The Smiling Infidel Gardening Club Prize Patrol Is On The Loose.........You May Already Be A Winner!

Now, I'm not one of those types that crawls around on the lawn-magnifying glass in hand-examining each blade of grass, but I do take some pride in the outward appearance of our humble little abode we've dubbed 'The Infidel Estate'.

Lately we've found ourselves on the receiving end of a flurry of correspondence from our cantankerous Homeowner's Association. I'm an undying optimist. Every time a new letter from our beloved H.O.A makes a grand appearance in our mailbox, my heart starts to flutter wildly. I always assume that it can only mean good things are headed our way after 12 years of living in this sub par neighborhood and that the H.O.A is finally going to award us the prize of prizes........the honor of honors.......the glory of glories.......YARD OF THE MONTH!

Alas, it usually states things like "we plan to notify our Attorney if your yard is not brought into compliance with our deed restrictions in a timely manner."

So just what constitutes Yard-Of-The-Month-Worthiness to the esteemed members of our H.O.A?

Well, judging from last month's winner, the H.O.A deems pickle-inspired landscaping as the most praiseworthy yard design our subdivision has to offer.
(Oh please, this lackluster yard would so not even make it as the Greenhouse Green Of The Month centerfold. Ever.)

You know, I'm a good person. I don't need any green thumb approval from a snit-picky band of bunchy-butt biddies who go around reeking of compost pile perfume. No, I refuse to play their cucumber shrub mind games!

Since I wasn't born with a silver trowel in my hand, I'll never be invited to join their snarling neighborhood pack of Miracle Gro sniffers. I knew that if I wanted the elusive award, I'd have to forge my own path to victory.

I wasn't content with a ho-hum Yard Of The Month sign-because really, any ambitious fool with a vat of chinch bugs and a gallon of bleach to decimate their neighbor's lawn can win that. I opted instead to create a shining beacon to my Yard Conquistador awesomeness........I'm the proud owner of this one-of-a-kind YARD OF THE MILLENNIUM sign! Yay!

In my excitement to display the signage hailing us as grand masters of the lawn&garden utopia world, I accidentally soiled myself.

It wasn't my fault. That special gardening soil I use in my award winning planters is tricky stuff.

We're compassionate Conquistadors. So it seemed only right that we should share our bounteous blessings with others. Me and the mini-Infidels piled into the truck and set forth on a mirthful mission to bring a small piece of prize-winning joie de vivre to the masses.

One look at this planter featuring a gigantic ant mound-teeming with fiery hot contestants from the Miss Fire Ants In Your Pants pageant-and we knew that we had found the grand prize winner of our Sexiest Fire Ants category. Congratulations!

Snoop Dogg is a knowledgeable authoritarian on the history, evolution, and crop value of the almighty weed. I'm just a lowly emissary of the prestigious Snoop Dogg Garden Society........ but I'm positive that he'd approve of these homeowners who chose to go with a Weed, Weed, And More Weed landscaping plan for their yard. They also took top honors for their enticing pot strategically placed a mere footsteps away from their front door; for easy pot access, no doubt.

Notice that Weird Al is featured on this sign with ebullient rays of light surrounding him as though he's an omnipotent presence? Weird Al offered his divine inspiration as he informed me of his desire to share the Whiter-Than-Sour Cream award with a worthy individual. Despite spending day-after-day in the blistering Houston sun, our lawn jockey winner has never burned. He remains a whiter shade of pale and for that we commend him and his homeowner handlers. Good Job!

(I found out later that a local tanning bed place offers special Lawn Jockey discounts. Apparently our supposedly squeaky clean whitey winner was a former client of this establishment. Scandalous!)

Who better to represent the Best Undead Lily prize than the world's foremost recognized Undead Lily, Lily Munster?

My lilies croaked off into an early death this year. Happily by the dawn of spring they'll resurrect themselves and rise forth, pushing up through the fertile soil to live amongst us once more. LILY ZOMBIES!!!!!!

