Sign of the Farmpocalypse

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.

A newspaper in Australia was forced to issue a correction about a story on pigs that were endangered during a flood. They originally reported 30,000 pigs as being lost, when actually the farmer said, "30 sows and pigs." [Note: I realize this clips is from 2011.]

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Happily Ever After

Last weekend, in a brief moment of remote control ownership, I tuned into basic cable and saw a very disturbing show called "Rich Bride, Poor Bride." I watched two episodes and didn't see what I would call a "poor" bride--although actually, after they blew their budgets, both brides probably did end up poor. One couple spent about $75,000. They talked her out of having live peacocks at the reception. That makes me think about my own much simpler but very nice-for- Farmersville wedding over a decade ago. In many ways it was a disaster. We were engaged for a year and a half; we had plenty of time to plan but fates conspired against us. By the time we got to the week of the wedding, we had buried two people on the guest list and paid our respects to a distant uncle. One of the people we lost was my husband's grandfather who died Monday, we had visitation Wednesday, funeral Thursday, rehearsal dinner Friday, wedding Saturday. How his grandmother handled

I Know What you Did Last Summer

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 mouths), it's Fall. And I still haven't shown you the before/during/after pictures of my kitchen update. Before : greenish "marble" laminate counters with a yellowed fluorescent light cover--only one bulb working. Carbon dating and a close examination of the many knife cuts evident on the laminate surface have led scientists to believe these counter tops date to the early Aquarius period or possibly late Happy Days epoch. To save money on the almost airline-like add-ons involved in having a big box home improvement chain do this project, we removed the counter tops ourselves. I use the term ourselves very loosely, of course, in that Husband did it. I thought we were well-prepared. Fortunately, they did not have a box on their billing slip for We Pulled out the Oven and OMGOMGOMG!! The workers even kindly looked away while I

Rejected by Nancy Cartwright

Every two years the nationally renowned Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop is held here in Dayton. The event typically sells out in hours, but one way to gain entry is to enter the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition --there is even a category for local writers. Several of my local friends who are great bloggers and hilarious Facebook commenters have been talking smack about winning this thing since we were all shut out two years ago by booger stories. Nancy Cartwright , Dayton native and the the voice of Bart Simpson, judged the finalists this year. Apparently, she did not like my entry. Recently, famous blogger and author Jenny Lawson shared an article she had written that was rejected by Oprah's magazine. So, inspired by her, I will share my article that I'm sure made it all the way to Nancy [it did not] and then was rejected for not being about boogers or port-a-johns. Check out "All the Dreeds of Pigs" in a future post on this blog.

Bringing Home the Bacon

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