Fuck You, Deer

For months I have been planning a post about my garden. It rocked. I was growing three varieties of basil. I had 8 tomato plants kickin some ass. I had three zucchini plants a growin, plus two squashes to keep them company. Two bell pepper plants, two jalepenos, some swiss chard, lemongrass and rhubarb to boot. I was feeling a chest-thumping Man Card post coming along once the harvest really started coming in. An for awhile we reaped the benefits. But I held off knowing a big harvest was coming down the pike.

That is, until the motherfuckin deer came along.

I seen these bastards before, and up until last week I was a friend of Bambi and his pals. When they clopped along in my neighbor's yards and I watched them go about their merry deer way, I was fine with it. When they made weird deer-love sounds in the woods behind my condo at 3 a.m. back when we lived in Cleveland Park, I shook it off and went back to sleep. When my mom was in town a couple months ago and we watched five big-sized deer hop into our backyard and then laughed as Oliver chased them around, I laughed and thought it was cool. I thought we had an understanding.

But those sum-bitches done torn up my garden, and now it's on. One night like a pack of wolves they came over and chowed down. Ate damn near everything, and left some serious plant carnage that made the wife want to cry. That is, until pure rage overwhelmed her and now she's half-joked about building a tree blind and sniping these bastards.

So now it's all about keeping out the deer. We've found some good deer fences, and hopefully in a couple weeks we'll get her cousin to help set them up. We're trying some other preventative measures for now, but they've decimated the garden, so there is not much worth protecting. I may have to start meeting Kelly again for some Big Buck Hunter action to sharpen my skills.

Either way, it's on, deer. I wish Tommy Boy had killed you when he had the chance. And I know this guy always knows the right things to say when bagging on animals.