Redneck Review

Thursday, June 30, 2005

The Bad Luck Garage

We don't spend too much time around the garage. Things just go
wrong. Wednesday, for example.

The boys wanted to set off some fireworks that were left over from
last year. #1 son got out the box. He got safety glasses for himself
and his brother. Now before you go saying that I am a big over-
protective nerd, get this: their dad lost the sight in his left eye because
when he was 14, he leaned over a parachute firework that didn't
go off, and then it did. So he says they must wear the safety glasses
or no fireworks.

I had just finished spraying part of the porch for ants with some
Save-A-Lot generic wasp and hornet spray (hey, if it's bad for
them, it must be bad for ants, too) and set the can on the shelf
by the garage door. I opened up the door and pushed the button
to open the big door so we could walk through to the carport.

#1 son handed me two punks. "Here, Mom, light these for us."
I grabbed them both about an inch from the end to light them
with a lighter. It took a minute, then SIZZLE! Sparks shot out
in all directions. I screamed, and ran down the sidewalk to the
parking area beside the garage. The boy had given me sparklers
instead of punks. I had noticed they were kind of gray, not brown.
But they had wooden sticks at the end. I thought they had turned
color from aging for a year. #1 turned color: white. He didn't
know they were sparklers, either. Good thing we didn't blow
up the car and the garage, what with the fresh bug spray and all.

Poor garage. We find the cats' dead treasures there: mice, birds,
baby moles, frogs, snakes. We also found our poor dead kitty,
Gizmo, there. He was curled up in his box "sleeping" as we left
for school one morning. #1 reached in to pet him, and got a
funny look and said, "Mom, I think you need to look at him."
He was still warm, but dead. He looked like he was asleep.

#2 son had his own bad luck in the garage. He was just a little
shaver, about 3 years old. He was clutching a chocolate-chip
granola bar (only the most nutritious breakfasts for my boys)
and squeezed it too hard. Half of it fell on the garage floor.
He screamed that he wanted it. I told him to eat the half he
had in his hand. NO! I said I would go in and get him another
one. NO! So, I did what any redneck mother in a hurry to
get to work would do....I picked it up and gave it to him. The
tears stopped, and all was right with the world. (This was
before we had any cats.)

The first time Hillbilly Husband backed our "new" used
Suburban out of the garage, he broke off the passenger
mirror. That was about a $100 error.

And then there was the untimely demise of Mr. Kickball.
Beware the horror that is my garage!

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Road Treasure

My Hillbilly Husband's latest treasure, picked up from the
road Monday evening. He says it's a linchpin, worth $10. Posted by Hello

One Man's Junk

I want to put my Hillbilly Husband on TV with his own show: One
Man's Junk. I think I will call him HH from now on. HH finds so many
treasures we are running out of room. Way back when I started my
blog, I told you about the perfectly good swimming pool that he
stored in the back of the truck for a while. My picture of the outhouse
shows the flexible sewer pipe that he found in a subdivision near work.
We have a barn, a shed, a garage, and 1/4 of a basement filled with
his treasures.

Monday night we were cruising along on the way to town to a Pee
Wee Baseball game, and all at once the Yukon slid to a stop. I slid
out of my seat and rammed into the dash (always wear your seatbelt,
kids--and darn you, leather seats!). We were going down a little hill
onto a low-water bridge, and HH put the car in park and got out.
Yeah, we live in the boonies. He walked back and picked up something
out of the road. Some piece of metal that he said was a linchpin. At
first he said he was getting it out of the road so a car (meaning me,
who is so blind and old and stupid that I would run over that metal
chunk is what I think he meant) would not hit it. Then he said, "That
is worth $10. I'll take it home and use it to pull the haywagon or the
lawnmower trailer."

I should have known before I married him that there was a reason
the people at the apartment complex pool said in unison: "Here
comes Sanford and Sons," when HH and his boys pulled in driving
a multicolored Chevy pickup. He can't pass up a bargain. By that
I mean something cast off along the road. He even got me to doing it.
I once stopped right in front of the Daily Journal office to pick up
a piece of white J-channel, which is the corner stuff that vinyl siding
hooks into. And to make matters even more embarrassing than
stopping in the middle of a main road in town and getting out and
trying to stuff an 8' strip of vinyl into a Toyota is the fact that HH
said, "Well, I'm glad you got it, but I can't use it. It's been run over
too many times."

So we started teasing HH about his $10 linchpin treasure, and he
said, "That's a lot of money. You boys have it too easy. When I
was a kid I had to work for my money. Do you know what my
first job paid?"

And we all answered "You pumped gas for all the soda and candy
you could eat." Because we have heard this many times before.
HH said after the first few days, he couldn't eat near as much candy
or soda. He worked 12 hours a day on weekends for candy.

Then he told us a new story. He shot birds with his BB gun for the
lady next door. Being a smartypants, I said, "What, like that would
get rid of them? More would just fly in to take their place."

HH said, "She didn't do it to get rid of them. It was for her cats.
She felt sorry for them because they watched birds out the window
and couldn't catch them."

"They were for the cats to play with?"

"No. For the cats to eat."


"She even bought our BBs, and paid us 5 cents a bird."

Now the boys were really laughing. "Dad! You did all
that for 5 cents a bird? Hey! I just saw 15 cents fly by!"

"Wasn't that a lot of work for a few cents?"

"We shot 4 or 5 a day."

"WooHoo! 20 or 25 cents. What did you spend that on?"

"That was a lot of money back then. I could get a chocolate
soda for 5 cents."

"Eeeww. No wonder. It was a chocolate soda."

"Hey, I thought you got all the soda you could drink anyway."

"No. This was before, when I was younger. Go on and make
fun. I had to work for my money."

"Yeah, like you wouldn't shoot birds anyway."

On the way home after the game, there was a car parked in
the dirt down by that creek. "Look," said smart-alecky #1 son.
"I bet that guy is looking for his linchpin."

Answers to Hillbilly Mom's Movie Challenge v 5.0

And the winner this week is......Rebecca with 9 correct answers, a
new record here at the Hillbilly Cinema. Other results were: new entry
le laquet with 7 (you'd better worry, Rebecca), Redneck Diva and
Alexandrialeigh both improving a whole bunch with 5 apiece, and
Deadpanann with 2 (she's too busy for movies lately). Thanks for
entering, and we'll try again on Saturday.

Here are the correct answers:

1. "You soaked his underwear in meat?"
Cheaper by the Dozen

2. "Stop that fake Dolly!"
Miss Congeniality 2

3. "Please Sir, may I have some more?"

4. "Fellas, we're in a tight spot."
O Brother Where Art Thou

5. "We keep the children right around here..."
Daddy Daycare (OK, this was a hard one. The old gypsy-looking
lady on the porch tells Eddie Murphy and Regina King, and leads
them around the house to some cellar doors.)

