The USDA wants to buy...submachine guns?!?!?

From the WTF files...it came to my attention today that the USDA (department of Agriculture) has put out a request for quote on...firearms?!?! What in the heck? Why does the USDA need submachine guns?

I mean, yes, rootworm is bad this year, but submachine guns? Seriously?

Death to crop pests!

Who wants to guess that these are NOT for a war on GMOs?

Barnyard Tales Chapter 7: Kinky Cows

“He strode through the gate with an aura of confidence. His taunt muscles rippled beneath his skin, making it dance with power. His jet black hair shone in the bright spring sunlight. His scent was divine; a mix of sweat and pheromones that bespoke more masculinity than words ever could. It wafted towards me on the breeze and commanded my attention. I raised my head and stared, my mouth agape, as my sisters did the same. He was by far the finest specimen of a male I, or any of us, had ever seen. He walked slowly down the hill towards us with a grace and ease that I didn’t know anyone could possess.

It had been months since any of us had seen a male old enough to arouse interest, but here was one. And oh what a one he was!

I’m not sure who started moving first. Was it me? Was it Beulah? I guess it doesn’t matter anymore really. As one we raced across the field towards the male of our dreams. We weren’t jealous, really. I knew that there would be a second place in the race for his affections, but none of that mattered. We would let him sort it out once we got there.”

Excerpt from “The Bull of My Dreams, a Memoir” by Crooked Cow

You might believe that the above quote is an overstatement, but as I watched the sexy hunk of beef that was the rent-a-bull stride off the trailer and into the pasture I swear to you that the above paragraphs describe what the cows felt. Their head’s lifted in unison. Recognition flowed through them like an electric current. As a herd they immediately ran to meet their new beau an began licking him from head to hoof.

Licking him like a freaking lollipop. I kid you not. Those old girls are kinky like that.

And the bull? I could swear he did a chin tilt, “’Sup ladies.” He was THAT confident.

Needless to say we had a bumper crop of calves that year…

Awkward

I am a socially awkward dater.

I don’t go on many first dates because when I do I wind up talking about things like animal spines and deer skulls. I don’t know why. First dates turn me into some sort of sociopath. I panic when faced with a new person that I don’t know, and resort to discussing things I do know, like random dead things in the yard and dehydrated opossum carcasses in the barn. Sexy right? God. No wonder I can’t beat them off with a stick. <-sarcasm

I have found that in addition to the regular things that most girls look for in a guy I also have a weird ranking system that most other women do not have.

Normal                                                   Me

Buys flowers                                         Has hand raised baby (raccoon/opossum/cow/deer/etc.)

Respectful                                             Can fix farm equipment (bonus points if with bare hands)

Romantic                                               Finds hay stacking/cow checking/fourwheeling romantic

Good conversationalist                     Can use chainsaw and gun, preferably not at the same time

In good shape                                       How high can he throw hay

Cares about appearance                    Smells like: coal smoke, diesel fuel, hydraulic fluid

Takes me to nice/cool places            Has sexy farm animals/tractors

Etc.                                                          Etc.

 

Needless to say I was devastated when Boyfriend and I broke up a few months ago. I felt a crushing sense of depression. I have so many weird little ticks and idiosyncrasies that I really felt like I would be doomed to be alone forever. The echoing moos across the hills would be my only music. Horse hugs would be the extent of my comfort. In short, since I was so dedicated to my farm lifestyle it was a choice between being alone and doing what I love, or being in love and doing what made me miserable. I chose to stick to my guns with my lifestyle choice, and lead the life of a hermit if need be. I pictured the ends of my days driving a tractor across a barren landscape hopping off to cut bale strings to the agitated bawling of newborn calves, and I was strangely okay with it. After all, I’m tweaked a little differently. I don’t particularly want a life of leisure, and if a guy can’t appreciate my work ethic and lifestyle choices I would probably make him miserable in the long run. I wouldn’t want to do that to someone I cared for.

So what is a girl with horrible dating skills to do? Use redneck pick up lines?

“You can come drive your t-posts at my place anytime.” Suggestive wink…

“You’re right. I don’t need vinyl fence boards. I need wood. Badly.” Come hither look…

“Would you like to follow me home and plow my field?” Hint of a suggestive chin tilt…

Somehow I really don’t see those working out for me. I mean. They’d work on me, but it would take a special someone for me to use them on. But then again, maybe when I find a guy that I can share a glass of wine and swap “things the dogs drug into the yard” stories with maybe he will appreciate those too.

Because I giggle like a moron every time I read them.

Maybe I should just become a nun…