A few more than three teeth

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It's time for Chris to mow our lawn. I can tell this when the grass starts peeking wildly around the sidewalk and garden pavers in an unwelcome manner, like rogue untrimmings peeking out from behind a bathing suit. All of our neighbors saw this and made a concerted effort to manicure their lawns so now our lawn looks like hillbillies live here. Which wouldn't be entirely untrue, given my lineage.
 

It seems like we're in a constant battle with our neighbors to see who can mow their lawn the most; we're also covertly fighting over property lines by always mowing a weensy bit over onto the other person's property. One of our neighbors always mowed five feet over onto our property until I put a ghastly flowerbed in the middle of his path, which made him stop. Maybe it's all in my head, but I doubt it.

Our excuse for our pitiable yard is that Chris and I've been incredibly busy: Chris has spent most of his afternoons at city hall preparing for this morning, where his company was finally awarded special TIFF funds to help with the residential portion of Shock City's studio project; I've got things coming up next month, including a trip to the east coast which I'll go into later, that I've been preparing for these past several months.

Despite this, I was ahead of the yard game last weekend; I listened to Snow Patrol (whom Chris and Doug saw at SXSW, rendering me infinitely jealous) while separating my lilies and weeding out the beds. I was trying to separate my red hot pokers - which if you've never seen one they resemble giant phalluses - if separate means to PSYCHOTICALLY STAB WITH A SPADE. It was like trying to divide a cabbage the size of a pig's head. I tried to leverage it out with a shovel and ended up flinging my stick frame off the top of the three-foot high flower bed wall, straight to the ground, where I landed on my butt.

Three Teeth wandered over with his requisite can of beer and told me how he was in the doghouse because his ol' lady had done seen him giving his friend's bikini-topped girlfriend a ride on his new motorcycle. He then told me that he finally found and read my website and that he wants it known that he has a couple more than three teeth and proceeded to demonstrate their virility by using them to pop open his beer can. I asked him since when do rednecks read blogs written by SAHMs and he countered with a jab at my music.

"I can't stand this fruity your-o-peein' music" he said, motioning to the CD player, when lo, I put on some AC/DC and Three Teeth was happy. "Well, I'm glad to hear that some good, old-fashioned rock'n'roll still's getting' played."

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