So What?

I live in a small town in Wisconsin. 

If you’ve read this blog even once, you probably already know that.

But in case you actually doubt the validity of this statement, here is undeniable, irrefutable proof.  Because, seriously, who could make this stuff up?

I was driving home from work after a particularly stressful week.  So, instead of taking the usual highway home, I decided to take the more calming, scenic route through some country back roads.  As I was driving through the gorgeous, rolling, green hills of rural Wisconsin, I came over a hill…and had to slam on my brakes.

Why?

Because, in front of me, driving down the middle of the road at seven miles an hour was a man.  Driving a lawn mower.  He was listening to an iPod, drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon and smoking a cigar.

And I followed behind him.  For five long minutes because it was hilly and I couldn’t pass.  But who am I to judge?  Everyone celebrates their Friday in a different way, right?

You’re still a rock star, Mister.  Party hard.

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