Creature of Habit

I hippie lawnmowered again.

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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.

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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2 Responses to Creature of Habit

  1. Irene says:

    sometimes I wish there were more pimples in my life.

  2. Alaina says:

    I love that you call it hippie lawn mowing. T does all of ours, but he’s so particular about the grass, I don’t even want to try cutting it. But something about a gas mower, kind of scares me too…

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