Hope Weed Eats Eternal – Day 62

Day 62
Listening to: meditative ocean waves
Thought for the day: Hope weed eats eternal!

Down in the depths of my cold dark cellar where a spider the size of Godzilla once lived and crickets run amuck lies a graveyard of mass proportions. It is a graveyard where weed eaters and yard equipment go to die a lonely death. Matters are not helped by the fact that the ghost of the man who hand-dug the cellar, Digging Bill, probably lurks around looking for his next dime to buy a pint of ale (Digging Bill was a real person – Godzilla the spider was really not that big).

My name is Kris and I murder lawn equipment. The idea occurred to me that I should just start burying the ones I hideously mutilate with my stupidity in the soft clay floor that lines my cellar. Imagine what residents from 100 years from now would think when they made the discovery? It’d be a good gag.

I have no idea what it is about weed eaters but for the past 20 years I have gone through them like underwear. I have yet to find one that I don’t break within a year’s time and yet to find one that can handle me (it’s kind of like my man problems). I go all Salivador Dali eyed any time there is an infomercial on promising the perfect weed eater. Alas, I am on about my 20th weed eater this year. I used the latest weed eater for the third time today without saying the F word. Hope weed eats eternal ya’ll!

Note: if you’re British and reading this, a weed eater is a strimmer.
Note: Tomorrow, I go to defend my Gatorade Brewmaster’s title. See http://jellyjumbles.com/?p=172.

I may not sleep tonight. Stay tuned.

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