6. "Don't ever feed them after midnight."

7. "What's she doing here?"
"I carried a watermelon."
Dirty Dancing

8. "Have you tasted yourself lately?"
Garfield: The Movie

9. "That would be harsher punishment for parole violators, Stan
...and world peace."
Miss Congeniality

10. "Fred, these are your pens and your pencils. And Fred, these
are my pens and my pencils."
Little Man Tate

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

New Favorite Saying

My new favorite saying is brought to you by my 10-year-old son,
courtesy of a trip to the Pee Wee Baseball game Monday night.

We were headed home, and the following conversation occurred:

#2 son: GameBoy, please.

Me: You're not getting it. I said if you didn't stop picking up dirt,
you couldn't have it.

#2 son: No you didn't.

Me: Yes I did. I told Dad to tell you when he came over to 3rd base
and said to quit throwing dirt and get off the base.

#2 son: Well he didn't. And nobody ever throws me the ball anyway.

Dad: I didn't tell him that. I didn't hear you say it.

Me: And anyway, you're in trouble for trying to take over 1st base
and not moving when the coach told you to.

#2 son: Well nobody every throws it to me on 3rd. So I went to 1st.

Me: That other boy plays 1st. Where was the boy that rolls in the dirt?

#2 son: I think they took him off.

#1 son: He probably didn't come because it rained, and that would
spoil his dirt-rolling, Imbecile.

Dad: That's it. You're going to your room when we get home!

#1 son:!

Me: It's your own fault. We tell you all the time not to call names.

#1 son: Well, isn't this just one big not-listening party!

That's it. My new favorite saying: "Well, isn't this just one big
not-listening party!" Yep. It pretty much describes life around
the old Hillbilly Mansion.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Childhood Memories

I have been tagged by Redneck Diva for the Childhood Memories
meme, so here goes:

Five Things I Really Miss From Childhood

1. Christmas Eve-the anticipation can not be matched in adulthood.
My mom said when she was a kid, the neighbor would come over
and ask the kids to come to their house for some cookies and hot
chocolate. Every year, she and her three brothers went, and every
year when they got back home, Santa had been there! Oh, the bad
timing! We went to Grandma's (Mom's mom) every Christmas Eve.
That whole side of the family was there. The kids always got
presents from everyone, and the adults drew names. The best
present I ever got there was a little cardboard box full of Barbie
clothes. Grandma always cooked up a pot of chili, and we had
hot dogs, Oberle sausage, cheese, crackers, cookies. We drove
home listening to Christmas songs on the radio. Every time, I would
try to lie awake to see Santa. As the years went on, I was sure it
was really my parents, so I would try to stay awake to prove it.
No such luck. I was never one to snoop for presents. I liked to
be surprised. Christmas morning we were up at the crack of dawn
(or before) to open presents. Stockings first. Then the loot under
the tree. After that, we went next door to Grandma's (Dad's mom)
for breakfast and presents with that side of the family. What I
remember most about this is that Dad and Grandpa did the cooking.
They cracked the eggs into a glass, added milk, and stirred. That
seemed wrong to me. And speaking of wrong, Grandpa put salsa
on his scrambled eggs, and ketchup on his biscuits and gravy. He
always had a jar of pickled pigs feet in the fridge, too. And he was
thin as a rail. No wonder, with a diet like that.

2. Scholastic Book Orders-OK, we've pretty much established that
I was a geek. I LOVED to read. I couldn't wait for book order day.
I usually got 3 or 4 books. Sometimes I snuck a few paragraphs by
lifting my desktop like I was getting a pencil or some paper. I also
loved the time after lunch recess when the teacher read to us to
calm us down. The Bobbsey Twins, The Boxcar Children, Little
House on the Prairie series, all were quite absorbing.

3. Summer of Driving-you know, that first summer you have your
license. You can come and go as you please. We went swimming
at the slime pond, a lake left by the St. Joe Lead Company after
mining all the good stuff out from under us. This was in the days
before the state park. To get there, we had to go to the Sports
Complex and take a little dirt path across this very fine dust until
we reached Monsanto Lake. I don't know how that name came
about. This road was not marked, you just followed the tire marks
of other cars, hoping they had gone to the lake and not off to cut
donuts. We spent the day at the lake, floating on air mattresses
in the shallow water, anchored by resting the head end on the
sand. It was a great time to talk about who was dating who, who
was stalking who, who was breaking up, etc. These were always
girls only trips. At night we would cruise back and forth though
town, honking at our friends. Sometimes we took my yellow
Chevette, sometimes my friend's brown station wagon, or our
other friend's cream-colored Plymouth Valiant.

4. Endless summer-didn't it last forever when you were a kid?
We didn't wear shoes except for thongs. Yes, people, back in
my day, thongs went on your feet, not up your butt. Who started
this infernal nonsense, calling thongs "flip-flops" and panties "thongs?"
We always had something to do: ride bikes, explore the creek,
make clay pots, play army, play ball, play pool, ride the wagon
down the hill, play kick-the-can, swing, play doctor (!), go to
the pool, the candy store, the library, the roller-skating rink, pick
blackberries, go camping, go to Grandma's, a Cardinal's game,
sleep outside, play Johnny West horses, sew horseblankets for
all the horses, cook marbles in Grandpa's basement. There was
never a dull moment.

5. My neighborhood-it was a quiet street where we could ride
bikes or sleds in the road. We could walk to the library, or the
candy store, or to school. There were 7 houses on our block,
and 5 had kids and another was my grandma and grandpa.
There were 15 of us kids, various ages, so always someone
to play with. In the afternoon, the Sug's Sweet Shop van cruised
the neighborhood, ringing a bell. We always bought sno-cones.
In the evening, it was the Mr. Tastee Freeze truck. This was a
peaceful, no-stress, neighborhood. People owned their homes,
went to work, mowed their yards, all with no bickering.

I'm not going to tag anyone with this meme. If you want it,
take it. I am done with it now.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle....

If the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, then the brain that
files the details rules the house. When did I become the database
for every item and activity in this family? Can't find it? Ask me. Oh,
I don't want you to...but that is what happens around here.

Lose your GameBoy? Here it is, in the couch. Your report card?
Right there in the box, where I told you and you said you looked.
The 2004 personal property tax receipt? Why look! It's in the
drawer where I have placed it every year for the last 10 years!

Is this a man thing? Do we not hold our boys responsible for taking
care of themselves? Are we such caretakers that we want to attend
to their every need?

Yesterday morning, Hubby was off to a family reunion. One of his
relatives (duh!) had called to tell him two weeks ago. He was out
getting gas or some lumber or a haircut or a load of rock or the oil
changed (translation: soda and a donut), so I took the message. I had
just stepped out of the shower, so I didn't write it down. But I told
him as soon as he got home. I figured my job was done. But nooo....

