10 Reasons Why

10 Things It SOUNDS Like the Lawnmower Man Is Doing Right Now

  Note: I finally broke down and started paying someone to take care of the yard, having fretted previously about justifying the expense. Turns out this was one of the best decisions, ever, and the joy of not having to screw with all that mess is indescribable. But I always know when the Lawn Guy is here, because that man and his team can be LOUD. These are the auditory signals of his arrival:

1. The 18-wheeler slamming into a train.

Okay, it’s just a pickup and this long-ass trailer full of equipment, but when the man arrives, you’d think there was a forty-car pile pileup on the Interstate. He can’t just drive up and politely stop. He’s got to make sure that every piece of equipment on that trailer crashes into something else, with at least two pieces of said equipment hurling themselves over the side of the trailer in a frenzy of mechanical suicide. I’m guessing he didn’t read the entire driver’s manual.

(Driver’s Manual, buried in the glove box: “Are you kidding? He didn’t read anything. I’m still wrapped in plastic like Laura Palmer.”)

2. The reenactment of the Berlin Wall coming down.

This would be Lawnmower Man lowering the gate/ramp of the trailer. No automated regulation here, folks. He just slams the thing open with bad-childhood menace, resulting in an exploding thunderclap that echoes throughout the neighborhood, giving palpitations to the elderly, alerting gang members to the possibility of yet another drive-by, and occasionally triggering false reports of seismic activity in California.

(Muffy: “Damn it. I just put the sushi out for our guests and now we’ve got to all run and hover in a doorway. That tuna is going to turn on me in three seconds.” Biff: “I know the feeling.” Muffy: “Did you just make an offensive statement that will lead to our divorce?” Biff: “I’ve been trying to do that every day for the past ten years. Please let this be the one that sticks.” Muffy: “I knew it! You’re seeing someone on the side.” Biff: “How do you think we got the discount on the sushi?”)

3. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Tribute Medley

Actually, it’s his leaf blower and not a chainsaw, but you wouldn’t know the difference. This weapon, clearly manufactured in the jungle encampment of some pissed-off drug lord, has a noise level that breaks the previous upper-limits of the known decibel range. And that’s when the demonic thing is idling. When he revs that sucker up, going after leaves that can’t possibly offer any resistance, trees fall over and birds drop out of the sky.

(Dorothy: “Somewhere… over the rainbow, bluebirds fly, and the dreams that you… wait, what happened to the bluebirds? Are they mowing at Bonnywood again?”)

4. The rhinoceros having sex on the patio.

It’s nice that he blows all the leaves off the patio, something he doesn’t have to do yet he takes care of it anyway. But with that G-force blower we have furniture flying through the air and bouncing off the side off the house. Even the wrought-iron chairs. It’s truly a display of man harnessing the elements, something that would be fascinating if it didn’t sound like the Gestapo raiding the house, really upset with me for having plotted with Veronika to take out Hitler.

(“Herr Brian, you have demonstrated opposition to our delusional leader!” Brian: “Are you talking about Donald? What decent person wouldn’t do that?”)

5. The voice from the toilet.

It never fails. I always desperately need to use the facilities right when this man is here. (Perhaps my body is in shock from all the cacophony, and this is just natural instinct.) And he inevitably manages to start yelling into his phone right outside whichever bathroom I have chosen, bellowing instructions to other members of his crew as they annihilate neighboring lawns, scaring the hell out of me and sending me toppling for Jesus.

(“Why can’t I participate in the Circle of Life with some degree of dignity? Why?”)

6. The saw-blade of Satan.

This would be the ear-shattering whir of the weed-eater, as it also gets ratcheted up to full-destruction mode and is unleashed on any bit of whatever that had the nerve to grow a mere millimeter beyond its designated length. This man does not mess around. If he wants you gone, you’re gone, even if you can’t hear yourself going. The military should have weapons like this.

(Squad commander: “Okay, grunts, whip out your nylon cord and let’s take that hill!”)

7. The aircraft carrier pulling into port.

And we have the actual lawnmower, a term which can’t possibly, adequately describe the shock-and-awe thing the man drives as he proves his domination over the tender green shoots. It’s massive, and I really am surprised that I haven’t seen fighter jets land on the thing, with a strand of weed-eater line keeping them from racing off the end of the lawn-ship. Of course, this traveling football field is just as loud as his cousins Blower and Eater, and just as apt to be confused with a Stage 5 hurricane.

