a letter to my neighbor on the occasion of a warm saturday
Hi! It was surprising to see you this weekend. I suppose you could tell that by my scream. The one that made you look up from your lawn mower and glance around? Yeah. That one. Loud enough to hear it over small machinery. Pretty impressive, if you ask me.
Speaking of impressive. Wow, your man pelt is coming in nicely with the warmer temps! I always thought shaggier animals were inclined to shed during balmier months, but apparently I was wrong. That's a right fine downy layer you're sporting, neighbor. I'm especially taken with the lack of demarcation that is apparent starting at the curve of your ass and running up over your shoulders, then down to what I often hear affectionately referred to as "the treasure trail."
Though, in your case, I think "the treasure thatch" might be more accurate. Especially since the equation of unemployment + free time x several cases of Miller Light (I'm not judging, dude, but you knocked that wall of empties down in your struggle for the weed whacker, so, you know, not really a secret...) = plenty of ground upon which the grass to grow, if you know what I'm sayin'.
Now, I'm a fan of shirtless men. Big time! Heck, I'm even a fan of hairy men. However, sometimes you just have to have a change of heart when you're hoisting that Hanes Beefy T up out of your waistband and find your fingers getting tangled in the treasure thatch.
So, scary hairy neighbor, since you can't seem to decide when it's a good time to keep your shirt on, I've provided you with the following tips:
- If bears attempt to hunt you in hopes of bagging a you skin rug for their libraries, you should keep your shirt on.
- If neighborhood children wake you from a Sunday nap, begging you help them recreate the infamous scene from "The Empire Strikes Back" where Han Solo slices a stinky tauntaun open so Luke can stay warm while on the planet Hoth, you should keep your shirt on.
- If, after a particularly taxing day working out in the humid Midwestern air, you can wring out your back hair, you should keep your shirt on.
- If you always answer "It's just you," to the query "Is it cold in here or is it just me?", you should keep your shirt on.
- If Michael Stipe of R.E.M. opens a concert by dedicating the song Hairshirt to you, you should keep your shirt on.
- If bald men speak in hushed tones and bestow you with gifts and golden trinkets as though you were some sort of tribal king, you should keep your shirt on.
- If you have to part the strands to scratch your belly, you should keep your shirt on.
- If you go to Jamaica and come back with your nipples accented by a line of cornrows and beads, you should keep your shirt on.
- If Bigfoot knocks on your door and says "Dad?" before giving you a big hug, you should keep your shirt on.
- If the sun hasn't made contact with your skin since you were 10 years old, you should keep your shirt on.
- If your wife routinely prefaces her remarks to you by saying "Why, you are abominable! Whoops! Did I say 'you are'? I meant 'that is...'", you should keep your shirt on.
- If birds attempt to nest in your pectorals, you should keep your shirt on.
Like that thick patch on your left shoulder, I could go on and on, scary, hairy neighbor. Instead, I'll just apologize for the screaming and the temporary lull it placed in your yard work. You are a true testament to testosterone, and I would bow to you, but I'm afraid the hair on my head would spark that upon your chest, and I don't wish to start an inferno. You're hot enough already.
I mean literally. You have got to be hot with that much hair on your body, right?!
Your less hairy neighbor who is always after her husband to keep things tidy, and awaits the sale of your house to Numby, who should get cracking and make an offer because they just lowered the price again, and apparently he doesn't scare the laydeez when he mows sans shirt.
Labels: got a devil's haircut in my mind