Ten minutes before it was time to leave for the reunion picnic,
Hubby says, "Are you sure that it's today?"

"Well, let's see...two weeks ago she called and said it would be in
two weeks. You said that would be at the end of your vacation
week. Like today. I didn't think I'd have to remember it."

"But they always have it the last Saturday in July."

"Which is probably why she called to tell you."

"Well, in my calendar, I always mark it the last Saturday in July."

"Is it written in there?"

"No. On my calendar at work, I wrote it for today."

"OK then."

Good gracious! He didn't even know my birthday for the first ten
years we were married. Oh, I got a card and present on time. Then
at one of the Christmas parties at his boss's house, a secretary
let it slip that she always had to remind him when it was.

And this is from a man who says he can still remember people's
license plate numbers from when he worked in a gas station in his
teens. Great. Congratulations. In what freakish universe would this
be remotely useful?

This is the man who volunteered to go to the grocery one time when
I was pregnant with #1 son. I gave him a list. He came home minus
$35 and with not one thing on the list. But we had a lot of cookies
and ice cream. He said he lost the list. Between home and the store,
a trek of about 3 miles. And the reason he went ahead and spent
$35 was because he thought of calling me to ask what was on the
list, but decided against it, because he knew I would yell at him. As
opposed to what I'd do when he came home with nothing on the
list and $35 worth of junk food.

OK, I'm done complaining for today. Hubby is good at killing
spiders with his bare hands, and cleaning up vomit, and picking off
ticks, and BBQing, and lawnmowing, and getting rid of dead
possums, and changing light bulbs, and taking out the trash.

And yes, the reunion was yesterday, and Hubby and #1 son had
a good time.

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Note to Self: Don't Watch This at Night

All right, I did it again. I got to watching the Travel Channel tonight.
I'd already seen Loretta Lynn's Haunted Plantation. But there was
this other show called Most Haunted or something like that. It was
on at 8:00 p.m., so I started watching. #1 son was at his computer,
heard it, and came over to watch with me. We should know better.
We are both big squawking crybaby chickens.

This team from the show went to an old house somewhere in
England.( I have never been good with geography or history, because
I always had a football coach for a teacher, and let's just say I learned
more about grunting Neanderthals picking on sissy boys than I'll ever
need to know.) And by old, I mean this place was built in the 1500's.
For a while it was an orphanage, then it was a home, now it is an inn.

The owners reported that people saw a dark figure in the bedrooms
and a lady on the steps, heard voices, heard children, the maid was
shoved by an entity in the bathroom, their lampshade in their
bedroom shot off the lamp and across the room, and their son
was thrown out
of his bed and came crying to them with a
handprint on his neck and
won't go upstairs unless an adult
goes with him.

People, this might be a sign that you should not live here. Maybe
you might want to look for a place that is...oh, I don't know,
maybe... not 500 freakin' years old!

So the team had 24 hours to find something. They sat in the rooms
with absolutely no light. They all felt creepy. Their two psychics
told them about some cruel bully spirit that wanted them out. The
woman heard someone whisper in her ear and freaked out in the
basement. Almost all of them, at one time or another, in different
rooms, felt someone touch the back of their head, or got a bad
headache in the back of the head. Interesting. A psychic got
"possessed" by the spirit and threw a lamp. This is the part that
looked fake to me. He growled, "You want confrontation?"
I said that to #1 son as he kept bopping back over to his computer.
It freaked him out, so he came back to the couch and put a blanket
over his head. Ain't I one good mama?

The worst part was when 3 guys sat in a dark bedroom and
taunted the spirit. "If you're here, show yourself. If you're really
what we think you are. Give us some sign." A couple of the guys
saw lights, but they didn't get them on camera. Then this guy said,
"Show yourself to 3 men. Or can you only show children? I am
not afraid of you." At that point, there was a thump, and some
light, and the guys screamed like little girls and grabbed each other
and headed toward the door. The TV had come on by itself. There
was just static. One guy was almost crying. He wanted out of the
room. He mumbled something about how now they were going to
see or hear something through the TV. I guess he saw Poltergeist.
Not me. Too creepy. They showed how the remote was setting
right on top of the TV, not in reach of where the guys had been
sitting. The rest of the team came running. One guy picked up the
remote, turned the TV off, then back on. It had a picture with no
static. The guys spent the rest of the night in the production van.

OK. Now if you are on a show looking for spirits, and you flat
out ask the spirits to show themselves, why do you freak out when
they do? Did you not really believe in the first place? A piece of
advice: if you are afraid to see them, don't ask for them to make
themselves known! And don't get smart with them. Sheesh, people.
This is common sense.

There was another episode right after, but scaredycat didn't want it.
Now I'm sitting here with the lights on while I type. I never leave
the lights on here in my cozy little basement office with no windows.
Lights make a glare on my screen. But now I have spooked myself
and I am afraid of the dark. I will leave on my office lights while I
go out to the main basement and turn on the big light not just the
lamp. Because I don't want a repeat of the time I saw that guy with
no head. And if you didn't hear that story, it is somewhere in my
ghost stories from June 2-7 in the archives.

Chicken little is asleep on the basement couch where he prefers
to sleep every night instead of in his nice upstairs room with the
bunk beds and a big window and a little octagon window right by
the top bunk. "It's too scary, Mom. That window by the bed."
Well, I think a dark basement where your mama saw a headless
man is just a bit scarier, but hey, to each his own.

And the next time he backtalks me, I'm going to growl, "You
want confrontation?"

Hillbilly Mom's Movie Challenge v 5.0

Saturday again, and time for the movie challenge. Good luck to all
who dare to enter. Answers will be posted on Wednesday, June 29.
Winner will win absolutely nothing except their name and link in my
blog. Post answers in the comments. Have at it, folks:

1. "You soaked his underwear in meat?"

2. "Stop that fake Dolly!"

3. "Please, Sir, may I have some more?"

4. "Fellas, we're in a tight spot."

5. "We keep the children right around here...."

6. "Don't ever feed them after midnight."

7. "What's she doing here?"
"I carried a watermelon."

8. "Have you tasted yourself lately?"

9. "That would be harsher punishment for parole violators, Stan
....and world peace."

10. "Fred, these are your pens and your pencils. And Fred, these
are my pens and my pencils."

