Uhmm...

...is it a bad thing that I have a "crush" on a character in a comic strip?

No, not the guy--Sam, the *hawt* redhead. Another favorite, just for my bud Rob, if he's reading:

Of course, no comic strip character could hold a candle to my lovely wife (love ya, honey!), but it's clear Chris Muir has an appreciation for the female form and a gift of being able to render it. And he's funny. And conservative. And I want to be just like him when I grow up.

For a witty read on his time in Iraq, check out his embed report. You can also check out the rest of the Day by Day strips by clicking on the panel that appears at the bottom of this finely crafted blog. Ok, commercial's over--we now return to a regularly scheduled programming.

Slacker

slack·er /ˈslækər/ - [slak-er]
–noun

1. a person who evades his or her duty or work; shirker.
2. a person who evades military service.
3. an esp. educated young person who is antimaterialistic, purposeless, apathetic, and usually works in a dead-end job.
4. Me, when it comes to yard work, various household chores, and maintaining a blog.

While #3 has a certain familiarity with respect to my life (except the "young" and "antimaterialistic" parts), I had to add #4 for no other reason than I'm becoming vaguely aware of my neighbors' disdain for my lawn maintenance skills. I can tell because in the mumbling mutterings of my neighbors, the word slacker rings out loud and clear (and no, I'm not imagining this). It's not that I'm incompetent in the use of a lawnmower or a weedeater. I actually pride myself in my ability to push a lawnmower in a relatively straight line, and I've got "skillz" when it comes to edging. But in modern suburbia, where a man is measured by the greenness of his lawn, I suffer the daily humiliation of knowing the little old lady across the street has a green, weedless lawn--and I don't.

Of course in polite suburban society, people don't openly criticize a man's inability to grow grass. It's just not done. But behind the words of neighborly encouragement that "it'll green up after it rains" lies the unspoken sentiment "it better... or else." I'm not really too worried about the "or else" part because I'm bigger than they are, and worse comes to worst, I can swing Bryan around like a 35-pound mace (he likes that sorta thing). Still, I want to be a good neighbor, and being a good neighbor means being in tune with the neighborhood ethos. Around here that means eager participation in a weekly regimen of aeration, liming, fertilizing, mowing, raking, bagging, edging, pruning, clipping, and ritual sacrifice to the god known as Scotts, who makes all things heavenly green with his gift of Turf Builder®. Problem is, I'm just too damn lazy. Too apathetic. Too much a slacker.

Oh, and I'd like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to my second reader, Scott (no, not the god). Scott has been my partner in crime and academic underachievement since the third grade. A better friend no man can find. Hi Scott!