My Girl is Getting Her Grass Mowed by her Ex.

Here I sit. On the couch... in the AC. I'm contemplating a trip to the store for a nice 1.5 inch thick piece of heaven. Strip or Porterhouse? Life is good. But as I look out of the window I have nothing but contempt. Out of the window is the lawn. It's mowed, but not edged. Most people would be happy. I'm not. You see, my girlfriend, the Hellcat, lets her ex cut the grass.

He's a great guy and he lives pissing-distance away. I should be happy. This is one less thing for me to do. But I can't be happy. Because he's satisfying MY woman. She sees the grass and smiles. He may as well be tapping the ass by the way she acts. She throws it in my face. He's dependable in ways I'm not she says. While she says this the sound gets turned down. I'm ready for a full-on "Tommy Gavin." I'm too much Man too let Hellcat's ex cut the grass! Kill. Hate. Destroy. Feel The Rage pump through my veins. I want to go outside and scream. Then rip down the neighbors rainbow flag. Then pillage. Then listen too Ted Nugent. But suddenly I realize it's hot and it's just fucking grass.

Maybe I'll have some creamed spinach with my steak. Life is good.