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No, they probably just hate TV newscasters.

Mychal Limric, a reporter for KVEW-TV in Kennewick, Wash., was doing a story on the science of beekeeping last week when bees from a hive about 50 feet away suddenly darted toward his head. Camerawoman Dao Vu and beekeeper Irv Pfeiffer tried to brush the bees off, then Pfeiffer slammed a protective hood over Limric's head _ which also turned out to contain bees _ over Limric's head.

Limric, 24, was treated at a hospital for more than 30 stings on his scalp and face. Pfeiffer said Limric's hair gel seemed the only logical catalyst for the attack. Pfeiffer and Vu, who weren't wearing any gel, were standing next to Limric but were not attacked.

Yabba dabba do, Fred Flintstone's buried here, too.

Dennis Sheehey used to say, "Boop, boop ba do, I love you" religiously. But the Catholic Church doesn't think it's an appropriate line for his tombstone. Sheehey died in April, and his family wants to put "Boop, Boop Ba Do, We Love You" on his grave marker at the Mount Olivet Cemetery in Watertown, Conn.

Hold that chisel! The cemetery, which is run by the Archdiocese of Hartford, rejected the epitaph. Under cemetery rules, epitaphs must have a religious theme. However, Sheehey's family said they've found dozens of grave markers with secular phrases at the cemetery. One reads, "Early to Bed, Early to Rise, Precious Was This Man Who Touched Our Lives."

Note to pig people: You have too much free time.

Kathy Lee's plastic pig has been skydiving, bungee jumping and rock climbing. The pint-sized pink porker has also visited Graceland, Billy Ray Cyrus and the set of Saturday Night Live.

Lee's $5.29 housewarming gift had all of these adventures and more after disappearing from her Nashville, Tenn., home more than a year and a half ago. How can she be sure? The pignappers regularly sent photos documenting the exploits of their 2-foot-tall captive. The first letter arrived within a week of the Sept. 15, 1993, disappearance. It was addressed to RESIDENT, and the return address read only "PIG." There was no message, just a photo of the pig standing on a table in an unrecognizable home.

Later pictures showed the pig on Elvis' grave, getting a Glamour makeover, and standing atop a state trooper's car in front of a barbecue restaurant with three guns pointed at its little plastic head. There were never any demands. Never a ransom request.

The pig returned last week, as mysteriously as it vanished. "It was just there on the porch when I went out to get the paper," Lee said. The pudgy fellow was accompanied by a picture of the pignappers in disguise, signed "All our love, the Pig People."

Lee is planning a "Welcome Home" party to celebrate the pig's return and hopes the pignappers come. "I have a lot of jokester friends," the schoolteacher said, "but I think they would have owned up to it by now. It's been a year and a half of fun. There's no telling how much money they spent doing this."

Of all the nursing homes in all the world, she had to roll into mine.

Three-quarters of a century after they fell in love, Marzell Stennett found Verda Tillman living down the hall from him in a Monroe, La., nursing home. Now they're newlyweds; he's 93 and she's 92.

The two met in 1919 and dated for several months, but then lost track of each other. "We never broke up. Our families just moved to different places," Mrs. Stennett said shortly after getting married in her wheelchair last week. A couple of months ago, Stennett learned that he lived on the same floor as the woman he loved. He wasted no time paying her a visit.

"I never knew what had become of him until that day that he came to my door," Mrs. Stennett said. "I knew him right away even though I hadn't seen him in 70 years."

Both had been widowed after long marriages _ 54 years for him, 58 for her. "It'll be wonderful to have someone to spend my last years with," Mrs. Stennett said with a smile.

Thanks for calling the phone company. I'm not wearing any underwear.

Herb Rhodes wasn't ready for his "True Reward." The retired Philadelphia police officer phoned AT&T from his kitchen last week to ask about its "True Reward" bonus plan and heard this: "Are you ready to get naked? If you want hard-core, uncensored, explicit sex now then come and _ ummm _ take it! It's only $2.98 per minute. Please enter your credit-card number now."

Rhodes said he had his speaker phone on at the time. "My wife dropped a pot, my daughter's mouth dropped open, and I couldn't believe it," he said.

AT&T confirmed that the wrong 800 number was printed on reports sent to 175,000 of its "True Rewards" customers. The company said the printer transposed two digits in the 800 number and that new statements with an apology had been mailed out.