Monday, October 24, 2011


Farming is hard. And I picked a bad time to start - right now. I mean, sheesh, you'd think I'd get some result after watering seeds for a week. It's been a whole week! But no such luck. Still waiting on my boston baked beans to sprout.

I admit I'm a novice, but I should get at least get an A for effort. Am I not owed that? I am! Give me whatever I think I deserve! Also that A should come in the form of a candy tree. That would be justice. Goddammit Earth, you owe me at least that.

And to be fair, a whole lot of other things too. You owe me a kitchen with a real stove in it, not this gas-blowing, make-you-pass-out-from-gas-inhalation machine I have now. Also my landlord owes me that. That's the law.

You owe me a really great song about me. I've been at this for a week! I want the lyrics to be, "Ron Ron Ron, you're so great. Everybody else can suck an egg. Dadada, leg." Or something. I don't know. I'm no Nelly Furtardo. Just make it inspire people to commit world peace or something. It's important I'm remembered as inspiring and a hero. "Ron Ron Ron, what have you done. Being so peaceful and dadada gun." Maybe find something that rhymes better than gun. Like I said - your job. My job is to farm nutritious and sweet beans.

And last but not finally, you owe me a mountain of spaghetti, because I would say a lifetime of spaghetti, but I don't want it to be all spaced out in little small parts over a lifetime. I want it all now, dammit.

But back to farming. Let me get on point: you all owe me. At least a vacation to Maui or something. Or at least a waterpark in Wisconsin with a Maui theme - you know, Mauiconsin, or Mauiconsinland - the more affordable but still adequate Mauiconsin. I've put in my time. You owe me at least a Wiscation.

Did you know salted peanuts do not grow more salted peanuts when planted? Turns out they just salt the earth, which apparently is not a good thing. I thought, "Mmm, salted earth! Sounds tasty like Ruffles!" Boy was I wrong. Tastes more like Pringles.

Anyway, my point with farming is this: horse poop may be a good fertilizer and often free, so don't overpay for it. And you don't need to "see how it feels" to know if it's good. Don't be stupid, just taste it. That's "seeing how it feels" with your tongue. More productive.

And let me warn you: it tastes god-awful. Just terrible. It's the taste equivalent of having your wang slammed in a minivan door.

So that's farming.

1 comment:

  1. I Know what you mean! I've had Zima bottles sitting in the purest of volcanic super soil for at least a year now! Not only will they not fill themselves, No "Women of Loose Morals" HAVE COME ANYWHERE NEAR THE HOUSE! I thought that stuff attracted those types like Loose women on Mike's Hard Lemonade. The skittles I Planted to go in said Zima are doing just fine. Fine, indeed. Just Nevermind. God, I'm so lonely. Maybe if I get a talking parrot I can finally dig out of this cavernous hole of self pity!