Would you like to win a prize for submitting the funniest videotape to “America’s Funniest Home Videos”? It’s easy!! All you have to do is to bring your video camera to the House by the Parkway the next time I am setting out and adjusting the lawn sprinkler.

The sprinkler is one of those oscillating units that looks like this. It is situated on the business end of a twenty-foot, green, reptilian hose that is coiled and ready to strike with the turn of the spigot. Once pressurized with water, it shoots a couple dozen little streams of water as the “sprayers” lazily move back and forth, essentially carpet-bombing the lawn with little water bomblets.

Of course, placement of the water bomber is key. Too far in one direction and it waters the sidewalk, while placed too far in the other direction it waters the house. A wrong move in the third or fourth direction results in watering the my driveway or my neighbor’s driveway, to the exclusion of a good portion of the lawn. Knowing this, I call upon past experience and place the unpressurized device where I believe the lawn might be optimally carpet bombed. Once it is placed, I unleash the water pressure that sets the water widget in motion.

I always put it in the wrong place.

So, now the unit has to be moved. Prudence would dictate that the water be shut off before tangling ass with the water bomber. However, proving that past experience doesn’t necessarily result in learning, I always assume that I can move the damned thing while it is oscillating and somehow manage not to get doused.

I carefully time the oscillations and dash up to the water-throwing beast and pick it up, deftly turning the water-spouting unit towards the ground while I reposition it. So far, so good.

However, when I flip the unit over so that it can resume carpet bombing the lawn, its multiple jets invariably blast water into my face and douse me from head to sharona. Strangely enough, this always shocks the hell out of me, once again, leaving no doubt that learning often simply does not take place.

The worst part is worrying that any of my neighbors might have seen what a horse’s ass I am, or that they had their video cameras at the ready.