Friday, June 24, 2005

Mysteries of My Universe Part 1

Sometimes I wonder:

How can Doritos make your breath smell so bad for so long?
(because my kid almost made me faint with Dorito breath)

Why were people sad about the very old very sick Pope's death?
(because if anyone is going to Heaven, wouldn't it surely be the Pope?
and Heaven is the ultimate goal, right?and we all have to die sometime)

If no one is around to see you, do you eat food you drop on the floor?
(because my students act so persnickety about throwing something
away the minute they drop it...except for one kid who ate a box of
Nerds off the floor one by one)

How can men sneeze 37 times in a row?
(because I've never heard women do this serial sneezing thing)

How can teenage boys fart on cue?
(because they do, you know, just ask any middle school teacher)

Why don't more people know that cocktail sauce is just ketchup
mixed with horseradish? (because you can easily make it yourself)

Why would 20 out of 21 teachers and the instructor at a Character
Education workshop that dwells on doing the right thing IGNORE
a high school girl screaming " out!" to high school boys
who had chased her into the girls' bathroom? (because it wasn't
even my school district, and I was the only one to go out into the
hall to shoo them away)

How can people confuse the words "recipe" and "receipt" ????
(because someone found my site in a google search for "receipt
amaretto sour")

Why do I have 30 visitors today and 125 page loads?
(because it seems like the boss was away and people at work
must have been bored)

Who told the families who run the Chinese restaurants in my county
to hang Christmas lights for ambience? (because that seems to me
to be kind of an interior-decorating faux pas)

Why can't I come up with something interesting to post on this blog?
(no mystery to this one...because I MUST spend 2 hours each morning
watching ER reruns on TNT)

Thursday, June 23, 2005

The first thing we saw upon entering Bass Pro Shop. Great idea, teaching kids to play with snakes. Posted by Hello

Hillbilly Vacation

Redneck Diva has asked to hear about our trip to Branson (imagine
that!), so here it is. No, don't get up...I'm bringing out the slides later.

First of all, it was a 5 hour drive. With 2 kids. And 1 husband. Hubby
has a medical problem that inhibits his driving, which is called
gawking at everything but the road and you are going to kill us
then I will haunt you for the rest of your life and afterlife!!!
OK, now we have established what kind of rider I am. Now I don't
actually want to drive, myself. I just want to control his driving. Before
you go thinking: what an incredibly egotistical controlling battleaxe,
let me illustrate.

Near Branson, Hwy 65 kind of gets backed up. We know this. We
go every year. But Hubby was eyeballing some barn or tractor or
other such exotic item in a field, and had to slam on the brakes. We
almost rear-ended a line of traffic stopped on the highway. Just after
my heartrate returned to normal, I turned around from threatening the
kids with a trip to spankytown, and saw that we were now driving
down the right shoulder. Completely on the shoulder, no rubber on
the road itself. So of course I shouted to Hubby, "What are you
doing?" and he yanked the giant-SUV-that-should-have-its-own-zip-
code back onto the road. Then he said quite possibly the dumbest
thing I have heard in the last 16 years, which was, "I don't know if
it was me or the road." Duh! I'll be glad to figure it out for you!

We only stayed one night this year, so we didn't make it to Silver
Dollar City. Or as one of my friends used to call it: Steal-Your-
Dollar City. We did go to the Dixie Stampede. Front row seats. In
most places that is a good thing. At Dixie Stampede, it means that
during your dinner, horses throw dirt clods into you food. But I do
really like the show. One of the girl riders threw a carnation to #2
son, and he was very proud of it. Of course we had to find a
way to protect it and bring it home.

We usually stay down the strip by The Track so we are close to
go-carts, but this time we stayed at the Grand Country Inn. They
have everything there, including the World's Largest Fiddle sticking
out the front of the building. (Yes, Redneck Diva, we saw it.)
The kids liked the indoor water park, and we had lunch and
breakfast there too. Or I should say we paid $3.95 for #2 son to
take one bite out of an apple and take one sip of orange juice.

We could see the Dixie Stampede building from our parking lot.
Hubby wanted to walk. "It's only about a quarter-mile," he said.
I did not want to walk, because first of all I am a lazy slob, and
secondly, walking there means you also have to walk back, and
most importantly, I have to tow a 55-pound child like a
battleship anchor wherever I go. He can only hold Mom's
hand, not Dad's. And that was no quarter-mile. So we drove,
which took about 10 minutes, and that is good for Branson
Saturday night traffic. And guess what, the odometer said it
was 8/10 mile. I didn't run the mile for my high school track
team for nothin', baby. I can judge distances. And you know
what they say about men and measuring. Oh, you don't? Sorry,
I can't explain it here. Seems Hubby is backwards, though, under-
estimating instead of overestimating.

We also rode go-carts and bumper boats. #2 son spared me
some embarrassment this year, as he actually drove his bumper
boat to the side when his turn was up. Last year he kept going,
grinning from ear to ear. Of course, Hubby, brother, and I were
screaming at him, "Park it now!" Everyone was staring: the
others who had just parked, the ones waiting in line for their
turn, and all the families lined up around the fence to watch their
normal children who knew how to follow the rules. Somehow,
he just didn't hear us. He grinned even bigger. One of the girls
working the boats had to jump into the waist-deep water, chase
him for a lap around the water-spouting whale, and tow him back.
We made a little trip to the car after that, just me and my boy.
I think he remembered that this year.

We played miniature golf at the Pirate's Cove on Sunday morning,
where I soundly beat Hubby and boys. (Woo hoo! I'm going on
the Old Lady Miniature Golf Tour of Champions!) On the way home
we made a stop at Bass Pro Shop because we hadn't been there
for years, and wanted #2 son to see it. Of course, he just wanted
a Happy Meal from the McDonalds inside. We had to stop at the
Case Knife outlet and Russell Stover candy outlet in Lebanon.
it was time to head home to the hillbilly mansion and cement
pond. A good time was had by all.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Here is the logo I will use for my newly created superhero, SNIPE. Beware, evildoers! Posted by Hello

"Undies on the Outside" BB Challenge v 11

Hmmm....Rebecca's week wasn't very long this time. Here's my
new Big Blogger challenge: pick a superhero who can save the
world, and choose a sidekick from the former members of the
Cyberhouse. I choose to create my own superhero identity, so
here goes....

I am the incredibly sharp-tongued superhero, "SNIPE." Oh, no, don't want to come a-huntin' me. I can wither people
with a single scathing comment from my finely-honed tongue.
Nobody is safe: world leaders, evil-doers (OK, some are one
and the same), candy-from-baby-stealers, prep-insulting-stoner-
students, my-poo-don't-stink snobs, bosses-from-hell, and even
the lowest-of-all-life-forms, the plagiarizer, are not safe in my

I will seek you out and embarrass you to death. Got a skeleton
in the closet? I'll drag him out for Snipe & Tell. Did you pee the
bed? Pick your nose? Forget to flush? Wear raggedy stained
underwear to the ER? Leave toilet paper flapping out of your
pants? Make out with someone (gasp) unpopular? Never make
out at all? Drink from the milk jug? Put an empty Little Debbie
snack cake box back in the pantry? "Borrow" from petty cash?
I will find out, and you will pay!!!!!

