Cornhole games

Most of you know that I spent much of my life living in Dallas, TX. It's kind of the south, but not really, more southwest. People have strange twangs, but not true southern accents (ok, some of them have ridiculous accents, but that's another post). They eat a lot of fried food, they love their beer and country music, a lot of them are racists. But, until I moved to Virginia, I did not realize that Texas was not truly south. I love Virginia, but whew boy! Half the time I'm not sure what language the natives are speaking (these would be the same people that spout off "learn English" to anyone who doesn't look, or sound, American). The country music is worse, the racism, not as bad as I expected, the bar-b-que, worth dying for. But, the biggest surprise is their love of cornhole.



Go ahead and look puzzled while trying not to giggle like a 12 year old boy. Apparently cornhole is a very, VERY popular game. You try to throw bags, filled with corn, through a hole in a board. Hence the name, cornhole. I guess some people have tried to change the name (why? why would you want to do that?) but it hasn't taken (what's wrong with beanbags?). The first time we heard about it was an article in the paper. Wes read the headline, "Cornhole is a favorite" and said, "cornhole IS great!" I don't think he actually read the article. Ahem! During this summer, cornhole has been EVERYWHERE. On the radio (come down and play cornhole with us!), in the paper (come down and play cornhole with us!) and in the neighbors yards (come over and play cornhole with us!)! And every single time, I have to fight not to giggle like a 12 year old boy. (This reminds me of when my very virginal sister was about to get married and we were at lunch with our mom when my sister asked if Christians were allowed to be freaky in bed. My mom and I kind of looked at each other and asked what she meant by freaky. She said, "oral sex" and then my mom and I tried not to die laughing, because neither one of us consider that freaky (if you ever meet my mom, pretend you don't know that about her) and said that was fine. Boy, my sister would be embarrassed if she knew about my husband's love of "cornhole." And this writing is a perfect example of why my advisor thought I would never be able to write a dissertation.) Anyway, I have yet to play a game of cornhole, even though I know at least two of our neighbors own the game. I guess I just think your cornhole games should be private.