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?

The Immigration Debacle Has Hit Way Too Close To The Infidel Home

Apparently all roads lead to the Infidel backyard for a certain downtrodden undocumented immigrant who elected to escape their festering and blighted homeland in search of a place where they can bring their young to thrive and grow.

Many government officials believe that by simply constructing a border fence you can stem the tide of illegal immigration, but this is simply not true. The ones invading our backyard have thwarted all boundary markers and fencing by cleverly burrowing under to make it to the other side. In some instances the illegals went right through the narrow cracks in the fence in a desperate attempt to survive.

Every year, their numbers swell to greater heights, too. What started as a few rogue travelers has metastasized into an entire colony right in the back corner of the Infidel homestead.

We're a charitable family, so we do make sure to give water to our uninvited guests so that they may better withstand working all day out underneath the blazingly-hot Houston sun. But there's a price for our kindness. We silently watch and wait as their skin grows ever darker. When the time is right we bring them inside....... and then we squeeze them dry.

See, that's the price they pay for coming into our yard with Green Leaves aplenty but no discernible Green Card........


Here's a Sampling Picture Of The Latest Illegal Round-Up On The Infidel Ranch. The Prisoners Are First Detained, Then Questioned, De-Seeded, And Promptly Eaten For Their Trespassing Crimes.

This Is The Virtually Uninhabitable Land Of Their Birth That Lies Yonder From Our Property Into Neighboring Territories. Who Can Really Blame Them For Fleeing This Cluttered Pit In Search Of An Infidel Sanctuary?

Two Years Ago We Encountered A Few Strays Along The Border. They Must Have Gone Back Home And Told Their Families They Found The Promised Land In Our Backyard Because This Year They Stretch From One Fence Post To Another. Their Migratory Pattern Looks Like They're Heading Northwards. I Found A Berry Growing By The Back Door Which Confirmed My Suspicions. Neil Diamond Is Probably Somewhere Encouraging Them By Singing "Everywhere Around The World, Keep Coming To The Infidel. Got A Dream To Take Them There, Keep Coming To The Infidel....TODAY!"

And Here's One Of Our Specially Trained Border Patrol Agents. We Warned Our Agent About Coddling And Handling The Detainees Without Special Protective Gear But She Refused To Listen......

I Guess She'll Just Have To Learn The Hard Way Like I Did That These Suckers Ain't Giving Up Without A Fight!

We Also Have To Contend With This Coyote Who's Determined To Hamper Our Round-Up Efforts By Promising The Trespassers Safe Passage And Then Smuggling Them Away.....In His Mouth!

I'm concerned that I'll face serious repercussions for posting this. I even run the risk of being brought up on double agent charges, but illegal immigration has proved beneficial for us by providing low-cost and flavorful meal supplements. I hope they all return next year!

Wow, I Didn't Know You Could Get That In A Giant Economy Pack!

This post is sashaying about flirtatiously right on my self-imposed boundary lines of decency. However, I can no longer quell the constant internal dialogue that strikes up within me whenever I bear witness to the pervasive fugliness on display in this yard. If you're easily offended, this is an opportune time to go catch up on your Smurf latch-hook pillow project you've been working on for the past 25 years.


Behold The Wicked Light Fixtures Lighting Up The Forbidden Path:And Here's The Up Close And Personal And In Yo Face Zoom Version:

Upon further scrutiny with my steely Infidel eyes, all I could think was hoooooollllyyyy crrrraaaapppp, when did the adult novelty stores add a lawn & garden department?

Look, I'm all for dual-function products to optimize efficiency and practicality but these yard lights are careening down a very slippery slope. There's some dark crevices where a light just shouldn't be shone into unless you're a practicing physician. I don't even want to think about the crossover potentials of this kind of perversion. What's next, pulsing, vibrating flashlights for your annual family camp-out? And the very worst part is that while these lawn lights with their solar-charged batteries may be eco-friendly and all, but do we really, honestly want to live in a world where people brazenly flaunt their personal toys right out in the front yard during broad daylight like this?

I think I heard the homewoner somewhere behind the beveled-glass front door crooning the main chorus to You Light Up My Life as I stealthily snapped this picture. Putting the "bedroom" in "bedroom community." Shazam!

I've been a bad, bad girl. I know. I'm ashamed. I need to be punished. You should get out the velevet whi.........oh wait, what you should really do is click right here on this banner for me. It's a secret petition to stop the manufacturers of ugly yard lights. CLICKETY! Gracias.

The Smiling Infidel Wants To Play Games With You:Guess That Movie Title!

In this picture are two completely unrelated items. Well, at least they're completely unrelated where I live. Maybe pelicans in your area do happen to prance around wearing underwear. I'm no ornithologist, so I don't really know.

So, to the best of your ability, can you guess the name of the movie this photo represents?

On a side note, I do feel kind of bad for creeping up into these people's yard in broad daylight just to violate their beloved pelican in this way. I mean, it's nothing more than a spiffy lawn tchotchkie. It's not a super bad stunt pelican nor is it a panty model for Pelican's Secret.

