I asked my landlord for a weed wacker / and he gave me a slingblade
No, that’s not the first line of a terrible, Billy-Bob-Thornton-inspired blues song. Read on.
For those of you who know me even slightly, you know there is one underlying philosophy that informs every aspect of my life. It is the beacon of wisdom that lights my way forward, and it is this:
I hate manual labor, especially if it occurs outside.
So when I asked my landlord to borrow a weed wacker so I could clean up our side of the block, I fully expected to be pulling a crank line and buzzing my way down the street. Instead, I had a lovely opportunity to study the life of a 19th-century farmer as I hacked and chopped my way down the street.
Before we go to the video, allow me to mention two other facts:
- It was 78 degrees Farenheit
- The humidity was 96%
Let’s go to the tape: