Didja-get-that? I asked Cowboy Fan. He waved me off with a “Sure,” but I recognized that
look. It’s a genetic thing. Many traits change, but since the 6th day of creation, women have been able to translate the testosterone twitch of a man’s facial expressions when he’s forced to ask for information.
We were at the rental agency getting instructions on equipment usage. The young employee spewed a litany of Twentyish at us while jacking the cord of the chainsaw, like he was in a timber contest. Fortunately, we’re fluent in the guttural language of the not-quite-adult male which uses only adjectives, no verbs , and a lavish sprinkling of “mehs.” Unfortunately, the machine started, his lips were moving, but we had no idea what he said.
The gas can was the important thing. It was brand new. Cost $50. EPA certified. Spill-proof “Lose one piece off the gas container and you buy the whole thing.” It must have been important. It was the only complete sentence he spoke besides, “ You have 2 hours.” (Start the Mission Impossible music).
How hard could it be? We have a shed full of old prima-donna two-cycle engines, who have to be cuddled into starting by yanking your arm out of your socket. Even that didn’t work with 10 minutes of sweat after we got the chainsaw home.
“Squeeze the trigger?” the employee asked when we called him. “Never squeeze and pull. Flooded. Now. Meh.” A half and hour into the project, we still hadn’t cut anything.
When the chain saw finally backfired and sputtered to life, Dallas Cowboy Fan jumped in the bed of the pick up and I drove along the arborvitae bushes surrounding our property.
You’re probably scratching your head and saying, “What???” Well, let me just say…it was an idea. We needed to knock about 2 feet off the top of our shrubbery and the boles of the bushes were bigger than the fat parts of my arms, overwhelming our faithful hedgetrimmer ( which I might add, only needs a few curses and threats to be intimidated into starting.)
It was a 2 Stooges idea, (the 3rd stooge off at college, trying to get as smart as us.) We were buzzing along until the chain flew off. It took twenty fingers, three post graduate degrees, and two screwdrivers to get it working again. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Then it began to rain.
Back on the cutting line, we gave a few more bushes haircuts, then ran out of gas. Huddled under a tree, we did everything we knew (short of stabbing the gas can with screwdrivers) to get fuel out of the fancy $50 can. Our redneck workaround was to unscrew the safety caps and pour what we needed directly out of the jug. Tick…tick….tick goes the clock.
The engine had learned its lesson and started right up, but the chain refused to budge. It began raining harder.
We reached the rental agency at 6:01. One minute after they’d closed. I proposed cramming the blade into the mail slot, leaving the machine-butt hanging out. Dallas Cowboy Fan said we could cut a hole in the door and heave it though, if we could get the saw to work.
He returned the saw the next day. There was no charge.
“Did you find out how the gas can worked?” I asked.
“Didn’t ask. “ He waved me away, his face awash with a new testosterone look. He was contemplating his next project. Buying his very own chainsaw to cuss at.
What an entertaining story! And boy, you’re brave. I’ve never operated a chain saw. And the last time I used a lawnmower I dug big holes in the lawn. Still, I try. And that’s what’s important right? But to define “try,” we have no hedges, no trees needing cutting, and the bunnies ate all my flowers. Having virtually no yardwork — I’m pretty good at that.
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Awesome title! Your style is down-to-Earth and most of all: FUNNY!
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My favorite part was your description of the “guttural language of the not-quite-adult male!” Glad you survived the experience with all of your fingers and toes intact!
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Thank you. Now, I’m trying to learn the run-on dialect of the OMG female. It comes with a lot of hand and facial gestures that also must be interpreted.
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That’s GUTTURAL with a U. Now I can try to go to sleep counting “OMG females.”
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I understand completely and changed it, so you can get to sleep. I’m pretty sure I mis-typed “shot” into a ruder word on someone else’s post and I don’t remember who. Now, my inner angel will be kicking my inner hooligan all night.
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About the only intelligent remark I can make here is Arrgghhhh.
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Beth. I’m can find the restroom in 3 languages: English, Spanish, and crappy German and French (I figure 2 partial fluencies make a whole). But I don’t speak pirate. Oh wait. Was that redneck you were spouting? If so, that’s the sound you make when cutting off an appendage. You’re hired on the team as soon as you get the stitches out.
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Oh, do tell me the truck was not moving at the same time the chainsaw was! At any rate, this post is very informative–I’ve learned that I know people who not only have a truck, they now have a chainsaw as well. Whoo-hoo! You never know when those might come in handy! ;o)
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I’m so glad this info is handy for you. And yes, the truck was rolling down the line of bushes, while the chainsaw was (supposed to be) cutting off the tops. That was the plan anyway. We’ll continue to try to perfect it and now we’ve added beer and “yeehaws.”
Give us a call. Do you have property insurance?
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To heck with property insurance, you and Mr. Dallas need to invest in some heavy-duty accident insurance. Are you CRAZY??