I can assure you that the landscaping crew laboring next door took quite an interest in my snappy little photo shoot. As I left, I looked back and noticed them still leaning against their rakes and mowers with heads cocked to the side and faces filled with pure, unadulterated WTF??!!? sentiments. Como se dice "WTF?" en Espanol, por favor? Hey, it was really chilly out today! I did that pelican a favor by warming him up with a versatile and toasty hat/shawl combo.
And this is the picture that the pelican never wanted you to see.........Hopefully he'll start attending Pelican Panty Sniffers Anonymous soon and kick this most egregious habit. I know that his obsession with knickers led to a hit movie with two A-list actors and all, but we're not living in 1993 anymore. It's time to give up the briefs, already.If humor-blogs.com ever makes a movie you can bet your sweet bippy that it'll be chock full of panty-wearin/panty-sniffin pelicans.

Gardening Techniques For Beauty School Dropouts

Every single day of my young life I spend my pre-dawn hours driving around a very chic neighborhood steeped in stately opulence. Some of these people have so many driveways circling their home I don't even know which one to throw the newspaper at when they request "Driveway Service." I always take mental note of emerging fads along with who got their Mercedes hitched up and towed away in the dark of night by the repo man. So anyway, know what the hottest trend in Houston home and garden decor is right now- well aside from hiring illegal landscapers and pretending you didn't know they were illegal when you run for re-election.........

Garden Club Snobs have officially endorsed the Chia Pet mailbox treatment as the 'must have accessory' this season. Chia Pet mailbox owners lovingly sculpt and manicure the continuously sprouting mass into a brilliantly green and unmistakable FRO style that accentuates their arched brick boxes. Personally I'd be worried about small critters taking up residence in the bush around my box. Maybe that's just me, though.

The house pictured above is situated on a small cul-de-sac featuring handsome homes all newly outfitted with a grouping of their very own FRO-styled mailboxes. It looks suspiciously like they're paying homage to the Jackson Five.

I constantly have to fight the urge to bring my own hedge clippers with me to start modifying the mailbox shrubbery. I'd love to slice one up and give it a Mr. T mohawk. Or trim a few sprigs up front and leave the back alone for a good old-fashioned bushy mullet. Maybe even butcher the whole dang thing in an effort to re-create Britney Spears mid-2007 clean-shaven look.

It's times like these that I have to ask myself WWESD? What Would Edward Scissorhands Do?

*humor-blogs.com would love the opportunity to come and tame your unruly bush*

Hang Em' High:The Pink Flamingo Version

And then when my eyes bore solemn witness to the macabre scene left behind on the grounds of the secret Plastic Flamingo Gallows- a cry of anguish escaped my pursed lips and burst slowly forth, punctuating the eerie silence. Despondently, I tallied up the carnage of those who had met the wrong end of the noose this fateful autumnal eve.

Since when does decorating your yard with the always delightfully-kitschy plastic pink flamingo constitute a capital offense? Who made these people judge, jury, and executioner that they could play Flamingo Hangman like this? Maybe the Homeowners Association President lives here, and he's trying to send a message out to any and all who dare landscape with flamboyant flamingo panache--Do it, and the flamingo gets it. Capiche?

Well, if we're going to punish abhorrent tackiness and fug in such an appalling manner, I move to take down A Flock Of Seagulls before targeting a Flock Of Flamingos. We must also stop to consider all the sad and lonely garden gnomes bereft of their flamingo companionship. Won't you please think of the gnomes?!? Stop the senseless flamingo violence today for a better flamingo tomorrow.....

*No Flock Of Seagulls Were Harmed In The Making Of This Post Because They Ran, They Ran So Far Away. And They Ran, They Ran All Night And Day.....*

The Smiling Infidel Word Of the Day

Okay, class. Our super special word for today is:
Toiletries
Toiletries: A sacred, self-fertilizing tree that grows bountiful toilet harvests every year. Money doesn't grow on trees--but toilets sure do!

Word History: American folklore tells of an instrumental figure that aided in the spread of Toilet Trees by roaming the countryside and taking dumps in a most uncivilized manner. The trees soon sprang up from his stomping dumping grounds. That man was none other than Johnny Crapperseed, which is why we call toilets 'Johns' in honor of him.

*Special Thanks To NCS For Her Abundance Of Photoshop Cleverness. I Love The Way The Toilets Are Hung With Gaily Colored Ribbons Like Christmas Ornaments. I May Want To Do My Christmas Tree With A Toilet Theme This Year Thanks To Inspiration From NCS! Gracias.*

Just Your Typical, Everyday, Ordinary, Run-Of-The-Mill Garden Variety Needles...

Occasionally I do enjoy a good poke......just not from needles. I'm ashamed to admit that I've engaged in conduct most unbecoming for a self-proclaimed ardent conservative. You see, my neighbor and I have established an impromptu Needle Exchange Program right in the heart of our blissfully serene H-town suburb.