My illustrious sidekick is "Mosha." After drinking 7 bottles of
wine, she becomes a kick-a$$ skank-dancer. She also gives
free lessons in kickboxing computers, and chopping potatoes
with an axe, though she will never ever become a prostitute
because that will give her Parkinson's Disease or Multiple Sclerosis.
This distracts the bad guys while I question their so-called best
friends to get the dirt. And believe me, they do tell, as long as
they start out by saying, "Don't tell anybody I told you this, but..."

Once I have their deep dark secrets, it is curtains for the villains.
I mince no words, though my tongue is so sharp it can mince
onions or other odiferous and cruciferous vegetables. I am quite
suited to the job, because as everyone who knows me well is
aware: people piss me off! All day. Every day.

Answers to Hillbilly Mom's Movie Challenge v 4.0

Well, it looks like this week Rebecca barely pulled through with
the win. She had her toughest competition to date from newcomer
Rose, (who left no forwarding address), finishing in 2nd place by
only one movie. Hey, Rebecca, you got your usual eight right.
You might be right about the Scary Movie for #10, but the one
I was thinking of was Rose's answer, and after all, it IS my contest.
Rose had 7 out of 10. We also had Redneck Diva improving on
her previous personal best of one, setting a new mark for herself
with two. Try, try again on Saturday. Here are the results:

1. "You are scaring the freaks."
"I present to you, the New York Giants."
The lemur-in-charge in Madagascar.

2. "Put her in the trunk."
"She won't fit."
"Hack off her legs!"
Christina Applegate, Keith Coogan, and Danielle Harris in
Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead.

3. "Now I want you to go out there and hit the pace car."
"Because it's the only thing you haven't hit."
Robert Duvall to Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder.

4. "Want me to make you some sandwiches?"
Cloris Leachman, Brett Kelly, Billy Bob Thornton in
Bad Santa.

5. "What would you give me for a basketfull of kisses?"
"I'd give you a basketfull of hugs."
William Hopper, Nancy Kelly to Patty McCormack in
The Bad Seed.

6. "This one time, at Band Camp,....."
Alyson Hannigan in American Pie

7. "Redrum! Redrum!"
Tony-the-talking-finger in The Shining.

8. "Do you know what her high school nickname was? Fingercuffs."
Jason Lee to Ben Affleck in Chasing Amy.

9. "Let's try it again. Only this time, I'm going to stick my tongue in
your mouth. And when I do that, I want you to massage my tongue
with yours. And that's what first base is."
Sarah Michelle Gellar to Selma Blair in Cruel Intentions.

10. Same as #9. Mia Kirshner to Beverly Polcyn in Not Another
Teen Movie.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

"I Know What You Did Last Blog" BB Challenge v 10

It's been going on since mid-May, and now there are four of us
left in Rebecca's Big Blogger Contest. This week's assignment is
to stalk another member of the Cyberhouse. Bwah ha ha!

I know what you did last blog. Oh yes, I like to watch. And I've
been watching you for quite a while now. Hiding in the basement
isn't going to get rid of me. I can hear those beer bottles tinkling.
And don't think that buying taawwl cans is going to fool me.

I was there when you made fun of a guy's wife for smothering
him. And while he was trying to sing her a love song, too. You'd
better stick to those little redneck bars where the roaches and
off-duty cops come to drink.

Don't tell me I am doing wrong. I am no worse than you, spying
on those poor welfare people. They are just trying to buy groceries.
They don't need you sniffing their crab legs and steaks. And
remind me never to follow you too closely to a gas station. I don't
want to wait in line behind you while you snark it out with the
employee of the month who is only trying to make her miserable
existence more bearable by tuning in to her TV show of choice
before taking your money. So what if you have to wait a minute
or 30? I just don't want to be waiting behind you for the police
to show up, or for her to remove your severed hand from the
metal money tray and fling it at you.

Did you bring in the eggs yet? Because the last I saw, you were
playing in the corn like Stu Redman in The Stand. I saw you
tormenting the geese by moving their escape hole, and making
them swim in a redneck pool. And what about your poor
little nephew? At least buy the kid name-brand cereal to stick
up his nose.

You'd better get used to someone watching you constanty if
you are planning to be a teacher. Oh yes...what I do is nothing
compared to what students will do. They will find out everything
about you in approximately 2.47 hours. The internet is a wonderful
stalking (I mean educational) tool. You won't be able to do so
much as set Wally's lawnmower on fire before they know all
about it.

Well, it seems as though it's time for me to go now. I was minding
your ( own) business when you reached under the couch
and pulled out.....OWW! What was...HEY! You just hit me in
the head with a copy of The Poisonwood Bible! No fair!

Just for that, I'm going to find someone else to stalk.
Or am I??????????

Monday, June 20, 2005

How Could This Happen?

We left around 6:00 a.m. for our trip to Branson. Since we were
traveling with kids, we made pert near 87 rest stops on our 5-hour
trip. And that is where I came across a very strange sight indeed.

At the I-44 rest stop just south of Rolla, a woman came out of the
restroom just as I was walking in. "Sir, could you come in here a
minute?" she called to some guy walking into the men's room.

What? I kept going, because, you know, I had to go. I went into
the first stall. Here came lady and man traipsing right behind me.
Now why would someone do that? Was this some scam they had
going? What self-respecting man would walk right into the ladies'
room, no questions asked? Ooops! I forgot. We're talking about
men. So the answer would be: all of them.

"Man coming in!" the woman hollered, even though he was right
on her heels. I stood in my stall to see how this show was going
to unfold. They walked past me. "She's in the handicapped stall
and can't get out. You might have to crawl under the door and
unlock it."

What? If she couldn't unlock it, how could he? Unless she was
very very handicapped, and if so, then she shouldn't have been
in a bathroom stall alone.

The guy went, "Huh." Then the door popped open. I knew this,
because the two women yelled, "Yeah! Thanks so much!" and the
guy walked out. So then I sat down to do my business, and I heard
them babbling. "He used a key. He stuck it in there and the door
popped right open!" And the other one said "I wondered how
he made it open so easy." And the first one said, "Aren't they so
smart?" Uh...well....apparently so, since you couldn't even get out
of a bathroom stall without the help of a big strong Mensa man.

Now these women were probably in their early sixties, and didn't
look like there was anything wrong with them. Have you ever
been stuck in a bathroom stall at a rest stop? Because let me tell
you, the only problem I have ever had with the door was that it
will not latch, and I had to put my head against it and try to
balance myself. And even when the doors latch, if you bump
the walls, they spring open. I don't know what that guy did with
a key. He must have put it in that crack between the door and
the frame.

