Dear Steve, Mack, Bill and Lon:
I feel quite lucky that we moved to a neighborhood where the homeowners really care about their homes and do so much to keep things beautiful. We have no cars on cinder blocks or unkempt lawns here. Most of you quickly shovel or snow blow after a snowfall. You clean your gutters, paint your shutters and wash your cars regularly.
Most of you cut your grass twice a week--TWICE a week! It is amazing that the grass has been growing so fast to warrant that, but you all are totally on a schedule. It has even shamed Herr into doing the same thing in order to keep up with all of you and not have the loser lawn on the block.
I do, however, have one request. I need all of you to start wearing shirts when you cut your grass. I am begging you. I am trying to sell my home. I think your collective moobs and bellies may be hampering our home sale.
Mack, I first noticed that you were doing the semi-nude lawn care last year. I cringed last year when he would see me and wave. Now that we don't speak and you don't wave, it is a little easier to take. However, you insist on wearing shorts that were obviously from your 1984 high school gym class. They are shorter than Daisy Dukes and REALLY tight, Mack! Have some dignity.
Steve and Bill--I almost feel bad for including you in this letter. After all, you are both well over 70. I realize that you both probably have the, "Fuck it--I'm old and I won't wear a shirt outside if I don't want to" attitude. Maybe you are trying to speed up the Golden Years by getting skin cancer. Whatever your reasons may be, I need you to consider my children. They have asked on more than one occasion why you both have such "long" breasts. I know that we can all look forward to having boobs that look like socks full of nickels, but lets keep them under wraps, shall we?
And Lon--don't think I forgot about you. How can I forget you when your image is permanently burned into my retinas?! You spend, by far, the most time prancing nearly naked in your front yard. Then, as if all of the cutting, trimming and sprucing wasn't enough, you then will take your garden hose and water your perfectly black-topped driveway for an HOUR. Not your lawn. Your DRIVEWAY!! What the Hell is wrong with you? Do you not pay for your water? I sure as Hell pay for mine. Is there such misery in that house of yours that the only thing left for you to do is water your driveway? Since you do this every damned Sunday, it stands to reason that people who are driving up to our Sunday afternoon open houses are seeing your crazy half-naked, water-wasting ass and thinking, "Ummm, let's go to the next house on our list."
Now before you all start thinking I am a big old bitch, hear me out. Have any of you ever seen me in the front yard in a bikini? No. Have you ever seen any part of me flopping around? NO. Between my pasty white-girl complexion, varicose veins and my jiggly, mushy parts, I know that it is not in good taste to be strutting around my front yard like I am Giselle Bundchen. That ship has sailed.
By all means, do what you want in your back yards. I don't care if you do naked Slip n' Slide back there. Just please start wearing a shirt when you are in your front yards.