Arboriculture, Dave Style



You know you're a real homeowner when you find yourself on your front lawn, armed with a length of thick rope duct-taped to a football, staring at a huge broken limb hanging precariously in your tree, but stretching out over your neighbor's sidewalk and driveway, and trying to determine if you're able to heave the football through the tiny Y shaped crevice and get some leverage and pull it down; after twenty or thirty throws (and learning to coil the rope AROUND the football and let it unravel in the air) and the encouragement of my neighbor and her son, I was able to snare the limb and then rock it violently until it came loose and crashed to the ground . . . it was WAY bigger than I thought, and I really should have left it to a professional-- but think of the money I saved (and for Catherine it was win/win, either we would save a few hundred dollars or she could cash in on our life insurance policy).


12 comments:

Whitney said...

I had heard through the grapevine (Internet chat rooms) that today was one of the few times that the reclusive Dave Salinger was showing a picture of himself on the Sentence blog; while I could never have predicted that this would be the picture (not even with 10 clues, some backstory, and a can of Scotchgard to huff), I can't tell you how relieved I am not to be looking at a picture of Dave's sebaceous cyst.

Al DePantsdowno said...

Those pictures make you look like you're 50 years old.

dave said...

catherine must have been laughing so hard she was shaking.

whit, nice "ween" allusion . . .

Whitney said...

Today our model Dave is sporting an ensemble they call "Crap, New Jersey". Breathe it in, people, just soak it in.

The layered look starts up top with the long-sleeved undershirt by Hanes, the sweatshirt by Russell Athletic, and the down vest by . . . 1980's. And "tucking in" is for nancy-boys.

Down low we have duck boots by L.L. Bean for the avid anatine hunter, or just the weekend warrior for whom "bringing home birds" means garnering middle fingers on the Turnpike in response to flicking lit cigarettes out of the T-top. And "lacing up" is for nancy-boys.

'Twixt those two fashion statements we have the sweatpants. Essays could be written on the low rungs of the ladder and the Garden State sweatpants-wearers who reside there, but it's best to borrow from Jerry Seinfeld, who quipped:

Jerry: Again with the sweat pants?

George: What? I'm comfortable.

Jerry: You know the message you're sending out to the world with these sweat pants? You're telling the world: "I give up. I can't compete in normal society. I'm miserable, so I might as well be comfortable."

Dave said...

that made me laugh really hard for three reasons.

1. it's about me, and i love reading things about me.

2. i thought the photo was too fuzzy, but obviously through sharp eyesight or brilliant guess work, you nailed the entire ensemble.

3. i just changed into sweatpants.

Whitney said...

Well, if you click on the photo, you get the big, crisp image. Enjoy the sweats.

Whitney said...

Oh, and the sponsors gave me some grief -- I forgot to mention the deflated K-2 football by Wilson, the duct tape by Scotch, the rope by Samson, and the rig by jury.

Whitney said...

And now that I am going comment-crazy, I figure I'd ask -- you ever think about moving the Sentence of the Day over to Twitter? I just got on there this week and it seems ideally suited for this. Except for the character limit.

Dave said...

i'm not sure what twitter is, exactly. i've heard of it, but i've also heard of hadron colliders, and i don't know what they are either.

Dave said...

wow. if i realized just how big you could blow those pictures up, i would have worn nicer sweatpants.

Whitney said...

The more I look at that top picture, the more I think it's ideal for a Name The Caption contest.

Al DePantsdowno said...

Are those orange "caution cones" from your kid's playset or something? Where's your hard hat and safety glasses? Did you consult the OSHA regulations before attempting this branch extraction? And where's your permit? I'm calling the mayor. That tree's on city property!

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