My Mama said they were kicking shoes. They’d take me anywhere!
Obviously, it’s the drunkenness, rather than the indianness, that you identify with.
Daft Girl
The problem here is one of definition.
A “gardener” is someone who trims your topiary, spreads fresh dung on your prized rose bushes, mucks out your Koi pond, keeps your 300-year-old yew hedge neat and tidy, and keeps the gophers, hedgehogs and occasional fox out of your tulip beds.
The guy who mows your lawn and rakes leaves is called a “landscaper.”
You’re right. The pool guy should be called a…a… a wetback!!! [rimshot]
get it???..
Pool…water…wet…Mexican…???
anybody??..
C’mon, folks…this is good stuff…
[crickets]
Yeah baby. So if you know how to do this particular job so well, why don’t you do it yourself? Just think of the money you’ll save.
It really isn’t a leftista response, Liberal. It’s the context of daft girl’s complaints.
I’ll give you a fer instance.
A few years back we had an elderly neighbor, a widower who lived next to us in a high-rise apartment. Bob was his name, he was from Tennessee so he had a slight accent; actually he was from Memphis and knew Elvis casually back when they were all just boys in town.
Bob had served in World War II when he was in his early 30’s. He volunteered to serve and was in the Pacific theatre for a couple of years. He had an amazing collection of photos with stories to match, pictures of himself as a strapping young man in the jungle, shirtless in his fatigues. A real contrast to the small, frail, wrinkled man sitting on the fine furniture his late wife had picked out.
Now when Bob would tell us of his adventures, the enemies they’d killed, he’d use words like “Charlie” and “Nip”. These are not the kinds of words I use, not the language that belongs in my house. I think Maya Angelou is right, that language floats around the air and might wind up in your rice. And it made me uncomfortable, but I held my tongue. I focused on the content of his stories and the fact that he was a good man. He had served his country, faced fears that I know nothing of; he was also good to his wife and daughter. It wasn’t my place to challenge his bigotry. I owed him my respect. And he didn’t give me too much grief over my Honda.
It’s one thing for a person who lived in a time of war to retain some hostility towards the enemy, the people who threatened his home and family.
It’s entirely a different matter for a spoiled, narcissistic, illiterate brat to mock the human being who has been hired by her father-in-law to serve her wealth-based needs.
I was thinking the same thing.
I’ve worked my ass off my whole life. I went to college, studied hard, got an engineering degree, bough a home, etc. I make pretty good money, but certainly not enough to afford a gardener, lawn boy, swimming pool, pool maintenance guy, housekeeper, etc. To keep our finances in the black I have to do all the repair and maintenance work, including car maintenance. “Hiring out” is simply not an option for me.
So I get a little discouraged when I read posts from people like fessie who have atrocious grammar and writing skills, but can somehow afford to live in a nice LA home with pool, and who can afford a gardener, pool guy, and someone to wipe their ass. How does this happen? Where did I go wrong?
I dunno. I’d fuck 'im and see if the service improves.