Let’s Get It On: Intercourse in PA

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

Cue Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On (listen while you read this… It’ll get you in the mood.)

I made it to the horny towns of Pennsylvania Dutch Country! Another one to check off the Bucket List!

Pennsylvania is beautiful! One of the prettiest states when it comes to rolling green hills of the countryside. It’s no wonder they use photos of the farms and silos for puzzle pictures. I was in Dutch Country for a few days… and I fell in love with the place! The folks are very friendly, and the towns clean – in looks, if not in name.

I always thought the Amish were on the conservative side, until I learned they sure do like to like kinky names for their towns. Let’s take a tour – with our date – through…

Horny (in) Pennsylvania: Bird-in-Hand, Intercourse, Paradise, Fertility, Virginville, Blue Ball.

Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania... It's more than just a hot date...

Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania… It’s more than just a hot date…

Bird-in-Hand is where you start… But, wait! There’s more…

Why did the Amish woman divorce her husband?

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

He was driving her buggy.

Dang, I’m funny.

For as conservative as they seem, the Amish do have a healthy sense of humor. Around Pennsylvania Amish Country – with provocatively named towns like Intercourse and Blue Ball (post coming soon, no pun intended) – are giant Amish statues, with bare feet. One has a name: Big Amos. I don’t know if he’s famous. *rim shot* I’m on a roll.

This is Big Amos, the giant barefoot Amish statue. He's in Strasburg, PA, standing next to regular buggy.

This is Big Amos, the giant barefoot Amish statue. He’s seen standing next to regular buggy, at the Hershey Farm Restaurant & Inn, in Strasburg, PA.

Big Amos, barefoot Amish giant statue.

Big Amos, barefoot Amish giant statue.

Does it look like he’s got nail polish on his toenails? I didn’t notice at the time, but it looks like a French pedicure. But, wait! There’s more…

See a man about a horse: Amish Country, PA

Kernut the Blond Posted on by
The horse isn't supposed to look at us.

The horse isn’t supposed to look at us.

In a post about clichés on Writersdigest.com, in a comment by G-Girl2 I found this clever poem…

You have half a mind to give me a piece
of your mind, but you’d better beware—
what you’re giving away freely to others
is something you really can’t spare.

You’ve given your all, put your back into it;
you’ve given it the old college try.
I’d love to help you brainstorm,
but I’ve other fish to fry.

So just hold your horses, get off your high horse,
Then get on the horse once more.
Tired of horses yet? No? Well okay,
I can still think of three or four.

I eat like a horse, and with little remorse,
I beat them when they’re dead.
I have to pee like a Russian racehorse
(but that’s prob’ly better left unsaid).

I’ll hitch to the one that is winning,
and look in its mouth of course.
You’ll be glad to know, it’s the end of the flow;
I need to see a man about a horse.

You all know how I love But, wait! There’s more…

But where are you FROM?

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

“Where are you from?”

I can not count the number of times I’ve been asked that question in the last week, but I do know it is greater than in my entire life up to this point.

I must have an accent.

“Where are you from,” they ask, curiosity mixed with just a hint of suspicion.

It’s a trick question because few will accept the truth.

It’s always an odd question for full-time RVers… How do you explain to people you don’t have a home base? You aren’t “from” anywhere. If you say you aren’t from anywhere, they don’t understand. They can’t imagine not being from somewhere.

But these folks don’t know I’m an RVer when they ask. I tell them I am a full-time RVer and I travel full-time. And, still…

Everybody else: “But where are you FROM?”

Me: “I was born in New Jersey, but I wasn’t even two years old when we moved.”

Everybody else: *blank look* “So you’re from New Jersey? I know someone else from New Jersey.”

Me: “That’s just where I was born. I don’t remember anything about it. I lived in California for many years. That’s where I was living when I bought my RV four and a half years ago, got rid of my stick-and-brick, and most of my stuff, and left in my RV.”

Everybody else: “Oh, so you’re from California.”

Me: *sigh* “No, But, wait! There’s more…

The Life of Pye: The day Pye locked me out of the RV

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

Remind me again, Why do I have a cat?

Better yet, why do I have THIS cat?

Fair warning: This is long, and kind of ranty.

The trip was already going far too slowly: It had taken me 13 hours to get 2.5 hours away. I was behind schedule by an entire day. I was supposed to be in the Texas panhandle by Sunday late afternoon, and working by Monday morning. But the RV needed a couple minor things (air in tires and a new battery – NO THANKS AT ALL TO PROGRESSIVE’S ROADSIDE-LACK-OF-ASSISTANCE PROVIDER, AGERO.) Read the first part of my adventure to get caught up.

So now it’s late Monday morning. I’m in the middle of small town America, somewhere in the Texas panhandle. After the sleepless night at Wal-Mart and a second long day on small, bumpy country roads, I have made it only as far as Crosbyton, Texas.

The day Pye locked me out of the RV

Pye hates the RV when it moves, and is positively stir crazy when we’re not driving down the road. She hates riding in the RV more than Checkers ever did and wants to get out as soon as it stops. Refusing to see the pattern of never being let out in a new place, she yowls at the door, and tries pawing at the door handles. (You see where this is going, don’t you?) After two solid days on the road she is done.

