Every issue of Sports Illustrated has a brief quote titled Sign of the Apocalypse, a humorous but true sports news item that makes you wonder--have we gone too far? In that spirit, I present another installment of Sign of the Farmpocalypse, because I just can't make this stuff up.
Husband has a rare (and potentially fatal) condition whereby he only removes his boots and cleans up on Saturdays and Sundays. During the week--when I am usually at work--he is only able to change clothes for the afternoon Andy Griffith marathon. The rest of the time he tiptoes through the kitchen leaving trails of poop-snow and straw.
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Appointment Pooping
NOTE: If you do not want to read about my healthy bowel movement, well too late you just did. I recently became you-better-get-a-colonosco...
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Good gravy (I have taken up saying this since Husband doesn't curse and I was the only one to blame for our household's junior potty...
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Last weekend, in a brief moment of remote control ownership, I tuned into basic cable and saw a very disturbing show called "Rich Bride...
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Ladies, hold on to your blinged out boots, international pig clipping man of mystery, Claude'**, is back in town just in time to lend hi...
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