I'm not insinuating that these homeowners are practicing some kind of ritualized chicken bone Lily Voodoo. It is rather odd though that nobody else around here can keep their lilies alive past June- and yet, these lilies are still thriving at the end of July. Hmmmmm. They're lucky that the H.O.A doesn't demand that they be burned on suspicion of gardening witchcraft.

Our celebrity spokesperson, Big Bird makes no secret of the fact that he likes to watch the chickadees shake their tail feathers down at the Bird Bath Cabaret whenever he's on a filming break from Sesame Street. He never tires of telling the naive, young swallows, "Hey baby, do you wanna know the real reason why they call me Big Bird?"

On hot summer days, this exquisite bird bath masterpiece-crafted of the finest concrete- becomes more like a Bird Jacuzzi, just ready to host a full-blown bird bath bonanza. (R.S.V.P to Robin or Jay)

What lucky person wouldn't want a sign telling the world that Presidential nominee, Barack Obama loves their bush??!!? We awarded this fetching congratulatory masterpiece to the owners of a most gorgeous Esperanza Bush-filled with an insane amount of vibrant yellow blooms. You see, Esperanza means "HOPE" in Spanish......and Senator Obama is all about spreading messages of "HOPE", right? He even wrote a best-selling book with "HOPE" featured prominently in the title. Well, this bush is hopeful hopefulness at its most hope-inducing. It's unfortunate that it doesn't have anything else to offer beyond physical beauty and a shallow promise of hope.

This is likely the only time in history you'll ever witness Obama declaring his love for a Bush in Texas. :)

If you weren't one of the lucky winners this year, don't despair. We plan on making this an annual event. I don't have enough money to start up a philanthropic society but at least I'm doing a little something to give back to our local community. I wonder if I can claim posterboard and markers as a tax write-off since it was used for charitable purposes?

Infidel Love Fest 2007

I write The Smiling Infidel to keep my brain muscles from further atrophying after years of hard core Barney watching and ingesting straight-up, pure grade Pixie Stix granules. It's also a clearinghouse for all the strange ideas shelved on the cheap, particle board bookcases lining the annals of my mind- Ideas just sitting there gathering dust and plotting their escape. When The Smiling Infidel was birthed nearly two years ago, they could finally stretch and see the light of day. Most people who stumbled across the newly unleashed ideas, went all slack-jawed and horrified at the sight of such irreverent and naughty little things, and they ran away as fast as their legs could carry them. But others saw the ideas, and it made them smile. They chose to reach out their hands and lovingly stroke the ideas which feed directly into the Infidel ego.

I'll admit it, I like the recognition and awards I've received lately. I want to line em' all up, throw em' on the bed, and roll around on em' Indecent Proposal style-Yes, that's just how much I love these awards. But more than anything, I love you guys for continuing to bolster my spirits and keep me from giving in to frequent thoughts of blog termination with your great comments. I'd like to finally shed my ungrateful heathen outer layer by showing a little appreciation and thankfulness.
I wrote about Chutzpah:The World's First Jewish Rap Supergroup last year. They must have liked what I had to say. They liked it so much they took a snapshot of the post HERE, and put it on their press page above such names as Gary Oldman and Debbie Harry. Oy Vey!
They also made this little linkie and slapped it alongside their reviews from Billboard, Yahoo Music, and MTV. Thanks Chutzpah. I lift my gentile spoon of matzoh ball soup towards you in Kosher Tribute!
BURG nominated me for this. And Wynne seconded her motion. Thanks ladies.

Jams O'Donnell forwarded the love he received on his blog to me. This is the only kind of love I'll accept from another man. I'm a good girl. Thanks Jams. Suzanne and Nancy bestoweth the honoreth of making them smileth uponeth me. I already have the Barry Manilow, 'Can't Smile Without You' award......I think these two will make a handsome pair in my trophy case. Thanks Suzanne and Nancy.
Lisa thinks that Nice Matters. She's right, of course--Nice, France is a very exciting tourist destination located along the French shoreline. Thanks Lisa.

