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This is an oldie but a goodie. It's a...maybe a self sighting? I thought I was very resourceful and clever, but I'll let you decide.
Back in the day, when I was 17 and still living at home with the 'rents, we lived on a little dead-end side street. This street doesn't get plowed when it snows. It only gets street-sweeped maybe once a year (and this is in a forest with lots and lots of leaves that cover the road in the fall). No one cares about this street.
There's a little hill to get up at the end of the street, so when it snowed, we went and shoveled it ourselves. Now, while our street never saw any plow action, the street it connected to was a steep connecting road, and it was sanded religiously.
One day we'd gotten a fair amount of snow. It was my younger brother's turn first. He went out and spent an hour shoveling the end of the street. In that time, the plows on the other road had passed at least half a dozen times. I stayed indoors, drinking hot chocolate and playing video games.
After an hour, it was my turn. I was wearing a rather low-cut blouse, which I wore outside, because I am insane like that. After a mere five minutes, a plow approached. I was bent over, desperately chipping away at some ice on the street.
The plow passed. The plow backed up.
Plow driver: "Uh, hey there, you need that street plowed?"
Me: "Really? You'd do that for me? That would just be so nice!" *hair flick*
Plow driver plowed the street. I thanked him with my most saccharine smile and went back home.
Brother: "Aren't you supposed to be shoveling snow?"
Me: "I did! Go look outside!"
Brother: *looks out at street*
"MOOOOOOOOOM!!!!"
Mom: "How did you do that?"
Me: "Um...boobs?"
Mom: *looks at shirt* "You wore that outside?!?!"
Me: "Yes. And then I flirted with the snowplow driver and he plowed the street for me. So I guess I'm done!"
Mom: "That...just....I....you....well, at least we can get the cars out now. I'm not sure I approve of your methods, though."
Brother:
"I hate you."
And that is how I prefer to shovel snow!
Back in the day, when I was 17 and still living at home with the 'rents, we lived on a little dead-end side street. This street doesn't get plowed when it snows. It only gets street-sweeped maybe once a year (and this is in a forest with lots and lots of leaves that cover the road in the fall). No one cares about this street.
There's a little hill to get up at the end of the street, so when it snowed, we went and shoveled it ourselves. Now, while our street never saw any plow action, the street it connected to was a steep connecting road, and it was sanded religiously.
One day we'd gotten a fair amount of snow. It was my younger brother's turn first. He went out and spent an hour shoveling the end of the street. In that time, the plows on the other road had passed at least half a dozen times. I stayed indoors, drinking hot chocolate and playing video games.
After an hour, it was my turn. I was wearing a rather low-cut blouse, which I wore outside, because I am insane like that. After a mere five minutes, a plow approached. I was bent over, desperately chipping away at some ice on the street.
The plow passed. The plow backed up.
Plow driver: "Uh, hey there, you need that street plowed?"
Me: "Really? You'd do that for me? That would just be so nice!" *hair flick*
Plow driver plowed the street. I thanked him with my most saccharine smile and went back home.
Brother: "Aren't you supposed to be shoveling snow?"
Me: "I did! Go look outside!"
Brother: *looks out at street*
"MOOOOOOOOOM!!!!"Mom: "How did you do that?"
Me: "Um...boobs?"
Mom: *looks at shirt* "You wore that outside?!?!"
Me: "Yes. And then I flirted with the snowplow driver and he plowed the street for me. So I guess I'm done!"
Mom: "That...just....I....you....well, at least we can get the cars out now. I'm not sure I approve of your methods, though."
Brother:
"I hate you."And that is how I prefer to shovel snow!
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