getting blown.

leaves, duders.
c'mon.
i repped a leaf blower for hours, y'all.
that's right.
a leaf blower.
y'know why?
because i'm a homeowner,
and because i get busy with that curb appeal,
and mostly because raking sucks balls,
and if i have the EXPERT technology
to go and do a blowie instead,
then you mutha-b!tches better believe
that the scrapey grass-forks can leave these balls alone.
word up.
responsible adult chore-type hard-work yard-work sh!t.
using petrochemical combustion,
and whirlwind cyclonic fury,
gusted and busted,
to save my elbows at the expense
of the environment.
i was the answer, kids.
die antwoord, if you know afrikaans.
overall, y'all,
it was yet another 'nother wasted day,
foolishly spanned in the hardest style,
laboring in anomalous 70-degree november hottness.
i even mowed that mutha-F*ing lawn,, kids.
that's that mulch magic mush jauns.
lawn food!
i doo-doo that nourishing nutrient activation.
seriously, though.
i motor-power pulverized my palms.
vibro-smootherizing my skin so soft,
the better to b!tchslap the sh!t out of any and all
would-be naysayers and non-participaters.
huh?
juts sayin', neighbors,
i worked like a futuristic robobotronic MAN, today.
i would be impressed right now if i didn't know better.
....but i do.
***********
did somebody just ask what i know about romance?
i know all about that noise, my ninjas.
in fact,
i am a most considerate and appropriate romancer.
that's real.
for example-
when the skankiness of wannabe urban A*tards
starts encroaching on the epic excellence of
the world's most awesome woodsly goodness,
really-real warrior poets start making things warmer...
...by packing heat, for your face.
DAS IT!
i traded an ol' busted jauns for some new hottness.
check the teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
that, friends, is a ruger lcr.
it holds 5 rounds of especially special-type
.38 caliber +P sauce,
but it definitely goes to eleven.
wooooooooooord.
advanced space-age polymer technology,
ultra-lightweight hammerless personal protection
for my wifey's well-being and piece of peace of mind.
that's how we reinforce that Folk Life business.
fortified live, like survive the apocalypse.
she got a gun,
and when she arrived from her days down
on old cape cod, she brought me a treat, too.
that's right.
i got a sexy sweater.
two forms of heat-indusing generosity.
now that's some sh!t, ninjas;
never quiet, never soft.....