I commented on Lethekk's Strawberry Post but thought you all might get a kick out of this too. I meant to post about it on Wednesday when it happened, but I'm so out of it these days what with the house trying to kill me and all the meatbonnet bullshit going on that it slipped my tired, little mind.

Knock Knock! Whos There? A FUCKING DOUCHE AND HIS DOUCHE WIFE!

So my family used to have a massive pick your own strawberry farm. Had it for years and years and years, like, a zillion years or some shit, but the labour and costs versus the profit fell out of whack (we were huge, sort of a big deal actually, but pick your own ain't makin anyone rich I tell you what.)

Now apparently coming to our farm was a Cherished Annual Summer Tradition for a lot of people and since we're so nice- we ran the fields at a loss for 2 years out of guilt or something. But the sentimental bullshit and warm fuzzies we got from doing everyone a solid by keeping the fields open sure as fuck wasn't worth the money it was costing us to do so. And so, despite heaps and scads of pleading grannies and not one, but TWO whole letters written to the local paper about how it was a crying shame that we wouldn't be growing berries for people to crawl all over and fondle any more: We ploughed every last one of those strawberry spewing fuckers under over 10 years back.

Its just a bunch of acres of grass now.


This picture shows a small part of what used to be the North Field. I was standing close to the middle when I took it. You can see its pretty much nothing but grass, plain old grass that only bears grass and certainly not a berry, strawberry or otherwise. We built a couple more little greenhouses on one end and threw 2 prefab houses up for my folks and my brother beside a massive irrigation pond on the the other end (those houses would be behind where I was standing when I took this.) And for you fish lovers: That pond I mentioned is somehow loaded, like stuffed to the tits, just throw a bare hook into the water and come out with a fish every time kinda loaded with Large Mouth Bass (we didn't put them there.) I feel bad for those fish because there are waaaaaaaay too many in there and if they are jumping at the chance to eat a bare hook they are huuuuungry. That pond is also home to Canada Geese (only one Husband and Wife had babbies this year. I named them Glenn and Maggie and the babbies are Herschels #1-8. Cute little buggers. They grow up so fast!)

Knock Knock! Whos There? A FUCKING DOUCHE AND HIS DOUCHE WIFE!

For all you stalkers out there: I'm now living in the creepy old farmhouse that you can just barely see over the tippy top of those wee greenhouses. If you're gonna visit- bring some 18% cream and a box of Tassimo coffee disks cos we're out. K, thanks.


Despite being out of the berry racket for over a decade we still get about 50 calls a year asking about the berries and at least 2 visits every summer from people who didn't get the memo about the fact we simply don't. do. that. shit. any. more. Full stop.

Pas de berries.

No mas berries.


Now, if you're looking for:

  • annuals (everything but Impatiens. No Impatiens because of the Impatien Aids epidemic)
  • veggies
  • herbs
  • weird shit like zinnias and cleome in 4" pots
  • ornamental grasses
  • perennials (they're the zombie of plants. THEY COME BACK!)
  • mixed planters of all shapes and sizes bursting with colorful shit
  • tacky ass wallbags full of rilly nice plants
  • stunning hanging baskets full of gorgeous crap

Then yes, by all means come and see us because we have an assload of all that fuckery laying all over the place and if you don't buy it we are going to throw it on the massive pile of plants out back. Its like the most cheerful, heartbreakingly colorful mass grave you ever saw.

So yeah, come take some plants so they don't die slow, painful plant deaths in a heap of screaming plants.


Aaaaaanyhow, the day before yesterday some random couple knocked on my front door and hubby sorta rudely asked "What happened to all the strawberries?! They used to be on either side of the driveway and they're all gone now. Where did you put them?" No hi, no howya doin, no greeting whatsoever. Right to the barking of questions on my doorstep while I'm trying to keep Turkeydog from killing them with love and Jessica Tandy from just flat out killing them.

Now I so SOOOO badly wanted to reply with my all time favorite answer "WHY DON'T YOU BEND OVER AND I'LL SHOW YOU???" But I stupidly decided that I ought to lead by example and be the politer party for a change (the fact that my family is well known round these parts and that my being a cunt might reflect badly or get spread around also played a big part in my choice.) So I smiled said "Sorry, we don't have strawberries anymore. Ploughed them all under over 10 years back. You'll have to go..."

Thats when the wife cut me off mid sentence and asked "Are you SURE? We were just here a year or two ago and there were berries here. Is there an owner here we can talk to?"

I was like "Lady, my last name is Amazeballs. See the sign on the greenhouses there? *points to massive sign on greenhouses* The one that says Dirk Amazeballs and Sons Greenhouses? Well, Dirk is my Dad, this is my farm and I'm telling you we don't have strawberries anymore, we haven't for a decade. You'll have to go to Hurrbagges over on the next road."

She made a sour face and said "Well it says Dirk Amazeballs AND SONS. Nothing about a daughter. We'd like to speak with Dirk."

I had to resist sicking MrGhostBoobs' Shepherd on them. I fucking hate the "How come the sign says Dirk Amazeballs and Sons and doesn't mention YOU" lame ass joke. I've heard it a million times and this wasn't even a joke, she was patronizing me. So I gave up trying to rep rep represent the family name and any semblance of being polite, rolled my eyes and said as sarcastically and dripping with as much venom as I could muster "Yeah, okay, you got me. We actually DO have strawberries. We just took all of them out of that massive field where they used to be and hid them all over the farm to make it more interesting for the pickers. If you can find them, they're 7$ a pound. Good luck!" and slammed the door in their faces.

Knock Knock! Whos There? A FUCKING DOUCHE AND HIS DOUCHE WIFE!

They were not impressed. I was half expecting them to knock again by the look on their faces as I was shutting the door and if they did I was going to open it with my crossbow in my hands and point it at the wifes bovine face, but they didn't. (I don't keep it cocked and ready to go or anything. Thats just silly. But anything pointed at a face will usually make that face fuck right off posthaste whether its loaded or not. My roof, my rules yo.)

I watched them walk towards the greenhouses and went and sat on my porch with the dogs to listen to how THAT worked out for them. They apparently asked my Evil SiL the same question in the same ignorant tone and told her that whoever lives in the farmhouse is incredibly rude.

She didn't let me down.

It only took about 3 minutes from the time they crossed the threshold to hearing her shrill voice telling them to get the fuck off our property RIGHT THIS MINUTE or she was going to turn her dog onto them.

At that point I walked around the front of the house with Jessica Tandy (our big scary Shepherd) on her leash and waved a sarcastic hand folding goodbye to them with a big shiteating grin on my face.

Knock Knock! Whos There? A FUCKING DOUCHE AND HIS DOUCHE WIFE!


Let it be known to each and every yuppie douche in the vicinity: If a field of berries is gone and that field is just a field of grass and the person in the farmhouse tells you the berries are gone: THE BERRIES ARE FUCKING WELL GONE and no amount of entitled, nasal, whiny, thinly veiled threats of "I want to speak with the Owner" is going to make those gods damned berries appear. That shit might work at Starbucks or Costco, but I eat yuppies like you for breakfast and will literally scratch your eyes out if you don't get outta my personal space and off my fucking doorstep.


If you're not a douche and you happen to be in the area and happen to have some 18% cream and some Tassimo disks: Then you can hang out for as long as you like and smoke a leftie with us :)
Oh, and you can take some plants too. You know, to save them from that heap out back.