Radioactive Jam wanted to call me a floozy, but did the gentlemanly thing and gave me a 'Schmoozy' award instead. Thanks RAJ.The most surprising news of the week came when the noted LDS magazine, Segullah picked up The Smiling Infidel blog feed along with some of my other favorite bloggy friends. I'm beyond thrilled and thinking the reason behind such a move may be to show that not all LDS women are Work And The Glory-quoting, Tater Tot Casserole-toting scrapbookers- Not that there's anything wrong with that. Some of us are a little bit 'quirkier' than the status quo, but we love our religion just as much. Thanks Segullah.

Look at me giving all this thanks a full two months before Thanksgiving. Practice makes perfect.

Show Your Newspaper Carrier A Little R-E-S-P-E-C-T And In Turn We Won't Pee On Your Paper

I'll never win the coveted Newspaper Carrier Of The Year Award, but that's okay with me, because revenge is sweeter than some crappy little trophy with my name scrawled across it. The photographer obviously used newspaper carrier stunt doubles, because, believe me, I've never seen anyone smiling like that down at the warehouse.

Some Houston Chronicle subscribers feel the need to whine, cry, and moan incessantly about their newspaper. You would think that people had actual lives outside of complaining about a home delivery service that they get for mere pennies a day, but no. Every day customers in the district call in to the complaint hotline using their snottiest voice, "I want my paper tied to the front door handle because I'm a laaaawwwwyer." WTH? Who cares if you're a doctor or a lawyer? Why do you have such low self-esteem that you need to lord your title over a little peon newspaper carrier? During Hurricane Rita last year, I promise this is true, people called in hysterical that they didn't get a paper. Ummm, Houston received dire predictions and an evacuation order to clear the city. Just north of here, people died, and had all their worldly possessions ripped away from them, and you're worried about a frickin disposable newspaper? This district has a lot of economically privileged people living in it and the constant barrage of asinine requests tend to reflect that. I swear some of them won't feel the warm glow of customer satisfaction until I march their paper right into their over-priced, under-insulated, mini mansions, and plop down at the kitchen table to read it to them and show them all the pretty pictures.

One particular guy on my route wins the 'A-Hole Of The Year' Award. Of course, the most demanding subscribers also never give a word of praise or thanks. They never give a tip at Christmas, and they never smile or wave cheerfully at you when you pass by. I started this route to help out with the bills when Papi went back to school a few years ago, and this butthead sobbed his little eyes out at the time that he absolutely HAD to have his paper by 5:00 A.M. That's a full 30 minutes before the allotted weekday delivery deadline of 5:30. So really, I made him a favour out of the kindness of my heart. Last October, a tornado touched down a mile from my route while I was still out throwing. The wind and the torrential rains proved severe enough to flood out the streets of the neighborhood, thus stranding me for about 30 minutes. Mr. A-Hole called in 6 times to complain that he hadn't gotten his paper at 5:00. Seriously. Okay, impassable streets, whirling tornadic activity, one sad and pathetic, dripping wet newspaper lady stuck in the middle of it all, and he's only worried about HIS newspaper? Where do people find this misguided sense of entitlement that they should have everything they want, when they want it, and damn everybody else? I began throwing his paper whenever I felt like as a form of protest, but he took his endless complaining to the boss of my boss. In a perfect world, they would have told him to screw off because he signed a contract that promised him 5:30 delivery and nothing more. We don't live in a perfect world, and they acquiesced to his demands.