Love that picture. I’m rushing out to have it made into wallpaper for our family room!
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Our third stooge was allegedly smarter than us when he started high school. He’s a lot dumber now that he’s a Jr. in college and needs more money.
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Dan, we were hoping to break the cycle of dumbocity, and while it is true college can be an expensive stupifying experience, this is the first time I’ve been able to keep food from disappearing from the fridge and I’ve finally located the base-layer (called carpet) in the kid’s room. Let me dream a while longer.
By the way…where have you been? I’ve keep checking for new posts. Great stories you’re sharing.
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argh! The first comment I did I got an error message on when submitted, so I did it again, Now you have 2. I want you to know it was not me losing my mind, just the internet playing a joke on me and snickering at my double messages!
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I removed the second repeated post because that’s one of the powers I have. BWaaaHAAA HAA, and I know you can’t do it from your end. Just one of the many services here at Before Morning Breaks.
Now, about that scary photo of me, do you want it in wallet or poster size?
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Sounds like an experience of my husbands. LOL He once decided he could change out a cracked toilet and 3 toilets later we were calling a plumber. Me, I avoid chain saws as brings back horrible nightmares of a horror movie once seen. In fact, that first photo of you with the chainsaw will cause me nightmares for awhile! *shiver*
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Really? would you like to buy an autographed 8X10 of it? You could use it to scare the squirrels away from your feeders.
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Hilarious. I’m about to go in to work to listen to “a litany of Twentyish.” I am ready thanks to you.
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No prob. E, but I’m sure you’re already a good interpreter and native speaker.
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Yep…that’s the way to find out what’s wrong with the gas can! Do neighbours get to watch? 😀
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No. That’s why we have these honkin’ big hedges. So we can charge for this kind of entertainment.
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Crazy fun. For we the readers. You, not so much.
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Well, now I know to add beer, so it should be funnier next time.
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Oh dear. Testosterone driven pruning can be dangerous and it sounds as if some of it rubbed off on you. My smaller portion quotes a gardening guru (male) every year at rose pruning time. ‘Garden guru’ says you can prune roses with a chainsaw. So far it hasn’t happened….
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I agree wholeheartedly with Garden Guru. Probably because the row or roses Cowboy Fan insisted on planting have been abandoned by him. Their care falls to me, so I’ve been trying to kill them by shaving them as close as a dog with mites. The roses LOVE it. Never looked better. Thanks for the idea, maybe I can shove rose care back on Cowboy Fan. It’d be something for his chainsaw to eat.
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My husband, the reader of directions of all things, would’ve taken the damn thing back to the rental company and raised the wrath of God upon the poor clerk. However, I like your story better. Funnier and so creative. Thanks for your laugh of the day.
PS Wonder what the “3rd stooge.” would’ve done if he was there
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Being a college man, he tends to roll his eyes a lot at our antics unless there’s the chance something will blow up or catch on fire…then he’s all in. I think it’s an attitude attached to the X chromosome.
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One side benefit of your misadventures is the dose of hilarity served free to your hanging-on-every-word readers. Too bad you didn’t get it on tape (the college kid could have held the camera while you and Dallas Cowboy Fan did the kamikaze run down the hedge row. Might have won you the top prize in America’s Funniest Home Videos. 🙂
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We were too busy looking in the gas can and cussing the chainsaw to make a friggin’ video.
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Too funny! But I know exactly why your otherwise well-conceived plan didn’t work as expected. Here in the Deep South, the kind of hedge-clipping scenario you described is fairly commonplace. The big difference … the one thing that lubricates the plan and the perpetrators … is BEER! Both driver and chainsaw wielder MUST have a beer in hand, (and not just as a prop, either … they must both swill it and belch with alarming regularity) AND they must also scream frequent “Yee HAW”s.
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Susan, dearie, oh that i had that information beforehand. (Wrist to forehead) I shall run right out and get some brewskis. I imagine the cheaper, the better. Right?
I was screaming, but it wasn’t YeeHAw. (See reply to Georgette) (Hand over mouth)
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You have to be the Barb-Bark-Mark Twain of the Pacific Northwest. This is hilarious and I can’t wait to share it with my husband.
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And like Mr. Twain, I’m working on my cussing. This episode helped.
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OH My God, CALL US! This is the sort of thing my darling husband loves doing, and we own two chainsaws. The guys can stand out in the rain being manly, and we can sit in the house all warm and cozy and knit.
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Too late. We now own a chain saw, and yes, it is a manly device…kindofa woman’s slice, dice, and chop machine. Cowboy Fan keeps coming inside asking: “Can I cut that one down?” “How about that one…the kid doesn’t need the swing anymore…” Roxie, Let’s you and I just stay inside and lock the door.
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You’re a nut. That works for me, LOL! Margie
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Not anymore, the new chainsaw cut down the hazelnut tree.
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