I don’t have much of a garden — three tomato plants and four basils — but I’m deeply attached to the bounty and willing to put in the work.
Basil, well, that’s easy enough. Wait until June, plant, water often, eat often, be happy.
Tomatoes? Good god. Apparently they need pollinators! One thing we apartment-dwellers on the slopes of major cities don’t get enough of is pollinators. Apparently bees think apartments are for the birds.
So there I am, a beautiful balcony, three steroid-induced tomato plants looming tall, reared on dark coffee and eggshells, with about 40 flowers bursting on each, and about 12 tomatoes in total. 10% tomato production? Oh, I don’t think so, we Steffs don’t like those kinds of results AT ALL.
If the nuns from Catholic school saw me pulling in a 10% result on anything, my ass would be at one with the leather strap and its thwacky-thwacky-thwacks.
Desperate to change the odds, I consulted Twitter. I’ve heard about the whole “use a Q-tip to pollinate” thing but THAT didn’t work, I’d tried that already.
But then I got told a twist on the Q-tip-pollinating thing by @Astrogirl426. Turns out one should use an electric razor with the blades removed, turn it on so it vibrates, let it hover right by the flower’s stamens, and then, with a plate underneath, one collects the falling pollen. THEN a Q-tip gets dabbed and collects all the fallen pollen, and that Q-tip gets rubbed onto the centre of each flower. Poof, pollinated! And you get to proudly know you can do Bee Duty when needed. Score.
Hmm, problem: I have no electric razor. So @Astrogirl426 suggested I try using a sex toy.
A sex toy? For gardening?
WELL, it happens, I have one of those. Or two. Or something.
I also have a very, very open balcony, on the third floor, with completely open and exposed railings, not solid ones, so whatever’s happening on my balcony, one certainly sees, whatever their vantage point.
So, I considered her advice for a few days, but took a pass because the last thing I need is neighbours calling the cops about the weird lady with the sex toy and a thing for plants.
Then, last Friday, it dawns on me, “It’s August 21st! OMG. I’m never going to get tomatoes.”
I looked around. No one was at their windows… in the 50 or so apartments with exposure to mine. No one was in the long alleyway where everyone parks. No one was on their balconies.
“It’s now or never,” I thought.
So, I rummaged through my Unmentionables Drawer, and conjured the Big Bad Daddy of my vibrators, in brilliant transparent red, a motor that would power a boat, that some sex toy company sent me last year, and put on my big housecoat.
There I am, trying to stand with my legs wide apart so as to shield me from the view of prying neighbours with my monster-big-ass never-gonna-get-laid-in-THIS robe spread out, a big gleaming red vibrator in my right hand, and a shiny white plate in my left.
I take the vibrator and put the tip of its head within a quarter-inch of the flowers, and let ‘er rip. bRRRR-rRRRRr-RrRRR-BuZZZZ-RRRR-BuUUuZZZZZ-RRRrrrr.
Sure enough, yellow dust starts to fall onto my plate.
Suddenly I know what prospectors for gold must’ve felt up in the Yukon Gold Rush in 1898.
“EUREKA! I’VE HIT THE MOTHER LODE!”
Ever so quickly I tried shoving the sex toy into my robe’s pocket so I could continue with the actual pollinating. Naturally, foiled by the silicone, the vibrator’s head stubbed on the pocket and the friggin’ thing bounced, hitting the floor, and nearly plummeting the 3 floors below. Yeah, that’d be great, a giant $90 red vibrator goes bouncing on the pavement. No one’s gonna notice THAT.
Fortunately, it just rested on the railing. Whew, score one for my fragile pride! I’ll just roll that over there, under the deck chair then…
With my trusty 0.04-cent Q-tip, I collected my fallen pollen and proceeded to attempt pollination. I mean, this isn’t something that comes with a referee standing on the goal line shouting that you’re successful. You wing it and you hope.
But, tonight, oh sweet victory! There are 14 new baby tomatoes!
That sex toy’s coming out at 6am for round two, baby. Fuck pride. This is tomatoes we’re talking about!
And you just thought your toys got you off.
Apparently they work on more than one kind of hunger. Damn, I love multipurpose implements!