Submitted by Wonder Boy
Cicadas come up from the dirt after hibernating for 17 years. They shag like crazy and they die. That’s it.
So when they are looking for that one ultimate shag, how do they find the right gal or guy?
Month: May 2004 Page 1 of 2
Submitted by Wonder Boy
You know, it never ceases to amaze me how quickly a construction-like event can attract a horde of onlookers – namely men.
Case in point: This morning “The Tree Killers,” as I like to call them, brought a very large crane, a chipper / shredder thing, a cherry picker and about five guys to euthanize our moldy aged oak tree that shades the entrance to our building at work. As soon as the crane pulled up in the front of the building, guys from Information Services (well, me included) started drooling and lining up by the window to catch a glimpse of Tree Surgeons at work. In between meetings we all ran to the window and were mesmerized as only watching manual labor can make you.
Why is it that we are fascinated by watching other people work? Is this why reality television is so popular? This I cannot answer, but I know that a couple years ago a children’s educational video company took note of our fascination and starting taping the happenings of various construction sites and marketing them to the delight of youngsters and adults. As it turns out the videos fascinated children and were a favorite (and a bestseller) among boys that Christmas. There is even a whole cartoon dedicated to construction.
All in all, I think the “Tree Killers” did a very precise job, despite being attacked by a swarm of cicadas and killer bees. The best part is the head tree trimmer, who has a quarterback-like role on the team: calling the plays, guiding the cranes and chainsaws. He performed the entire job from inside the cherry picker bucket with chainsaw in one hand and a ciggy hanging out of his mouth. Now that is something to gawk at! 
R.I.P. Mr. Moldy Oak Tree. You will be missed!
The feminist in me knows it’s wrong, but I like when people honk at me while they drive by or give me a hollah from their window. Once, while running, someone yelled out to me, “Girl, whatever you doin’, it’s workin’!” and it motivated me to run an extra mile! I take it as nothing more than meaningless affirmation and I love it.
Two days ago I got honked at while I walked to my car. Now, I know it’s prejudicial, but I am not sure I should take this particular man’s honk as a compliment. I have found a picture online of a man that is comparable in appearance to the man who honked at me.
Would you take this man honking at you as a compliment? (My guy had a shirt on…)
Some people use the calendar to mark the beginning and ending of seasons. Not I. I use signs to let me know when summer has arrived, when winter has ended, etc. My mom, a recovering vegetarian, has been waiting for this summer to begin with her first picnic hamburger.
This morning I awoke to summer. The soft chirping of birds woke me up and I found that sometime yesterday I had gotten my first mosquito bite. I love the first mosquito bite of the season. I love a good itch. It’s so satisfying. Your leg itches so you scratch it and everything feels better. Wouldn’t it be nice if everything was that easy?
As I was happily scratching my skeeter bite, I discovered that it was not one but several mosquitoes that found me. One bite is the much-anticipated beginning of summer. More than one bite is just miserable. And as I lay in bed trying to go back to sleep, those damn birds kept chattering away, not letting me get any more rest.
Welcome, summer..