I can't figure this one out. Unless these were hillbilly gals going
to town, and they were used to the wooden latch on the outhouse

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Yucca (I'm not very fond of these plants).

Summer in Redneckland, and the yucca plants are blooming.
My husband dug these up from graveyards, right-of-ways,
and private property. Shhh....don't tell anyone. Hey! He pays
for rocks, but wants his plants for free! Posted by Hello

Make Yourself At Home

(Hope my links work. I don't know why they are in different colors.
The links, not the disclaimer. I am technologically challenged).

I'm off to Branson this weekend, THE place to be in the summer
if you're a Hillbilly or a Hillbilly-Wanna-Be. Stacy at Outwit, Outblog,
was kind enough to invite people to visit me. How did you
know I was going away for the weekend, Stacy? I hope you're not
planning to have one of those Risky Business parties at my house.
You know how that little Tommy Cruise has been crying for
attention lately. And you know that old saying..."While Hillbilly Mom's
away, the mice will play." (Sorry, Redneck Diva, to bring up the
mouse issue).

Sooo....welcome to the Hillbilly Haunted Mansion, or as some call
it, the Redneckville Horror. Sorry I'm not here to host this
hootenanny, but you first-time visitors, feel free to walk around the
estate. Set a spell on the porch. Clothes are optional, since Hubby
has been known to relax on the front porch in just his underwear.
His summer tighty-whities, not his winter red longjohns. And
Finslippy, even though he begs me to call him "Hubs" or "Hubster,"
I think "Hubby" is more fitting to a man of his physique.

Y'all can visit the Hillbilly Fishpond, just off the back deck. If you feel
like skinnydipping, the Redneck Swimming Pool is now filled-up, and
open for business. For those auto buffs, take a look at the
collector truck, or go for a spin in the $300 car
. Bring the young'uns?
Turn them loose
in the Redneck Kids Clubhouse. Sorry, there will be
kick-ball this summer.

I hope you haven't been drinking the water or the moonshine while
eyeballing my Redneck memorabilia. If you need to use the facilities,
I'm sorry to have locked you out of the Redneck Bathroom. But you
still have the outhouse and the great outdoors to use for a toilet.

Please don't play with the chipmunks or the possums unless your
tetanus shot has been updated within the last 10 years.

I'll be back in Redneckland Sunday night. Please have your party
mess cleaned up by then, people. Don't make me come over there!

Disclaimer: Not responsible for accidents. Enter at your own risk.
No lifeguard on duty. Boil water before drinking. Moonshine may
cause sudden irreversible blindness. Figures sold separately. Do not
try this at home. Professional driver on closed course. No diving.
May cause intestinal discomfort. For external use only. Batteries
not included. Parental guidance suggested. Must be this tall to enter.
May cause drowsiness. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Hillbilly Mom's Movie Challenge v 4.0

(I'm putting this up a little early, since I'll be gone this weekend).

Saturday, and it's time for the Bad Movie challenge. Enter, if you
dare admit that you have seen some of these bad movies! Answers
will be posted on Wednesday, June 22.

Good luck!

1. "You are scaring the freaks!"
"I present to you, the New York Giants."

2. "Put her in the trunk."
"She won't fit."
"Hack off her legs!"

3. "Now I want you to go out there and hit the pace car."
"Because it's the only car you haven't hit."

4. "Want me to make you some sandwiches?"

5. "What would you give me for a basketfull of kisses?"
"I'd give you a basketfull of hugs."

6. "This one time, at Band Camp, ......"

7. "Redrum! Redrum!"

8. "Do you know what her high school nickname was? Fingercuffs."

9. "Let's try it again. Only this time, I'm going to stick my tongue in
your mouth. And when I do that, I want you to massage my tongue
with yours. And that's what first base is."

10. Exactly the same quote as #9. Yep, there were two movies with
the exact same quote. Hint: one was a parody of the other.

Friday, June 17, 2005

How d'ya like them hedgeapples? Posted by Hello

Summertimes Gone By

When I was a kid, my hillbilly grandparents kept all of us grandkids
for a week or two in the summer. There were six of us, three sets of
siblings, ages around 5,7,9,12,12,15.

There was plenty to do. We got to sleep outside under the mimosa
tree. We had to move the lounge chairs on wheels from under the
hedgeapple tree, because we could get conked on the head by a
hedgeapple overnight. Grandma and Grandpa put some plywood
on sawhorses, and brought out their mattress. We fell asleep looking
at the stars, and listening to the whipporwills. We woke up when
the sun came up, with dew on our faces.

During the day, we could pick up buckets of hedgeapples and
throw them down the sinkhole, or across the road. We thought
it was fun. G & G were getting their yard cleaned up. We could
go fishing in the pond in the hog lot. Oh, did I mention that they
raised pigs? If we couldn't dig a bunch of grubworms (translation:
beetle larva, ugh!), Grandma gave us baloney or hot dogs for bait.
We had to watch out for the hogs. One time the old boar chased
me and my 12-year-old girl cousin. She jumped that fence like a
hurdler, giving me time to crawl through because he chased her.

In the afternoon, Grandma played cut-throat croquet with us in
the front yard. She was out for blood. She could not stand to lose.
If she bumped our ball, she put her foot on hers and pounded
that mallet into it, driving ours across the blacktop road into the
woods. Whining "...but we're just little kids, Grandma." did no
good. "That's the rules," she told us. She'd beat the pants off of
us for a couple games, then go in to cook supper.

I'm sure she made foods we'd eat, but the ones I remember are
the ones that shocked me. Greens. Now why would anyone want
to eat boiled dandelion weeds that they dug up next to the driveway?
Then there were turnips, hominy, and cooked cabbage. My pig-
fishing cousin and I would compete for the cabbage core while
Grandma was cutting up the cabbage. Now if my mom had sat
me down and served me a raw cabbage core for supper, I would
have revolted. But at Grandma's, it was a delicacy worth fighting for.
I know we had fried chicken, because we also fought over the heart
and gizzard. And we got to watch Grandma wring the chicken's
neck, and watch the headless body run around.

We played a game called "Annie, Annie, Over," which I guess is
a real game. We divided into teams, put one team on each side of
the house, and threw a rubber ball over the roof. If you caught it,
you ran around the house and tried to hit the other team with the
ball before they could run around to your side. Sometimes the ball
lodged behind the chimney, so we had to get the ladder and send
boy cousin up on the roof to get it.

In the afternoon, when Grandpa got home from his shift at the
lead mines around 3:30, we all worked in the garden. We weeded,
or picked dill and cucumbers for Grandma to make pickles. We
picked corn, which I didn't like to husk because of the worms,
and tomatoes. My favorite was to pick up the potatoes after
Grandma hoed the hill. I didn't like picking the green beans--too
much work. Then we would sit under the big hedgeapple tree while
Grandma snapped the beans to cook for supper. Grandpa gave
us turns "driving" the tractor.

