Since we can't plant anything until round abouts Mother's Day, there's not much new about the garden. It's still a patch of poop-covered soil in the yard. There is other news to share, though, and it's nearly as disturbing as my apparent fixation with excrement.The picture at left is of John Barillo, husband to my cousin Tref. What he is holding may look disturbing, but Tref assures me they are called Cucuzzi, or Italian zucchini, however I still harbor a suspicion that they're actually alien breeding pods.
These long dongs are described as "a vining annual, with large pubescent leaves..." I knew there was something rotten in Denmark.
John and Tref also grow stuff in their basement. If their subterranean farming efforts are as impressive as these, I fully expect some delicious "brownies" coming my way soon. (To any potential readers employed in the arena of law enforcement or service with the DEA, the above comment was JUST A JOKE.)
Here's another joke somewhat related to farming that I heard this morning:
Why do they call it PMS?
A: Because Mad Cow disease was already taken.
/ducking/
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