All Blow, No Job

I was out walking my dog the other day and I saw a guy giving a blowjob right on the sidewalk. Now, before you get too excited and think, “Hey, Alan’s started spending time with the swinger crowd,” please put your overheated libido in park. The blowjob in question came from an ear-splitting leaf blower, and the giver was one of the many gardeners who move from house to house in my neighborhood like kids trolling for candy on Halloween.

Roundabout where I live, as is probably the case all over the U.S., gardeners descend every week to work on the homes that they service. I’m certainly not against anyone putting in a hard day’s work to support their family, but what do these guys do besides drive me nuts? I call them the “Show, Blow and Go Brigade” because, frankly, that’s all they do. At the houses they service there’s rarely anyone at home to supervise them; everyone’s off at work or school. So more often than not, they roll up in their trucks, cut the grass, throw the hedgerows a dirty look (in the hopes they’ll trim themselves out of embarrassment, I suppose), loudly blast leaves and debris into the storm drains, and then pack up and leave. I wish I could get paid for that.

Oh, you want proof, do you? Monday, when I was out walking the dog, there was a guy with a blower blowing leaves into the yard next to the garden he was tending. He couldn’t be bothered to pick them up, because he obviously had an early tea time. Now, what happens on Tuesday or Wednesday when the gardener working the house next door arrives? He blows them back into the other yard.

We could make a reality show out of the story of dueling properties and their battling gardeners. Call it Blow Wars, or perhaps Blowmeo and Juliet. It wouldn’t be the first reality TV to feature blowjobs by loud, obnoxious machines, but at least these wouldn’t have bad dye jobs and fake boobs.

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