I’m a bona fide farmer’s daughter (coincidentally, so is my sister). Because of this, most of my life, I’ve had to tolerate jokes about how trampy those of my ilk are. Did I say “tolerate”? Perhaps “kick every guy right in the apple bag* as soon as the words ‘because she couldn’t keep her calves together’** crosses his lips” is a little more accurate. On top of this, I also have the additional fun trait of being a blonde. Liken me to a golden retriever*** one more time, pal, and your apple bag’s getting pummeled. Once I hit high school, every jerk who’d ever heard a dirty limerick suddenly thought it was okay to crack filthy, stupid jokes at my expense. Honestly, I can’t believe I wasn’t expelled more. And let me tell you, it doesn’t matter how many turtlenecks and chastity belts you wear to school or how many Future Farmers of America achievement awards you win, there will always be some idiot who thinks farmer’s daughter jokes must have some truth to them. I kicked a lot of apple bags in high school.
Here’s what I don’t get: what farmer’s daughter joke out there do you think I haven’t heard yet? Guess what: I’ve got a whole filing cabinet full of ’em. Anecdotes about roosters wearing condoms, traveling salesmen whose cars inevitably break down right near the farmer’s house . . . I’ve heard them all. None of them are particularly clever or funny (except, ironically, the ones I’ve heard from other farmers’ daughters, like the 4-H one). Sometimes, the jokes are combined for maximum offensiveness (“Why did the blonde buy a brown cow?”****) However, I did learn that some of these jokes could be used to my advantage. Here’s how I used to deflect dates:
Jerko High School Boy: Didja hear the one about the farmer’s daughter?
Me: Yup.
Jerko: Uh . . . what? Wait. The one about the guy who goes to pick up the farmer’s daughter and he says “I’m Joe, I want to take you to a show?”
Me: And the third guy’s named Chuck and the farmer shoots him? Yup. ‘Herd’ that one.
Jerko: My name’s Chuck. Want to go out?
Me: Well, Chuck, I am the farmer’s daughter. I can only go out with you if you agree to take me to the moo-vies.
Jerko: Huh. I see what you did there. Clever.
Me: And I have to be home early.
Jerko: Why, when’s your curfew?
Me: When the cows come home.
Jerko: And I suppose your father is going to greet me at the door with his shotgun.
Me: I don’t think so.
Jerko: Well, that’s a relief.
Me: He won’t greet you at the door. He’ll be outside. In ca-moo-flauge. It’ll be a ‘steak’ out.
Jerko: You know, I think I’m not available after all.
Me: Really? You don’t even want to walk me to the calf-eteria for lunch?
Jerko: No.
Me: But I didn’t even get to kick you in the apple bag! Well, this was an udder disappointment.
You get the point. Much like Lou Diamond Phillips is sick and tired of hearing “do ‘La Bamba!’”***** every time he walks down the street, so too have I had enough of your dumb witticisms. You are not going to make any joke, slur, insult, or witty pun that I haven’t heard before. I have many, many other qualities that are actually true that you can ridicule.
Quite frankly, I’m sick of the Holsteinking thing.
____________________________________________________
*This is a euphemism.
**Why did the farmer’s daughter get kicked out of 4-H?
***What do you call an intelligent blonde?
****Chocolate milk.
*****For those under thirty, please substitute the following: “Much like Bill Fagerbakke is tired of hearing ‘do Patrick Star!’”
Here’s what I don’t get: what farmer’s daughter joke out there do you think I haven’t heard yet? Guess what: I’ve got a whole filing cabinet full of ’em. Anecdotes about roosters wearing condoms, traveling salesmen whose cars inevitably break down right near the farmer’s house . . . I’ve heard them all. None of them are particularly clever or funny (except, ironically, the ones I’ve heard from other farmers’ daughters, like the 4-H one). Sometimes, the jokes are combined for maximum offensiveness (“Why did the blonde buy a brown cow?”****) However, I did learn that some of these jokes could be used to my advantage. Here’s how I used to deflect dates:
Jerko High School Boy: Didja hear the one about the farmer’s daughter?
Me: Yup.
Jerko: Uh . . . what? Wait. The one about the guy who goes to pick up the farmer’s daughter and he says “I’m Joe, I want to take you to a show?”
Me: And the third guy’s named Chuck and the farmer shoots him? Yup. ‘Herd’ that one.
Jerko: My name’s Chuck. Want to go out?
Me: Well, Chuck, I am the farmer’s daughter. I can only go out with you if you agree to take me to the moo-vies.
Jerko: Huh. I see what you did there. Clever.
Me: And I have to be home early.
Jerko: Why, when’s your curfew?
Me: When the cows come home.
Jerko: And I suppose your father is going to greet me at the door with his shotgun.
Me: I don’t think so.
Jerko: Well, that’s a relief.
Me: He won’t greet you at the door. He’ll be outside. In ca-moo-flauge. It’ll be a ‘steak’ out.
Jerko: You know, I think I’m not available after all.
Me: Really? You don’t even want to walk me to the calf-eteria for lunch?
Jerko: No.
Me: But I didn’t even get to kick you in the apple bag! Well, this was an udder disappointment.
You get the point. Much like Lou Diamond Phillips is sick and tired of hearing “do ‘La Bamba!’”***** every time he walks down the street, so too have I had enough of your dumb witticisms. You are not going to make any joke, slur, insult, or witty pun that I haven’t heard before. I have many, many other qualities that are actually true that you can ridicule.
Quite frankly, I’m sick of the Holsteinking thing.
____________________________________________________
*This is a euphemism.
**Why did the farmer’s daughter get kicked out of 4-H?
***What do you call an intelligent blonde?
****Chocolate milk.
*****For those under thirty, please substitute the following: “Much like Bill Fagerbakke is tired of hearing ‘do Patrick Star!’”
Here I am, milking it for all it's worth.
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