Friday, August 15, 2008

Farmer Ariah

I hate sitting in a box. I want to be tending tomato plants. I want to grow big fat green beans (half runners) and cook them in a pressure cooker (purchased from a WAL*MART Superstore!) with bacon.

I should have been a farmer. Who knew?

I want to live in a farm house surrounded by FIELDS with my hound dog and I guess a nice farmer husband (at some point). (This house will be no more than 20 minutes from the nearest WAL*MART Superstore and no more than 40 from the mall, however. I am not really a country girl. I just like the country.)

I'll pair dresses and cowboy hats (but not dresses and boots!). And I'll have some kind of financial partner who can like, understand all that stuff and make sure we don't run out of money while I plant things and drive a tractor and manage the hired Mexicans, with whom I'll have a great relationship and who will bring me HOME MADE TORTILLAS OMG (*faints*) on my birthday. And they'll teach me Spanish. And I'll send their kids to college. It'll rock.

I am on some kind of work-induced trip today, eh?

(I'm basing this pipe dream on visiting my relatives in Virginia. Only they live in the middle of Mount West Guam and employ Hondurans. But it'll basically be the same, only in Texas).

So, I hope that hiring Mexicans part didn't sound racist. I was just trying to highlight that this really is a silly stereotype-dream thing... (see, when I make these generalizations, I'm not really being serious, okay? I use them as devices to reveal my intentions/frame of mind, like, LOOK, I'm being RETARDED here, or some such thing) ...that and I really want the tortillas. OH MAN, real tortillas... lasldfuasdlfjlasdjflasjdflds *DIES*



Post a Comment

<< Home