Farm-vizzle, Fo’ Shizzle (My Nizzle)

So, I was harvesting my soybeans last night when I realized that the game was starting to take over my life, like when you first start drinking and you’re all “oh, just this once, because I’m bored out of my mind and CSI doesn’t start for another 40 minutes” and pretty soon you’re drinking regularly, like, almost every weekend, and even though you say you’re doing it “socially,” because everybody else is doing it, you really would do it whether other people were doing it or not. And then, before long, you’re rearranging your life around alcohol, making sure you’re free every night of the week so you can drink, and sneaking drinks in at work when they clearly have a No Alcohol policy, but, then again, they also have a Sexual Harassment policy and the guy who just felt you up in the elevator didn’t seem to get in trouble, so why would you?

Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

And it’s so freaking addictive! I only started because Brian started a farm on my facebook account so he could be “neighbors” with me (something about expanding his land, but he wasn’t talking about cake or being a ninja, so I wasn’t really paying attention). So he planted some strawberries or something, and then the next day, I found out that they had wilted.

And then I felt guilty.
Like, “what’d those poor strawberries ever do to you?”
And then I found out he had spent my hard-earned (and by “hard-earned,” I mean “given for doing nothing absolutely nothing”) Farmville money on them and I was all, “Oh HELLZ TO THE NO, you did not just waste $160 on wilted strawberries!” So I grabbed the mouse and kind of butt-scooted him off the chair and was all, Momma’s back, poor little dead strawberries, don’t you worry no mo’.

So I planted some more shit.
And changed the sex of my character for good measure.
And adopted a reindeer because, awww, it’s so CUTE.
And then it was harvest time.

Ca-CHING

Guys, I’m not going to lie.
I probably had the most successful crop in the history of Farmville.
Several thousand (yes, I said thousand, try not to pass out from your excitement, disbelief, and obvious jealousy) dollars later, I decided that I was way better at harvesting strawberries than writing.

So quit my job.

Okay, so that’s not entirely how it happened.
But I DID quit my job.
And I DO have more Farmville money than real money, so what does that say?

I’ll tell you what it says:

It says I’m a pro, baby.
(man, if I had a nickel for every time somebody called me a pro…)

And you guys – the animals LOVE YOU. Did you know that when you pet them, they bounce up and down and little hearts come floating out of them?
The last time I pet Milo, the only thing he emitted was flatulence that was so rank, the cats were climbing on top of one another trying to flee the room. I'm not even kidding. The little mean cat kind of rode the fat lazy cat out of the room like she was in the Kentucky Derby.

It was a sight to behold, Ill tell ya.

But regardless, I’m convinced that Farmville is the only reality that I want to be a part of.

If anybody needs me, I’ll be at my farm, harvesting my avocado tree, petting my reindeer, and resting under my tent.

Oh yeah...
I gotz me a pimp tent.

Try not to hate...