I listened to a voicemail on my [Bridget's] phone that went something like this: 'Hello, this is the City of St. George-department of Beautification. Your yard has been red-flagged for broken bicyles, unregistered cars, ect. Please be aware that this call is a warning before fines and tickets are imposed. Thank you!' Ok, it's freakout time. I live in mortal fear of a call like this about my yard. The number meant NOTHING to me because this wasn't my phone where the perpetrators name would have come up. This was a joke that could have gone way too good. I can see me now, outside at 12:00a.m. weeding. 'I've got to lose these weeds before the MAN gets me!' Yeah, it was a pretty good joke. Just remember, 'I know where you LIVE, GABE!'
May 13, 2010
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2 comments:
ha ha ha that's so funny. I can totally see myself thinking/doing the same thing.
If you mow your lawn and find three rusty cars, you miiight be a redneck.
If your front porch collapses and five dogs are killed, you miiight be a redneck.
Growing up I didn't know I was a redneck but looking back it was OH so obvious.
- Jeff Foxworthy
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