I suppose that poor unfortunate souls like me, stuck in crappy circumstances because we depend on the money that our menial labor provides, just sucks up the negative and learns to bear it. However, I've started extracting revenge in small doses that satisfies the primal urge in me that wants to go and toilet paper his house and spray paint salacious things on his truck. I'm greeted every day by him standing outside scowling at me with his arms crossed. If it's 5:01, he impatiently taps his watch and shakes a disapproving finger at me. He requested sidewalk delivery. I make sure to throw it as far as possible from wherever he's standing so he has to move his mean azz to go and pick it up and feel the sting of inconvenience. It shows him that he's not the boss of me, no! I'm a wild flower of the night that can't be controlled by his dictatorial ways. The top of each bundled section gets rumpled and ripped, so I usually discard them because it really isn't fit for delivery. Well, it's fit enough for his delivery. I save them all especially for him in a neat little stack on the dashboard. I guess he made such a fuss about what time I delivered the paper, he doesn't want to hassle looking even more petty by whining about the actual physical condition. It's readable, I suppose, if you smooth out the wrinkles, and you don't mind shredded paper hanging off the corners. I get a sick sense of pleasure knowing I'm giving him the worst of the worst, bright and early, every single day.

I told my mom about all this. Understand, she's more demented than I will ever be. It just so happened that she was driving through the main thoroughfare in the neighborhood and she asked which house Mr.A-Hole lived in. I told her, and she started laughing really hard. Apparently, at that very moment, she felt the burning desire to gift his front yard with her Chik-Fil-A trash. Oh, she's so very bad. She now makes it a tradition to pass by his house and throw something whenever she's in the area. I love my mom.

Take heed and treat your newspaper carriers right or suffer the consequences!

Thinking Thinkers And The Thoughts That They Thunketh.....

See that shiny little award? My new Infidel blogging comrade, Slacker Mommy, picked me out specifically to receive this honor celebrating excellence in profound cerebral exercise. She said that my blog makes her think, but she declined to specify what exactly I make her think of. I shudder at the mere thought! So, in return I'm to play Haley Joel Osment for the day and 'Pay It Forward' to 5 more worthy blogs that induce deep thinking and potentially increases I.Q. points among their readers. Here's the rules, regulations, stipulations, good vibrations, excitation.............oh wait, that would be the Beach Boys. No, here's the guidelines laid out neatly in black and white on The Thinking Blog Awards. And now for the moment you've all been waiting for...........drum roll please..........here are the Infidel nominations for Super Thinky Awards.

Kimberly And Her Loftily Worded Ramblings

If you ever need a word savvy Scrabble partner to give the smack down to an excessively outre opponent, Kimberly's your chick. She can work in the grandest of 50 cent words into a post about diaper rash and princess costumes. Now, that takes talent! Besides, her blog could use a little more sidebar bling-bling. (Ha! Look at me, I used the word 'outre.')

jams o'donnell and The Poor Mouth

He's left, I'm right. He's vegetarian, I'm carnivorous. He's liberal, I'm conservative. He's cultured, I'm a heathen. He's not religious, I am. He has cats, I have a dog. They said that a blog relationship would be impossible and could never last. What fools! jams mixes it up with a nice assortment of music, art, photography, and jokes alongside more serious global scale topics, politics, and current events.

Julie at Mental Tesserae

She incorporates an extensive knowledge of art into her amazingly well crafted posts. Julie's ability to tie and bind centuries old artistic nuances to modern day life, is legendary. The whole month of December featured various paintings of Jesus as seen through the eyes of a myriad of painters from different eras and countries. Julie has a place in my blogroll as "Mental Tesserae-Makes Me Think," and I mean every word of it.

No Cool Story and her secrety Chanting Cult Of Mas Cowbell Followers

Wowing the blog world over with her impressive photo-shop skills and funny comments. Think you can outdo NCS and her mad skillz? I got two words for you......BRING IT!

Carrot Jello

She's my first real bloggy friend. We've known each other since the beginning of time. Well, since the beginning of our blogger time, anyway. She may eat straight from a can, and sport manly man-whiskers on her chin, but she's always a lady to me. I feel like I'm channeling Billy Joel right now.

So, go forth, young bloggers, git yo think groove on, and click the honoree links to discover blog joy and revel in the extreme happiness found therein.