People outside our fair city can't begin to fathom the extent of our needle problems here. We constantly find unsightly piles of the filthy things all over our yards, driveways, and curbs. They're sharp little suckers too-thus preventing us from walking around outside barefoot. Gradually, I began to notice my neighbor slyly moving the dirty needles off his lawn and onto mine. Well, I'd return the favor with a blow job from our leaf blower. Heavens no, did you really expect me to touch needles with my delicate Infidel hands? And so, the silent, ritualistic Dance Of The Needle Exchange has continued over the past few years, ebbing and flowing with the bounty of discarded..........









PINE needles from our yards. Crap. Cleaning up the endless stacks of fallen pine needles is such a gigantic pain in the patootie. It's like a freakin Pine-Needle-Palooza around here! I always love it when my inconsiderate neighbor negligently forces me to scoop up all his tree debris too. I'm a very mature adult role model to my children for saying, "Oh yeah? Oh yeah??!!!!? Well, TWO can play that game, buddy!" while chucking his crusty pine needles back at him along with a few of my own. Instead of pining away about the situation, maybe I should just ruthlessly needle him about his errant behavior?

Fertilize This!

Look at me. Look at how happy I am. Nothing makes me feel more fulfilled than fertilizing the weeded jungle that is my yard. I just can't get enough of it. Whenever I catch sight of my super duper special fertilizer spreader, my smile just grows ever broader. I practically prance joyfully as I push around my lethal weapon on wheels and listen to the plaintive cries of the weeds as I crush the life out of them.
Ummm, no. That's not really me. Truthfully, I would never garden in a clean and starchly pressed button down shirt. Who does that? Wouldn't wearing a belt impede bending over to do the nasty deeds involved with gardening? And look at that lady, you just know that she's only giving a cheesy smile for her big photo op and as soon as her moment in the flashing gardening paparazzi sun is over, she'll drop that fertilizer spreader like a hot potato and relinquish control of it back over to Jose and his landscaping crew that has dutifully tended her yard for the past two years. Hey, I'm just here to keep it real. For real, y'all.

So, how much of a lazy gardener am I? Well, I waited until a forecast of torrential rain before I dragged my mardy bum out to the garage to pull out our fertilizer spreader that only sees the light of day twice a year. You see, I didn't want to have to fertilize and water it into the yard too. Crap, what do you think I am? A gardening machine? No, better to let nature take care of the watering part. Here's where it gets good. My little monkey spawn, eager to escape the confines of the house, begged me to set them free with a promise of helping out in the yard. I told those little barefooted heathens that they better put on some shoes first. I squatted down in the yard and waited patiently for them to emerge from the house. They all burst happily through the front door and then just stopped, mid-step, to stare at me. My oldest daughter, Sunbum, screwed up her face, and asked me what I was doing. I told her simply, "Just fertilizing the yard without using environmentally damaging chemicals, honey. It's the Al Gore endorsed way." I then waved to the rest of my underage landscaping team, saying ,"Come on, you guys better hurry up and squat down to do your business too. We have a lot of ground to cover here."

And that, parents, is how you take crap from your children and use it to your advantage.

Birds Of A Feather

I have perfectly altruistic motives for wanting to win the neighborhood, "Yard Of The Month", contest. You see, the grand prize winner receives a princely sum to a local plant nursery, in the form of a gift certificate. I have that money earmarked for something special.

You can witness for yourself, from the rather exploitive photo, that our pink flamingos befell an unspeakable tragedy that spared life but took limb. My charity to raise funds for them, came up woefully short. They're increasingly hypersensitive about it too. Whenever the pantyhose commercial plays, with the tag line, "Nothing Beats A Great Pair Of L'EGGS", they whimper. We can't even enjoy our EGGO waffles for breakfast anymore because they grow petulant when we proclaim, "LEGgo my EGGO"! They tried to use their miniscule bird brains to argue with me about this, but alas, they just don't have a leg to stand on.

If I'm less than victorious in my plight for a gift certificate for my flamingos, then perhaps I could count on your sponsorship. With your generous gift, I can purchase at least one leg for my fine feathered friends. Then, they'll have a decent shot at marrying into the lap of luxury with an aging rock star. Please, won't you think of the flamingos???

Pride And Prejudice (The Smiling Infidel Version)

These pictures reveal the culprit as to my erratic blogging ways this past week. I've been mowing, digging, weeding, planting, watering, fertilizing, and waging a fight to the death against predatory fire ants. All accomplished while working directly under the scorching sun, and in temperatures reaching the mid 90's.

My secret hope is to finally win the long coveted prize of, "Yard Of The Month", but competition around here is cut-throat. Most of our neighbors hire professional landscaping services to put in their planters and keep up their weekly yard maintenance. We're probably the poorest folks in the whole neighborhood. Consequently, I take care of our yard by myself, with occasional assistance from my own amateur crew of six kids, who handle minimal gardening, mosquito swatting, and lemonade fetching duties.

Papi takes great delight in telling people that he's a Mexican man that has a white lady taking care of his yard. Then he smiles and mentions how he's an integral part in obliterating stereotypes one at a time. Whatever.