Thank you all so much for reviewing this fic in the first chapter! I'm thrilled anyone-- let alone five separate people-- took the time to read and tell me they enjoyed it. Seriously, you're all dolls and I can't fully explain how awesome it was to know that I wasn't the only one enjoying this ridiculous little fic. In your honor, I'm putting the next chapter up and working on the third one. I hope you enjoy and keep reading. ;)


Title: From the Mixed Up Files of a Farming Malfunction
Fandom: Harvest Moon: More Friends of Mineral Town
Characters/Pairings: Farmer, Farmer/Doctor, Farmer/Gray, Cast of the Game
Rating: R
Summary: A single girl's guide to mating and creating a life for herself within Mineral Town. Or: How to keep your sense and sanity while moving into a farm that might actually be helped by acid rain. Beware snarkiness running rampant!
Note: Profanity and eventual sexual content (yes, it's coming eventually!)


Spring 2, Diary Entry #2:

Huh.

You know that old saying about never looking a gift horse in the mouth?

Well, weird though it might be, I got the chance to do that today. And while I was doing it, I learned that the animals in this town have really crap dental hygiene.

After the fun-filled day of excitement and existential angst I had right after I moved in, I honestly thought things couldn't get any more bendy for me. Well, surprise surprise, you might as well cast me as a guest star on a supernatural soap opera because the twists just keep coming for me. I mean, granted, these aren't actually cool twists, like me having an evil twin that shares a psychic bond with the undead, or meeting two hot men*** with really great abs who want to fight over me me me! (That can't happen because that would require my life actually being interesting. (And god knows my life being interesting would apparently bend the space-time continuum until the universe exploded, since nothing like that's ever come close to affecting me.)

(***As an aside, the hot men either have to be a werewolf-vampire or fairy-gnome or orc-elf pairing, or something. It's like, if you have two supernatural people fighting over you, they have to hate each other in every way possible. That's apparently what make it so sexy!)

But what happened to me today was a twist none-the-less and by god, when I get a gift horse, I check both my pocket and it's front teeth.

I'm not exactly an animal person-- which is probably pretty noticeable when Pissy (and yes, I get to name my dog that that when it's his sole defining trait) starts spraying away at random surfaces like a leaky fire-hydrant on a hot July day. And come to think of it, I'm not really a person person either-- at least, I'm not if my last, oh, four or five boyfriends had a say.

(Though the last one eventually regained feeling in his groin so I'm not sure what he keeps complaining about. Can you say frivolous lawsuit, dear diary?)

Still, if nothing else, I can always sell the pony to a glue factory and pocket the money, right? And god knows, I might need it in the coming days. I'm so broke right now, I might have to resort to actually charging for the blow-jobs I usually give away for free. It goes against my standards as an ethical slut, diary. My high minded morality's really killing me.

But all joking (who's joking?) aside (and geesh, I'm not that desperate yet-- though I might have to change my mind in a few weeks), it's actually scary to sit down and try to figure my situation out. I sunk almost $50,000 into this place-- and even though I thought it was a great deal at the time, the financial tiger I thought I had by the tail is pretty much chewing my ass upside down here.

The entire farm is a mess that's going to take days, if not weeks, to clean up. The actual lawn's completely full of weeds and stones and tree stumps and furry little fucking hedge-hogs like to pop up like Satan's Ow Personal Garden Gnome and chew on your ankles when you're just trying to clean the place up to actually plant something. The pond's about as clear as a crystal glass-- that had Pissy work it over with his bladder for a few weeks. The barn and hen-house are both really small-- and even worse, really empty. And the house is just small enough to give me claustrophobia-- and juuust large enough to share with a very spewing puppy.

(And the freaking dog-house apparently isn't actually big enough to have a dog in it! Apparently, whoever built it didn't take actual physical mass into account while doing their planning!)

I'd say the one good point on the farm is that it at least has a beehive, which means free honey. Except, you know, for the fact that I'm allergic and I could be killed by a single sting from a bee.

Honestly, if I knew where the architect who built this place was buried, I'd take Pissy over to that guy's grave immediately. And if the bastard's not dead, I'll kill him with one of my fabulous array of frightening weak gardening tools and then let Pissy do the deed.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm coming off as a grade-A bitch. I'm well aware of that fact, diary. But honestly... when you put so much time and effort into saving up for something... and you think that that something will give you something real in return... and that you'll finally find the place you've been searching all your life... the place of your dreams...

Well, my dream didn't just dry up or pop like a soap-bubble. It's running down my leg like the best part of a bad lay, and making nearly as much of a mess as my last date. And I'm not sure if I can handle that here. Not when I've got a barely functioning farm and only four weeks until the end of the spring farming season, only $5,000 to buy enough new tools, animals and seeds to make a decent profit on, and only a few days to learn how to actually live off the land before I begin to starve and have to resort to eating my possibly STD-ridden puppy.

But as my mom used to say, before she went away, every life has a few storm clouds in it. I mean, getting pelted with the hail of freaking life isn't exactly thrilling but... well, things could be worse.

After all, I got a pony today, right? And even if I have to sell it to the glue factory eventually to keep my hold on my already extremely hypothetical virtue...

Well, shit. Free pony. That's gotta count for something. If nothing else, it's keeping the 12-year-old Lisa Frank fan in me really, really happy.

Anyway, I gotta go scavenge for food in the wild like some creepy forest animal and then fight off Satan's Evil Ankle-Biters while I try to tame my own front lawn. I'll catch you on the flip-side, diary. And until then, keep hoping for me!


Author's Note: Heh. I'm guessing if you've read this far, you've already noticed that Farming Girl isn't exactly the most, ah, dainty and demure of all the maidens in Mineral Town currently. Trust me, that's intentional. There's nothing funnier than a fuck-up... and let's face it, you'd have to be a little nuts to sink your life savings into a farm without even checking whether it's worth investing into. Poor Farming Girl definitely has her social and intellectual challenges... but that's what makes her fun to write and hopefully read. She's as screwed up as the rest of us... and thus, the comedy hopefully keeps rolling. ;)

As always, I really appreciate reviews-- they help keep me interested in writing! Please do comment/review if you've enjoyed-- I will definitely get back to you on any concerns you might have private.

And the next chapter is shaping up to be a lot of fun. We have our first human interaction between Farming Girl and the malcontents that live next door... and she'll have more than a few tart words for Rick (among other people) eventually!