Seven Degrees to Stephen Foster

1. You wake to a rainy, thunderstorm kinda day. You wonder if they issue rain-checks at The Stephen Foster Story.

2. You ask your spouse if he knows how to get to Bardstown and when he answers "yes"  and asks why you need to know, this is the exchange:
 Me (doing my best Tombstone impersonation): Stephen Foster Story. Old Dog Tray. You know, Old... Dog... Tray! Camptown Races. You know, Stephen Fucking Foster!
Hubby: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck I thought it was in Danville!

 3. You drive to Bardstown to meet your sister and her husband for The Stephen Foster Story. You see black clouds and encounter rain en route. You have a bad feeling about this evening.

 4. You get a phone call when you arrive at Bardstown. Your sister, correction, your majorly pissed off sister informs you that the tickets she ordered yesterday were not in fact the tickets that she ordered. Instead of 4 tickets to see The Stephen Foster Story, we have 4 tickets for Shrek. You and Hubby yell into the bluetooth "Stephen Fucking Foster!"

 5. You meet your sister at the ticket office and get your answer to the rain-check question. So upon the news that we were not seeing the play that night Hubby and I shook our heads and said "Stephen Fucking Foster".

 6. Just so the night was not a total bust we decide to walk around and see My Old Kentucky Home and its surrounding grounds. About 5 minutes into your turn about the grounds, your husband steps into a mole hole, twists his ankle to the point it makes a very loud popping noise, and the group walk ends abruptly.

 7. As my sister and I were speedwalking back to the cars she said "You know if that idiot on the phone had sold me the RIGHT tickets, none of this would have happened." We look each other in the eyes and say "Stephen Fucking Foster."