We could go with Grandpa to feed the hogs. He poured corn
in a big white plastic bucket. Once we climbed through the fence,
he poured out some piles of corn in the dirt so the hogs would
eat and not follow us. Then we went up into the woodsy part
to the pens with the sows and piglets. That was the best part.
He would count them to see if any were missing, or if the sow
had rolled over and smothered any of them. He lifted up some
piglets by their tails so we could see them and hear them squeal.

At night we'd watch TV for a while, usually a Cardinals game.
Grandma made us popcorn, the real kind popped in a pan with
oil, and drizzled with butter melted in another pan. None of that
microwave stuff like today.

Sometimes we went for walks down in the woods, where the
older cousins would try to persuade us younger ones to smoke
grapevines. It looked kind of stupid to me, but they seemed to
like it.

Some mornings Grandma would let boy cousin drive us a couple
miles to a little store in her white Ford Galaxy 500. We sat quietly
on the back seat so we wouldn't make the 12-year-old driver
nervous. Once we got there, she gave us each 50 cents to buy
candy, which she called "junk."

If it rained, we could work a jigsaw puzzle on the dining room
table. Grandma worked nightshift at the state hospital, and often
brought home a puzzle to work, then took it back and brought
another one. No wonder those people were crazy, because
those puzzles were seascapes and blue sky. If we were lucky,
there might be a lighthouse or some clouds. Otherwise, we had
to put together the edges, then hope for the best with all the blue

My kids have opportunities and material things that I didn't have
growing up, but they will never have memories like mine.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Evicting Mr. I Don't Know

The time has come, Mr. I Don't Know, to pack your bags and
hit the road. I don't care where you go. How about a few months
with your shiftless cousin, Mr. Not Me, over at the Family Circus?

"Why must I leave?" you ask? It has come to my attention that
things would run more smoothly without you here. This is a partial
list of your offenses:

  • Mud tracked through the living room, kitchen, and basement.
  • Wet swimming trunks in the laundry sink for 2 days.
  • Used paper plates left on the cutting block.
  • Nintendo controller cord stretched across my office door.
  • Thingamajunk appears 5 seconds after cleaning off a surface.
  • Pee on the toilet seat.
  • Pee on the toilet lid.
  • Pee on the floor.
  • Dirty clothes thrown beside the hamper.
  • Big black handprints around the light switches.
  • Mini Chips Ahoy bag on the floor by the TV.
  • 8 pairs of shoes by the front door.
  • 4 walkie talkies on the kitchen counter.
  • Empty toilet paper roll.
  • Empty fruit roll-up box in the pantry.
  • Crushed Apple Jack on the kitchen floor.
  • Open bags in cereal boxes.
  • 3 out of 4 phones not on the chargers.
  • 4 squares missing from new Hershey's Dark Chocolate bar.
  • Empty BBQ chip bag in the pantry.
  • 2 pairs of underwear on the bathroom floor.
  • Blanket on the floor beside the couch.
  • GameBoy DS, SP, & metal & canvas cases on back of couch.
  • Debit card used, but no receipt or checkbook entry.
  • Cell phone scavenger hunt.
  • Missing MP3.
  • Missing CD player.
  • 4 motherboards lined up under living room window.
  • Faces drawn in dust on TV screen.
  • Crack in glass collector's case.
  • Superball in bathroom sink drain.
  • Tootsie roll pop stick in houseplant pot.
  • All-in-one printer quit feeding paper. You were last seen with it.
  • DVDs missing from cases.
  • Sound turned to max volume on TV.
It might be different, Mr. I Don't Know, if you could help me solve
some of these mysteries. Or at least help me correct the problems.
But you just look at me blankly, like everyone else, eyebrows raised.

And as far as that Hershey bar that Hillbilly Grandma bought me,
telling me that you only took one piece (well, yes, you admit, it
happened to be 4 squares but they were all in one piece) and you
really didn't even like dark chocolate anyway so you quit eating it
does not help your case in the least.

Oh, and when I mentioned that you should pack your bags...we both
know there is no need of that, because they have been sitting against
the wall on my side of the bed since you got back from your last
trip one month ago. I'll merely move them to the curb, just before
I kick you there.

Hit the road, Jack, and don't you come back no more! Y'hear?

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Poor Kirby! What will Nintendo cook up next? Posted by Hello

Double Nintendo?

What is with Nintendo and their commercials? I was watching
cartoons with #2 son at lunch yesterday, and saw the new one
for Kirby Canvas Curse for the Nintendo DS. And it looked
inappropriate for kids.

Now I am not an old fogey, and I am not a religious fanatic.
In fact, when my trivia team gets a question about the Bible,
the other teachers on my team look at me, sigh, and talk amongst
themselves. But I think this new commercial must be an inside
joke with the ad people. I only saw it once, so bear with me.

It starts with cute little Kirby and this big tall thing that is supposed
to be a finger. But to me, it looks more like a phallus. There is music
such as "So Happy Together" or something like that. They go
walking down a road. The finger/phallus thingy pokes Kirby in the
back. At some point, Kirby jumps up and down on the lying-down
finger/phallus thingy. And at the end of the commercial, it goes to
black screen and the Nintendo logo and some sentence like
"Touching is good." Is this some kind of double entendre
or innuendo?

Whoa! This is during little kids' cartoons. What kind of subliminal
message might they be getting from this? Sure my 7 year old doesn't
get it. But what about some 11/12/13 year old? They watch cartoons.
And they notice other stuff too. I have walked into the classroom
after the bell to hear my 7th grade boys discussing "Bob" and "Enzyte"
and "natural male enhancement." At least they had the good sense to
shut up when I walked in.

Now I understand that the main feature of the Nintendo DS system
is a stylus and two screens. You use the stylus on the bottom screen
to control movement by touching the screen. So I know what they
are getting at with the "touch" angle. But there must be a better way.
My kids have Nintendo DS systems, and the key word here people
is stylus, not phallus. You don't even use a finger, because the stylus
is much more effective.

I could not find a link to this commercial that worked, so if you
haven't seen it, you won't have a clue what I'm ranting about.
It just seems inappropriate to me at the kid level.

Answers to Movie Challenge 3.0

Well, this week we have a tie for 1st place: Alexandrialeigh and
DeadpanAnn both got two right. In 2nd place was Redneck Diva
with one. Thanks for playing. And come on back, Rebecca. The
bad movie world needs to hear from you. We will be having another
challenge on Saturday.

