WTF Wednesday is back.
Like Montezuma's revenge.
A few weeks ago, the neighbors down the street were having work done in their yard.
I had been in and out all day, playing with kids in the front yard, errands whatever.
I'm standing in my yard, enjoying my birds of paradise or weeds of last years whatever,
when I hear shouting.
I look over and see an older man, around 55-60, shouting, dropping the F word like it is hot.....with an australian accent. He is shouting at an Eastern Indian man, who claims "F~ You, F~ This, I am effing doing ten times the work of you, you F~!" also in an australian accent.
I, of course, am just slightly WTF....
I just realized that the air has just been massacred by F bombs, Crocidile Dundee style, and while I have been known to let a little F~ word slip out here and there,- more often like here, but who's counting- this poetic fury of F~ words was insane. Like an F5 tornado. Tons of yelling and cussing. I of course, crouch like a ninja with a maxi dress on, and like all ninja's do, peer over the patio fence between the palm tree, so I can watch this thunder train wreck from down under take place. All of a scary ass sudden, I see bodies scuffling and shoving and I hear a huge BANG of metal clanging. And then a young black male who might be like 16, comes running out into the street, yelling....you guessed it- in an AUSTRALIAN accent.
Now I am super WTF......
The old man with a huge Santa Claus beard with a hair style made famous by Shaggy on Scooby Doo, is now running, into the street, chasing the dumpster that he had punched. I have my hand on phone, not to call 911, but to enter myself into the witness protection program, because I have seen one too many Law and Orders and I know what happens to nosy housewives that witness dumpster diving. Just as I am changing my name to Gertie Grazniowkc, and changing my address to Iceland- just so I can make sure I get my trashy mags forwarded- I see a little boy standing on the street corner, staring.
The boy looks at the old man Shaggy who is trying to hold the dumpster from rolling, the Indian man who is still cussing and holding a shovel trying to put it under the wheels, and the young man who is now sitting in the bed of the truck watching. They are yelling and then I hear a little voice say "Hi."
Silence falls, Shags moves his sweaty nasty hair out of his foul mouthed face and says...."Uh hi fella."
Looking like true jackholes, not one of them utters a single word, and they spend the next hour trying to move the dumpster back into the driveway.
I have no idea where you hire such an oddball labor company, and I don't know if they do good work, but if I ever wanted to say an effective "F~ you" with an Australian accent, I'm sure I could.