Ray, you dirty bird.

I decided to get a job on a farm in the south of France. I'm not entirely sure how this happened, but I'm almost positive I was drunk when I came up with the idea.

Working on a farm is hard work. It takes country SO FAR beyond shotgunning beers at the Calgary Stampede. We have no idea what country really means.

My three chores for the day included cleaning the guest house, cleaning the chicken coop, and watering the vegetable garden. Simple Anne of Green Gables shit, right?

Wrong. You're wrong. 

While vacuuming my room, I invented this game called "vacuum up every spider you see or you're not sleeping tonight, bitch." It's pretty self explanatory. The doors are left open to keep the house cool, so basically it's a never ending game of lose.

Cleaning the chicken coop was a challenge seeing as I was directed to clean out all the old hay without disturbing any of the eggs that were conveniently placed every-fucking-where you looked. While cleaning the field of chicken mcnugget land mines, I'm pretty sure I witnessed at least 5 counts of chicken rape by ONE MALE and It was terrifying. No wonder there's so many damn eggs everywhere. Keep it in your pants, you sicko.

I named him Ray the Rapist, and fed him last for being such an asshole.

Watering the vegetable garden seems like an easy enough task until you realize you left the gate open and all the horses came in for a vegetarian buffet. How do you get 5 large animals twice your size to listen to you while they're busy stuffing their faces with this years harvest for the entire village. I ended up chasing them out with a rake while yelling "OLE OLE OLE!" which I'm not really sure where the Spanish came from, but it sounded legit, and it worked. I think that technique would work in any situation though, because nothing says "I AM THE BOSS, AND YOU ARE THE PEASANTS" quite like a crazy Spaniard with a flying rake.

I thought I was getting the hang of this farm thing until the farmers told me that instead of laying hay in the chicken coop, I laid straw. So now I have chickens shitting on horse food, horses eating human food, and I'm running around with a rake above my head like a fucking lunatic, that even the barn cat won't be my friend. 

It isn't 100% confirmed yet, but I might not be cut out for country.

xoxo, the damsel