girl, the city owns it.”

“WHAT?! the city came and cut this all down and then told YOU to haul it all to the street?”

“that’s right! and i can’t afford no fine.”

“but if it’s their property then it’s their mess to clean.”

“but they told me it was my trees.”

“if they were your trees…why did the city cut them down?”

“i don’t know. they just said they’d fine me if i didn’t move it. but see here, see how i painted all the tree stumps? heehee! i made me some art.”
and she had, she spray painted the tree stumps black and white striped. whoever cut down the trees and bushes left about 3 feet of stumpage. they look like horrible fingers or something. and, as weird as it looks, i’m glad she painted them all funky…since they’re hers and all.

i’m not sure what the actual deal is, but like i say, the lady doesn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders, and i think that some douchebag city workers may have tricked that poor old lady.

anyway, i’m about to go get my Trusty Rake when this blue pick-up truck pulls up and this guy gets out and says, “do you ladies need help with moving this log? i saw you struggling with it so i turned around and came back.”
thank you, Lord. you are so good to me.
“yes please!” we say. and this guy, bless him and his kind, kind heart, he ties a rope to the log and hauls it to the street with his truck. takes about 10 seconds.

“girl! you done brought me some good luck!”

“yeah, i get that a lot.”

we both thanked the nice, sweet, kind, man for helping us out.

then i went back home to moan and groan on the couch.

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