(Weatherman: “And radar indicates that we have an extreme atmospheric disturbance centered over Bonnywood Manor. Chances are that the owner is writing another blog post that is full of extreme suckage. Please proceed to your designated safe spaces until he signs off.”)

8. The machine-gun dings on my phone as emails start pouring in.

  I already don’t have a fond place in the hearts of my neighbors (long story), so it should come as no surprise that they would have a negative reaction to the unhealthy cacophony emanating from my property. My inbox is quickly filled with nasty-grams of invective concerning twisted souls who arrange for Armageddon to take place at 8am on a Saturday morning. (Vlad the Impaler had better social skills!) Nothing they can think of doing to me could ever be punishment enough. But they are sure going to try everything they can to make my life miserable. Just as soon as they actually get out of bed and have some coffee and nosh.

(Pearline: “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I wouldn’t dream of performing an exorcism on an empty stomach.”)

9. The Japanese retreat from Pearl Harbor.

This is the pivotal moment when L-Man decides that things are just fine and dandy, and he signals to his crew that departure is imminent. Now we have running, yelling and clanging, with all of the equipment heaved back toward the long-ass trailer, with little regard for where things might land, what might happen when they do, and whether or not the folks three counties over really needed to hear all that.

(“Buford, I told you to tell your dumb-ass cousin to stop smoking behind the propane tank. We can’t afford to lose another meth lab.”)

10. The near-silence of the financial transaction when Lawn Guy rings the doorbell.

Him: “Hey”

Me: “Hey”

I hand him cash, he leaves, I close the door. Peace and serenity return.

Three days later, Scotch the Cat comes out from under the couch, with an attitude and legal papers from his lawyer.

(Scotch: “I am seeking emancipation.” Me: “You don’t even know what that word means.” Scotch: “Doesn’t matter. My lawyers know big words.” Me: “And how are you paying for these lawyers?” Scotch: “It turns out that Veronika is a double agent, Mein Herr. She has access to all of your financial accounts.” Me Herr: “Good luck with that. Even if you combine all those accounts, I can’t even afford your next bag of litter.” Scotch: “Hmm. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”)


Originally posted in “The Sound and the Fury” on 03/29/12 and “Bonnywood Manor” on 05/02/15. Considerable changes made, especially since the sidebar dialogue did not exist until now, proving that the atmospheric disturbance over Bonnywood continues to suck…

Oh, and the image for this post? It’s a bottle of “19 Crimes” wine. It just felt like the right thing to share, Mein Herr.

(Liza Minnelli as Sally Bowles: “Oh, I could tell you a story or two about men being not quite what you thought they were…”)


27 replies »

  1. Where do I start? Hilarious!
    The seismic activity in California had me smiling (as did pretty much every other line).

    I misread that you were worried about people hearing the noise three countRies over so that got me thinking about the third country over from the US (any of Russia’s neighbours? Or it’s neighbour’s neighbours? I ) or maybe down in El Salvador is what you meant. A bit of a let down it was only three counties over… explains why Europe is still fairly quiet on your Lawnmower days.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well, to be fair, I think all countries of the world should be worrying about the lawn-mowing in this country. We’re in the midst of of a broiling mess that begs for an intervention, but that probably won’t happen until enough people grow dissatisfied with the status of their sushi… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  2. So much hilarity in this one. I can’t see right now due to the tears of laughter blinding me. I think 4 and 6 may be my favourites.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Well at least now I know I’m not alone in my opinion of lawn men. Ours (which was hired by the sociopath who USED to run things ’round here…a DEVELOPER (mentioned in hushed tones. That dude is EVIL), is a motley crew (apologies to the band, nothing the same. NOTHING). Somehow lawn man wrested a FIVE year contract out of Developer Idjit and now we’re stuck with Armageddon every week. Huny loathes the sight of any of that mess and has actually tried to take out the calf and ankle portion of someone named something vaguely Hispanic (no profiling intended mind you), who was wielding a weed whacker o’ death and taking out chunks of my vinyl fence in the process. Now I keep her locked inside, because I do believe vaguely Hispanic’s guys cousin, who drives the BIG mower, isn’t adverse to a little dog based fertilizer. (Sorry m’am ’bout yer dawg, I just didn’t SEE her..) I hate them too and we have another year past this one to endure their ministrations to our lawns. Maybe I’ll forward your list to the owner of that lawn man effort and … wait. Those guys can’t READ, as niftily pointed out in your first point.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I suppose I should point out that our lawn guy and his team do an excellent job, just in case one of them happens to read this post and decides to take revenge in a surprising way. (Trimming the bushes so it looks like one of them is giving me the finger? Actually, I might find that rather amusing and decide to highlight the artwork with some marigolds or some such.) It’s just that they are so loud I can’t focus on anything until they leave, and the cats quietly lose their minds every time. It’s a real fun-fest…


