Why does the garden hose nozzle never make it through winter?

It's like we're all buying disposable razor blades, but for our lawn. One season, then every nozzle looks like it'll crack or drip or just suck.

Ok, it's not all that bad. If you've mulched enough, you know what it feels like to put your arm-to-the-elbow into a bed of soil. You huff the air, tasting the phosphate. You will plant some shît, it's gonna happen.

But first I'm going to get out this mini electric chain saw I bought on Amazon. Shît this thing is cool, there's like no safety mechanism or anything as lame as that. First time I tried it I nearly cut off my toe, which my friend Adam thought was awesome.

Every year I wonder should I grow pot. I mean for me, not for you. Ok, well, you do seem like an approachable fellow, I have to admit. I buy seeds, I put them on a wet papercloth, I heat them, I watch to see them sprout - then I imagine I'd plant them outside, only to have some rowdy kids nick my buds.

Why is there so much goddamned gravel and sand on my lawn. I mean seriously snow plow dude, absolutely chill with rearranging my entire lawn situation, I'm not trying to fill a sandbox. The nerve. And watch those goddamn orange stakes I put in, I'm trying to help you, for chrissakes.

Now, I do like Japanese beetles, is that so bad? And wasps, although one just bit me (seriously it did. No like right now, it did on the hand and hurt like a hammer.) Wait, ok that was like thirty minutes ago and now I'm realizing it didn't hurt that bad and I should up and whoop some kickass on those hibernating mofos.

You put pest spray down, then they fertilize. So they put more pest spray down, which they then fertilize again. You get the idea. There are handouts of course more to the pest man, more to the gardener. Everyone's in on it, it's a fantastic game business.

I once had this bizarre gardening situation. My carrots, they were massive. I mean orange like Tang and a friggin' baby's arm in length. And my broccoli, whoo you shoulda seen it. A green giant. Would have won in any farm competition in six counties. Oh yea, and my eggplant were frigging popping off the vines right into my mouth. No really, in my mouth (I was on all fours).

Is there a reason the trash guy only comes when he feels like it? Sometimes I sense he's judging my trash, like oh I'll take this and not that, because I'm not into that. I'm not sure what that is, here. Are you?

Wait, that, that? In your trash?

Dude, you gotta get your head checked.

I am aware of the neighbors, and they of me. One has a goddamn net over their pool, I mean bug freak or what? Ok, the other snoops around to see if our bushes grow over his property line, so he calls up and says, get rid of that goddamn Great Oak - which is on the other side of the house entirely.

Why is it you can blow leaves but they can never blow you?

So I guess you should get rid of the Oak. And wash your hands before you come into dinner, the stink on you.