Dear Potato Bugs:
I know...I know...I'm late to post today. Give me a break...those of us who provide public services have a right to sleep in now and again, then wake up, get dressed, take a fifty from his wallet and make the march of shame back to my place. Auntie had a long day yesterday on the Metro North railroad, taking a little jaunt north to have lunch with mumsy, and along the way I got a that red hot poker to the eye that is the hideous misconception that people refer to as "decorating their yards."
Aunt Mark understands leaving your holiday lights up all year; as a matter of fact, I appreciate it. I think there is something festive about spending the Fourth of July with visions of fireworks dancing in my head. I also don't care what color you paint your house: if you are really unbalanced enough to paint your house fuchsia or chartreuse, I think it better that you do and screw the zoning laws. Those laws are doing one thing, and that is hiding the crazies in your neighborhood. I like crazy painted bright pink and covered with lights, so I can keep my eye on it. But that is just me.
No...what I am talking about mostly is the people who plant flowers in absurd items like bathtubs and toilets. Who in God's name told people that it was a cute idea to paint a bathtub lemon yellow with lavender flowers on it and fill it with Morning Glories? The only thing I will ever plant in a toilet comes after a long dance with a diuretic and a large-print edition of Reader's Digest. Talk about a rock garden.
I even saw a yard where some out-of-work musician planted a sunflower in a tuba! In a TUBA folks. I am pretty sure a tuba sells for several thousand dollars, so why wouldn't you put it on eBay instead of looking at it and saying, "Golly...that looks like a groovy place for an herb garden."
People...your yard is NOT the place to become creative with old appliances and useless bric-a-brac.You can't make a wishing well out of an old laundry basket, a rolling pin and a rusty paint can. If you can, save this kind of inspiration for scrap booking, where doing screwed up things with pictures of your family is not only acceptable, but encouraged.
I know...I know...I'm late to post today. Give me a break...those of us who provide public services have a right to sleep in now and again, then wake up, get dressed, take a fifty from his wallet and make the march of shame back to my place. Auntie had a long day yesterday on the Metro North railroad, taking a little jaunt north to have lunch with mumsy, and along the way I got a that red hot poker to the eye that is the hideous misconception that people refer to as "decorating their yards."
Aunt Mark understands leaving your holiday lights up all year; as a matter of fact, I appreciate it. I think there is something festive about spending the Fourth of July with visions of fireworks dancing in my head. I also don't care what color you paint your house: if you are really unbalanced enough to paint your house fuchsia or chartreuse, I think it better that you do and screw the zoning laws. Those laws are doing one thing, and that is hiding the crazies in your neighborhood. I like crazy painted bright pink and covered with lights, so I can keep my eye on it. But that is just me.
No...what I am talking about mostly is the people who plant flowers in absurd items like bathtubs and toilets. Who in God's name told people that it was a cute idea to paint a bathtub lemon yellow with lavender flowers on it and fill it with Morning Glories? The only thing I will ever plant in a toilet comes after a long dance with a diuretic and a large-print edition of Reader's Digest. Talk about a rock garden.
I even saw a yard where some out-of-work musician planted a sunflower in a tuba! In a TUBA folks. I am pretty sure a tuba sells for several thousand dollars, so why wouldn't you put it on eBay instead of looking at it and saying, "Golly...that looks like a groovy place for an herb garden."
People...your yard is NOT the place to become creative with old appliances and useless bric-a-brac.You can't make a wishing well out of an old laundry basket, a rolling pin and a rusty paint can. If you can, save this kind of inspiration for scrap booking, where doing screwed up things with pictures of your family is not only acceptable, but encouraged.
"Better late than pregnant" is something I say at least once a day, usually at around 8:02 a.m. What I find amusing are those people who stand an old bath tub on its end, bury it about halfway down, paint the inside blue and plant the Virgin Mary in it. Those people are surely high-tailing it to hell when they die.
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