I hippie lawnmowered again.

Maybe the next time our front lawn gets unbearably tall I will drag the hippie lawnmower out there and ask Poor Kyle to make a video of me using it. I think you’d all appreciate the joy that comes from watching the very tall grass get cut (literally CUT!) down by a rotating reel of semi-sharpened blades. It’s probably the most satisfying visual experience you’ll ever have, short of popping a juicy white pimple.

But juicy pimples are a dime a dozen (Oh, what? You say you DON’T have pimples exploding out of your skin each morning by the dozens, new ones baked fresh daily for your ritualistic popping pleasure? I’m so sad for you.), so where’s the fun in that.

By the way, is it just me or is the internet kind of a depressing place lately?

Geez louise, cheer up, PEOPLE.

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