  4. Aw well %!#@. I wrote a lengthy comment about the similarities twixt your lawn people and the ones who invade us here weekly. WordPress, sh*tting the bed again apparently, ate it. My sympathies fella about the lawn mess. It is spot on btw, and hilarious. *grumble stupid site that eats comments… f*%$#@! “

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well, it looks like your original made it here after all. I wonder what it is between our two sites where our comments sometimes go AWOL or at least not show up for several hours? Is somebody trying to tell us something?… 😉


  5. You are actually paying someone to do this to you? My neighbors do this to me for free, except that they do it on their property. (Actually, they do have a tendency to cross the line and do it to some of my property too.) If they sent me emails, their emails would be questioning why I’m not out there with them making just as much noise for just as little reason. My attitude toward lawn care is like some people’s attitude toward church: once a week for an hour is plenty, and there’s often a good reason to skip a week. J.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I’ve been away too long. I’d almost forgotten how funny you were … “Why can’t I participate in the Circle of Life with some degree of dignity” … bwahahahaha!! 🤣

    I would love to have a lawn service, but frankly those dudes scare me.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m so happy to hear from you again, truly mean that. And I’m just as guilty of not quite visiting your own site as often as I should. I just popped over there and it appears that I am several posts behind. I shall try to atone for my sins… 😉

      P.S. Yes, the lawn guys are a bit scary, but the joy of not having to mess with the lawn when I don’t have time is quite satisfying…


  7. If you explored The Rhinoceros, which may be a metaphor for the nazi party, in which case a raging rino boner just about describes those douche canoes, or more apropos, maybe a bag of raging rino boners, then I’m all for comparing raging rhino coitus to the landscape engineer’s penchant for making noises of the aural blood drizzling kind. It’s just like such a sadistic torturous nazi lover who’d set forth a horney rhinoceros (ha! Punny,right?) on your porch to go at the girl rino already on the porch. But maybe it’s not another rino? No wonder you went into nazis, too many questins raised by the amorous rhinoceroses. Sigh.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I am SO glad you made this comment, seriously, as I was giddy with offbeat glee as I perused your words. It warms my heart when I encounter kindred souls who can take a little bit of something, an offhand remark, and then run with the wind. Unfettered imagination is a great and glorious lark. It’s what I live for, and it’s the basis of most of my writing. Please share more of this deliciousness whenever you feel like it. Please. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      • Brian, first, highly platitudinous, loftily underseved praise, but I’m grateful for the boost. Writers so often take St Louis slugger home run blows to the solar plexus, head and ribs, it’s nice to connect to the ball and make a few good base runs and assists every so often. My acquisition of olde tyme photos may spark up your “muse vintage” and may trip your writer’s alarm, so to speak. I can posit them in an iCloud album or elsewhere if you point me to a photo sharing app you use I can plunk them down there.

        Thanks for your ongoing support it helps to roust me to go back into my write voice to share some really difficult shit.


        Liked by 1 person

        • I am greatly intrigued by your offer of old tyme photos. Perhaps I could tempt you to email a few of them to “bonnywoodmanor@gmail.com”? That route offers the highest probability that I will actually see them, as I get a bit unfocused when it comes to checking all my depositories… 😉

          Liked by 1 person

          • Will make an attempt and I know what you mean. If I check my compiled email backed up over 70k with 69,550 of them being spam, I wouldn’t see the light of day for weeks.

            Liked by 1 person

  8. I live where I live so that I don’t have to mow and shovel snow. The down side of that is my neighbors. Not going there. There’s not enough time and writing space. And after I chewed out the worst offender, she accused me of not being a good Christian. I shot back that I didn’t waste time arguing with idiots, except in that case, I guess I was. Sigh.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Many decades ago, I actually enjoyed working in my yard and it was not uncommon for me to spend entire weekends doing such. Clearly, it was an emotional cry for help. As for my neighbors, I just now reflected that I have only personally met ONE of all my immediate neighbors, and I’ve been in this spot for 21 years. (Okay, I also spied one of the other neighbors drunkenly relieving himself in his backyard once, but I wouldn’t really consider that a bonding moment.) There are some great folks in our overall neighborhood. They just don’t live in my neck of the woods…

      Liked by 1 person

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