I slept late to make up for the lack of sleep the night before, feeling guilty the entire time because I know I’m already not going to make it to the top of the Texas panhandle by that night, even without the compulsory stop in Amarillo to see my top bucket list item, the Cadillac Ranch.  But, wait! There’s more…

“Hello from the other side”

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

(sung to the tune of Adele’s “Hello”…)

Hello from the other side

I must’ve gone a thousand miles

I’m sorry but it’s long past time for me to move on

For such a long time you were my home

But not anymore

Hello from the other side

I borrowed this from Adele’s new song “Hello”, (if you don’t know what this is, you should play it…. and possibly get out more). I rewrote the song, just a little. I’m sure she won’t mind, you know, because my version is clearly awesome.

Just as how I can’t tell short story, this is my (long) way of saying I have moved – and will be almost outside of Texas by the time you read this. (I know! I can hardly believe it myself.)

But let me back up a bit…

It took me 13 hours to go 2 1/2 hours.

Huh? What is she talking about now?

I left La Grange at 7:45 a.m. and got to Gatesville, about 2 1/2 hours away, thirteen hours later. I like to take a leisurely drive on my way to any location, but not that leisurely. This was hours of waiting for minor issues to be taken care of, and for Progressive to get their head out of their ass… But, wait! There’s more…

Gonna bang you like a screen door blowing in a hurricane

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

“Gonna bang you like a screen door blowing in a hurricane.”

I laughed so hard when I first heard that!

Do you know how long I had to wait for a good storm so I could use that title? Months. MONTHS, I tell you. (If you recall, during the last big storm in Texas Hill Country I was pleasantly, fortunately, blessedly in another state.)

But this is Texas, so I knew it would only be a matter of time until there was a big storm wherever I was at. Like all things they do big in Texas, storms are at the top of the list. And so is the flooding. Many of you may recall the flooding of two years ago.

Leave it to me to find another RV park with a river that floods. Mind you, I’m on a completely. different. river. this time around. Ya, like that mattered.

This is a series of photos taken at three intervals, over about 20 hours. (Click below to see the photos.)

But, wait! There’s more…

World’s Largest Gingerbread Cartman in Smithville

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

Have you ever watched South Park? That show cracks me up. If you have closed captioning turned on, it shows you what Kenny is saying. His lines are some of the most raunchy of the show. Not that I’d know anything about that.

Anyhoo, if you aren’t familiar with the show then this post won’t make much sense, but that shouldn’t matter. Many of my posts don’t make much sense, so what’s one more. However, if you are familiar with the show…

…you should know there’s a giant gingerbread Cartman in Smithville, Texas.

Cartman, watching the clock in downtown Smithville, Texas.

Cartman, watching the clock in downtown Smithville, Texas.

 

The World’s Largest Gingerbread Cookie

As you can see by his name tag, his real name is Smitty. Smitty helped put Smithville, Texas, in the Guinness World Record Book for the largest gingerbread cookie. But, wait! There’s more…

That dog don’t hunt, and them chickens don’t lay eggs.

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

Texas and Southern US saying, “That dog don’t hunt.” Meaning: This idea or excuse won’t work, this thing doesn’t work correctly. The expression originated in the American South, where dogs are commonly used to hunt. Also put as “that old dog won’t hunt.” It originated in the late 1800s. – according to The Web.

Evolution kills... note the chicken.

Evolution kills… note the chicken at the end.

Tales From the RV Park: The chickens that don’t lay eggs

A neighbor with a stick-and-brick (that’s full-time RVer lingo for “house”) went on vacation. He asked me to take care of his chickens and barn kitties. (“Barn kitty” or “barn cat” is country lingo for cats that live outside your country house to help keep down the rodent and snake populations. They’re fed some kibbles, but generally not treated like a revered pet. Sometimes they’re socialized, but not usually allowed inside the main house.) 

Actually, my neighbor didn’t care so much about the barn kitties (welcome to the south), but he did care about the chickens (again, welcome to the south). The chickens that don’t lay eggs.

Do we LOOK like we lay eggs? Nope, we don't.

“Do we LOOK like we lay eggs? Yeah, we fooled the guy who bought us, too.”

There are eight hens and one rooster. Eight of them are physically capable of laying eggs. Five of the hens are old enough – over seven months – but they don’t lay eggs. There’s got to be something wrong with them.

I told my neighbor we ought to But, wait! There’s more…

Lessons From Zen Master Pye – Feeding the Cat

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

On the third anniversary of the date Pye graced my doorstep with her presence, I think it no small coincidence the Pope graced the U.S. with his presence. I watched the ceremonies with rapt attention. I’m not Catholic, but I do greatly respect Pope Francis and appreciate what he’s doing for the Catholic church and Christianity as a whole. 

In honor of these two great events, the third anniversary of Life with Pye and Pope Francis’ visit to the U.S., I present another guest post from Zen Master Pye: Feeding the Cat. For those of you wondering, per Zen Master Pye’s insistence I have converted most of her LOLspeak to English for the ease of learning the lessons. 

Pye fishing for a minnow.

Pye fishing for a minnow. (Don’t worry – the minnow was never in any real danger.)

Lesson Two – Feeding the Cat

Oh Hai! This iz Zen Master Pye, your teacher in teh wayz of the Zen from da kittehs point of view. Today we will learn about feeding da cat Zen Master and the importance of doing so in a timely manner.

If the kitteh wakes you before the sun rises, this means it is time to feed the kitteh. But, wait! There’s more…