Screwin' the Pooch Pays Off For This Son of a Bitch

Years ago, I came up with an idea about creating artificial plants that included dead and dying leaves.  After all, when all the leaves look prim and proper, then of course the plant is going to look phony.  However, when mowing the lawn in my back yard, I am forever picking up leaves from my neighbours plants.  My neighbour's FAKE plants.  I can't understand how a plant which is primarily made up of plastic and fabric, could possibly lose it's leaves.  Yet here I am.  Bending over and removing plastic material from my lawn and tossing it over the rear fence, back into their yard.

Another factor that I find bothersome about tackling yard work, is the electric cord for my mower.  I have a sizeable yard and therefore require a lengthy extension cord.  So there's that constant necessity of swinging the cord to the side, practically throwing my arm out of joint in the process.  Not to mention, the retarded fashion that my yard is cut up, what with a duo of shrubs bisecting the yard.

The worst thing about doing yard work, though, is my allergies.  I am extremely allergic to grass.  Freshly cut grass.  During the summer months, I'm unable to open my windows for the fear of dusty grass remnants wafting into my house, thus causing extreme discomfort, health-wise.  And despite wearing a dust mask, which works in most cases, it does not always do so.  Today, in fact, by the end of the tedious task, my eyes were swelled shut and I had loads of "material" flowing from my nostrils.  I was in terrible disarray.  While in the garage, I managed to smoke my head two or three times before I finally retired for the day.

I had originally planned on doing this dastardly task yesterday, but opted to remain inside instead.  My neighbour to the north of me was out and about, mowing his lawn, so I'd have really been up shit creek.  I waited until today, instead and thank goodness I did.  My neighbour T__, to the south of me, was about to begin his own bout of yard work, when I came into the front yard with mower in tow and a big white mask over my face.  

"You look like you're ready to perform surgery." he joked.

"I wish." I replied, adding that I was deathly allergic to grass and the affects that it has on me.

"That's terrible." he responded, "What happens to you?"  I explained the extreme occurrences, and that's when he offered up the services of his daughters.  

"They can swing by and mow your lawn when they do ours." he explained.  "And they'll do it for $10."

AWESOME!!!  I f*cking hate yard work and would gladly pay someone $10 a week to do it for me.  That is a sweet deal.  It looks, to me, like screwing the pooch this weekend, really paid off.  Yay!

Cookie Crumbles

I was drowsy, going in and out of consciousness, when I learned of her passing.  I'd fallen asleep in bed with the television on, so my lethargy was from exhaustion, and not drug induced like Whitney Houston's life had become in recent... uh... decades.  Still, her death comes as a surprise.  To me as well as the world over.

For those unaware of her fame, specifically fans of today's bubble gum-cookie cutter pop icons instead of artists of substance, Whitney Houston rose to fame in the mid-80's and garnered herself many gold and platinum albums.  She coined the phrase "The children are our future" from her song "The Greatest Love of All".  Practically a child, her first album, the self-titled "Whitney Houston" debuted when the singer was just twenty-one years of age.  So in a sense, she's matured before the world.

It was throughout the early part of her career, that she was able to ascend to superstardom through her music and movie appearances, acting in films like "Waiting To Exhale" and "The Preacher's Wife" (which paid her an astounding $10M, a lot of dough at the time).

She married former "New Edition" member, Bobby Brown, who was a success in his own solo career, with hits like "My Prerogative" (later covered by Britney Spears) and "On Our Own" featured in Ghostbusters II (1989).  However, life with Bobby wasn't all that it was cracked up to be (pardon the pun).

It seemed like her life and career after that union came to be, quickly began to spin out of control.  The relationship and marriage was rocky, even at the best of times, and the only real success the duo had, came with the birth of their daughter, Bobbi Kristina Brown (1993).  Reports of improprieties began to flow into the media, like a rushing waterfall.  For a time, you couldn't turn on the television without viewing reports of their crazed drug-induced antics.  Two personalities who'd once held the world in the palm of their hands, were now the dirty crusties found under your couch.  The picture above is the best illustration I could produce that showed the tremendous "before and after" affects of the drugs.  Undeniably, Whitney Houston was once a vibrant beauty queen with a face that could launch a thousand ships.  Look at that gorgeous smile.  Then look at the inset of what a horrible hag she'd become.  A true American-tragedy.

Though she'd attempt many comebacks over the years, I don't think she ever truly shook the drugs.  I can't say that I know what she sounded like the past five or ten years, but I'm willing to bet that it failed exponentially when compared to her former prowess.

As I read the reports of Whitney's passing, I am a little bothered by the instant assumption that foul play must've been involved.  I see the term "criminal intent" repeated throughout the media circus.  A concept now being tossed up by fellow celebrities.  Without viewing all the facts, I am confident in reporting to the world that there was NO CRIMINAL INTENT, unless you include the dealer who sold the drugs to Whitney Houston.  In the weeks to come, after the autopsy and all the tests come back, it will be revealed that Whitney Houston died of a drug overdose.  That's how all the great ones seem to die.  Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison, John Belushi, Janis Joplin and even that child molester, Michael Jackson, all died due to the monkey on their backs.

I don't understand the need for drugs, especially when you're someone famous.  They always say it's the pressure of the business.  Bullshit.  I've worked in retail.  THERE'S pressure.  People yelling at you and treating you like shit.  The lives of singers and actors...  Pressure?  You're a f*cking singer, for Christ's sake.  You sing!  That's it!  You do what you love!  Where's the pressure?

Although, I have never been a fan of her music.  That genre failing to meld with the likes of the styles I prefer to listen to, it doesn't mean I can't appreciate true artistry.  One of her greatest hits, was a song originally recorded by country crooner, Dolly Parton, "I Will Always Love You", from the movie (and a personal favourite of mine), "The Bodyguard", starring Kevin Costner.  I think despite the way her life ended, she will go down in the annuls of history as one of the true great ones, continuing to be loved, ALWAYS.