I am a good gardener!

A lot of people think they know that I am a pretty bad gardener. Well, in the past, they would have been right. Every spring I would get pretty serious about growing my own celery and green beans for bloody marys, but then a couple weeks after I did the planting my little backyard planterbox would look like Night of the Triffids, all with mad weeds taking over everywhere and if I was lucky, a single small green bean hanging off a dead brown vine, kind of dangling like the thing a butterfly comes out of. It was never the kind of thing you would want to put into a bloody mary, at all.

Lately though I have been doing pretty well in the garden. The main thing, I think, is to hire a dude to take up all the weeds. I hate pulling weeds. I'm kind of like Monet, you know, just wanting to have everything ready for me so I can concentrate on my vision. Picasso was also much the same way, as was Einstein. For as mean as Einstein was to his wife, they definitely had some awesome situation worked out.

Anyhow, I hired a local botanist to weed all my garden- and flower-beds. Usually she's done before I even get up and put on my slippers to walk outside, which is basically fantastic. I ain't got to feel bad that she is doing all kinds of crappy yard work, and I am free with my blank canvas. I think I'm gonna plant a lot of thyme and rosemary, you know, herbs that get on real well with a naked chicken. Lots of herbs. Gonna do a French thing, all with tarragon and lavender. Ray gonna start an herb colony called the Succulent Tongue. Crossin' the line between fragrant garden greens and hot thighs rollin' in thick crunchy duvets under afternoon springtime sun. Ray is gonna get it on with his gardener. Ray is gonna bring the sex act.