The Gift that Keeps On Giving

It can be great fun to prank your BFF but there are things you should know.

You could come home from a road trip to find plastic bugs hidden around your house to take years off of your life span because that revenge minded BFF has gained entry to your home. And you may think your dearly beloved Dixie Belle had a doggie accident in your bedroom while you were away when it’s really a mound of disgusting plastic. And you may live on edge in your own home wondering where the next plastic roach and/or spider could be lurking.

Yes, all of these things have recently befallen me, and more.

I ran into my BFF’s mother and she apologized for her daughter’s behavior before asking innocently, “So, did you ever find the bat?”

Bat? We were interrupted by another friend, but I left our unfinished conversation thinking surely she was joking. Surely there wasn’t a bat in my house. Wrong, Shirley. After spending a week on full alert for the little guy, wondering if he was dead, alive, or plastic, I sort of relaxed. Silly me. Days later I reached my bedroom early enough to read instead of falling in bed comatose like that old-fashioned Nestea plunge, only to be startled by a nasty fake bat hiding under my lamp shade.

Bat

 

Indeed, I had zero problem staying awake to read.

Have I found everything she planted? Who knows? Just yesterday, I discovered Pedro the Panty Python in my lingerie drawer, complete with an introductory name tag tied around his neck. This particular prank seems to be the gift that keeps on giving, and not in a good way.

On the other hand, that very line moves me to a great celebration.

Would you join me in praising the unparalleled present God offered the whole world on an old rugged cross? Far from being hidden or obscured, His only begotten Son was lifted high for all to see.

Jesus rescues us and then He rewards us for simply embracing that redemption. In every single way, He really is the gift that keeps on giving.

Hugs,Shellie

 

Did You Hear About the War on Okry?

Hello folks, let’s chat… I’m exceedingly grateful for law enforcement officials. Today’s visit shouldn’t be construed as me picking on them. This disclaimer feels necessary because of a story I did once that I’m not at liberty to discuss again in any way for whatever reason, so help me game wardens everywhere.

You can however, consider this a follow-up of sorts to last week’s column on the dangers of sniffing cow dung to get high. I’m not sure how the stories tie in exactly, but we’ll just get started and see what happens. It’ll be more fun that way.

That said, our story begins with a man named Dwayne who was recently surprised in the privacy of his Georgia home when heavily armed deputies and a K-9 unit descended on his property. They were aiming to arrest him and destroy his flourishing marijuana crop. The alert officers had identified the illegal plants while flying over his property, only the pot they had spotted was actually okra. Perhaps you weren’t even aware that there was a War on Okry, as many of my people refer to it. This is why you read All Things Southern.

 

okra

The officers ended up apologizing and all is… kinda well.

Poor Dwayne remains concerned that their very public raid has damaged his reputation in the community. I say, shake it off and work this thing, buddy! The clock’s ticking and you’ve got fifteen minutes of fame here to maximize the publicity over that renegade okra. Gumbo Gone Wild has a great ring and making the best of a bad situation is the southern way after all. It’d practically market itself, but I can help you with slogans. How about “This is your brain on okra”? I know. There’s more where that comes from.

My work’s almost done here and I’m still not sure how to tie this in with cow dung sniffing, other than to warn y’all that I’ve experimented with okra and it’s definitely a gateway drug. Fry it and you’ll be moving on to green tomatoes before you can say, “Is that a cop in the cabbage?”

Hugs, Shellie

My Apologies to Cows Everywhere

Hello folks, let’s chat…The email read, “Dear Shellie, do country people really tip over cows for fun? Heavy, sigh. As head scientist here at All Things Southern, I’ve come to expect such questions to pop up occasionally. Let it be known that I do my best to address them professionally by thoroughly researching the issue instead of firing off an email based on my own experience, meaning I type the subject into google and laugh myself silly first.

While there remains a percentage of people out there with screen names like Beast Boy who insist they’ve personally tipped over countless cows, I’m comfortable with my long held position on this one. Cow tipping is a myth, a bogus adventure much like snipe hunting. I suspect both legends originated with some country soul bent on pranking an unsuspecting city slicker cousin into attempting the impossible.

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That said, my time spent on bovine research earlier wasn’t entirely wasted. I did land on something new and interesting, at least to me. Some folks were commenting that it was old news. I’ll let you decide.

Story has it that glue sniffers have moved on to a popular new thrill. They’re now sniffing cow manure to get high. No, I’m not making this up but I would like to personally apologize to cows everywhere. First we blamed y’all for blowing holes in the ozone. Now this. I may never be able to stop at Chick Fil A again without thinking about this story, and I doubt that fine company will appreciate being mentioned in the same breath should this piece find its way around the Internet, but we’re in this thing now. So, hear me out.

People, this is why mood altering drugs of any size, shape– and smell are so incredibly dangerous. Like the old song said, “Next thing you know you’re just walking around behind the little animals.”

My research didn’t indicate this to be true, but I feel sure I know what the cow says to the sniffer. Are you ready? Are you sure?

“Pull my hoof.”

Sue me. It was just too easy.

Hugs, Shellie