So, as much as I like to make fun of people with mullets, I have a terrible confession to make: I had, what I would like to call, a “yard mullet.” That’s right…traditional mullets are, by definition, all business in the front and party in the back, as can be seen by my yearbook photo below:
Anyway, my yard has been living the “mullet lie” for quite some time; I’ve been keeping the front yard really short and well-groomed, primarily to avoid the home-owner association Nazis, while allowing the back yard to grow into an urban grassland.
I really never noticed the yard mullet until one of my friends (the same one whose go-cart I flipped) came over with his dog. We decided to introduce my friend’s dog to my two border collies, so we went in the back yard, where the grass easily touched our upper shins. My friend’s dog, Buddy, warmly introduced himself to my male dog, Banjo, by momentarily mounting him before sprinting off and disappearing, like a scared gazelle, into a large patch of grass.
Not being able to find Buddy, I decided that the grass needed to be cut; perhaps this could flush Buddy out, just like when Americans shaved off their mullets in the early 90s in an effort to locate their lost dignity (note: rednecks still have not found their dignity). I ended up cutting the grass and found Buddy and the same sense of satisfaction that Mario Lopez felt when A.C. Slater finally shaved off his mullet.