There I am last night, mowing my lawn, just wanting to get it over with since it's 79 degrees out and I'm starving. Out of nowhere, an unrecognizable car pulls in my driveway and a middle-aged Italian guy (who will be referred to as IG for Italian guy -- cleaver, right) rolls down his window...
IG: Are you a lawn service?
Lets point out the obvious here...
No truck/trailer, only my 2-door Scion tC in the driveway, I'm 100 pounds
and as white as an albino, and I'm using a freaking push mower.
What the hell do you think?
Me: Um, no. I live here.
IG: Oh. Did you just move in?
Me: Nope, we've lived here for 3 years.
IG: Well I live back behind and I need someone to mow my lawn.
Me: There's this guy, Al, who lives back there and I know he does some of the lawns.
IG: Nah, I don't like how he does it.
Even though it would kill my back, I'm thinking this
may be a good opportunity to make a few extra bucks.
Me: I may be able to but I'd have to talk to my fiance first to figure out a price since we'd have to cover fuel costs and all.
IG: I don't want your fiance to mow my lawn, I want you to.
* CREEPER ALERT! CREEPER ALERT! *
It may have been something I would think about but you just blew that one buddy!
Me: Well I'd still have to talk to him and get back to you.
IG: Sounds great, thanks!
Then he leaves.
What the Fuddruckers?!? Who does that???
I immediately put the mower away and went inside to call Beau. My family thinks I may be onto something though... One Hot Babe's Lawn Service.
It has a nice little ring to it! Ok, it doesn't but I'm sure I could bring in some money.
Now I just need a slogan...