Here are the answers to Saturday's Movie Challenge:

1. "How'd you get the beans above the frank?"
There's Something About Mary. Mary's stepdad to Ben Stiller

2. "We're not bad people, Mac. We're just underachievers."
Scotland PA. Maura Tierney to James LeGros, planning to
kill his boss. (You've gotta see this one: Macbeth in the 1970's).

3. "Tina! Eat some ham."
Napoleon Dynamite. Jon Heder to a llama

4. "Here's a stick to beat the lovely lady."
The Quiet Man. A town lady to John Wayne

5. "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window."
The Sound of Music. Julie Andrews as she is kicked out of the convent.

6. "I think this is one of those places where they would rather see
you dance, than me dance."
Forces of Nature. Sandra Bullock to Ben Affleck, tricking him into
dancing for money in a gay bar.

7. "Now start using your head! That's that lump about 3 feet
above your a$$!"
A League of Their Own. Tom Hanks to Bitty Schram, just before
there's no crying in baseball.

8. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."
Roadhouse. Patrick Swayze to Kevin Tighe, after firing workers
to clean up the bar.

9. "Why do you ask so many questions?"
"I'm a kid. That's my job."
Uncle Buck. John Candy and Macaulay Culkin
(Right actor, wrong movie, DeadpanAnn.)

10. "And Coach? That scholarship? All the way with a red-hot poker!"
One on One. Robby Benson to G.D. Spradlin

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

So What You're Saying Is....

What kind of shorthand do you have with your friends? You know,
the phrases you use that mean something to you, but others don't
know what you're talking about (thus enabling you to make fun of
them without getting your butt kicked.)

Of couse I have reformed and don't make fun of people any more (!)
Here are some of my old ones:

Do-Not: as in "He's such a do-not, don't even bother."
Means: a person who is a clueless loser.

KD: as in "Where'd you get that lovely KD?"
Means: a bad hair day. Taken from "Katie Douglas", the character
on the TV show My Three Sons who always had a huge bouffant.

Rat It Up a Little Bit: as in "Nice KD. You might want to rat it up a
little bit."
Means: fix your hair. Cause my mom was always trying to use her
"rat-tail" comb on me. Eewww. No wonder I didn't want it near me.

Honk and Wave the Other Way: as in "That b!*$#. Next time I see her
I'm going to honk and wave the other way."
Means: to insult someone who has been a snob to you.

Lebinda: as in "You are such a Lebinda!"
Means: a very stupid girl. Named after our neighbor, Belinda, who
was really, really, dumb.

Close Personal Friend: as in "I think that's his close personal friend."
Means: the significant other of a gay person. Because we had this
teacher in college who always said, "I have this close personal friend who...."

It's Always on the Left: as in "It's always on the left, you do-not!"
Means: you have just said something incredibly stupid. After a friend
who advised us to stop for food at Wendy's, because it would be
easy to get back on the road, since "Wendy's is always on the left."

So, Basically What You're Saying Is... as in "I had to do a load of laundry
and take the trash out to the curb, so basically what you're saying is..."
Means: you are so boring that I wasn't listening at all, so repeat the whole thing.

Sabbatical Leave: as in "I heard she went on sabbatical leave, but
hasn't told anyone."
Means: fired. Because a friend rented someone's house after the
someone went on sabbatical leave and never returned.

She's Very Good At Her Job: as in "Di is very good at her job (whatever
it is that she does.")
Means: someone who doesn't do crap all day except wander the
building. After a co-worker who was constantly visiting her "boyfriend"
all day.

Contessa: as in "You don't have to be such a contessa about everything."
Means: OK, so you all know what this one means...and spelled with a "u".

All Right, Mary Kay: as in "All right, Mary Kay, that's a little too much information."
Means: you shouldn't know so much about the students' personal lives.
Named after Mary Kay Letourneau.

Writing A Letter To Emily: as in "I'll do it in a minute. I'm writing a letter to Emily."
Means: to go poop. Because my son used to stand at the computer and
tap at the keyboard before he was potty-trained, and he would say he
was writing a letter to his cousin, Emily.

So...what code words do you use to make fun of people?

Monday, June 13, 2005

My Lovely Green Shirt, Jeannie

Careful...objects in picture are
older, fatter, and soberer than
they appear! This is the
Lovely Green Shirt, Jeannie
in all her glory.Posted by Hello

Ode to My Lovely Green Shirt, Jeannie

Here is my entry for Big Blogger Rebecca's Challenge #10.

There are about 10 people in my life that will understand this
ode. But that's OK. I get it, and one other regular reader will get
it. And that's all you need in life, isn't it? At least one person that
really "gets" your sense of humor. Read on, if you dare. Or come
back tomorrow.

And now, my ode to a long-lost friend I have outgrown.....

Ode to My Lovely Green Shirt, Jeannie

O, Green Jeannie, how I miss your soft touch on my skin.
Through all the good times I simply took you for granted.
I found you at the army surplus store called "FM,"
Near tents with holes, and other shirts, their stripes wrongly slanted.
We partied, and learned diversity's hilarious side,
Thirty folks plus one-bedroom apartment equals knocks
From those not invited; that a peephole should have glass
In the tube, not just air. The El Camino Hayride,
Jeannie, and Redneck Christmas Party: I was quite the fox.
As partiers, Jeannie, we kicked considerable a$$.

Named by the roommate who sold plasma for a living,
Liked My Three Sons; Fred MacMurray introducing his wife.
"This is my lovely wife, Jeannie." I was touched by her giving
You that special name. I still laugh at that time in my life.
St. Pat's Lovely Green Jeannie Party exhalted your name.
You, Jeannie, gave me nerve to "borrow" some mugs from the bar...
Amaretto sour and shot glasses, also came home.
You led me, Jeannie, to things that are now not OK
In this life I've carved, where thrill is a $300 car.
They may think they know, but they have no idea: our former life, in this poem.

Oh, yeeaahh! I ain't no poet, and eeeeeverybody knows it!

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Ritual of Summer

Preparing the Redneck Pool.

It's been a lazy morning around the redneck hillbilly mansion.
Hubby and the boys have been filling the pool for summer.
It will be several days of begging and whining while we wait
for the well water to warm up and be swimmable. Oh, and
the boys will be whining, too.

Though not too noticeable in this picture, the boys were
finishing their redneck breakfast of root beer and Milky Way
bars. Actually, cereal and milk were on the menu, but Hubby
took them to the barn for something, and they got into his
not-so-secret stash.

Being rednecks, they couldn't just walk the 100 yards to the
barn--they took the 4-wheeler. If you look closely, you will
see that redneck Hubby has added a milk crate to the handlebars
of his 4-wheeler. I didn't know what it was for until #1 son said
Hubby had given #2 son a ride in it. That did not go over well
with me, because how dangerous is that? Why do I make him
wear a seat belt in the car? He might as well sit out on the hood.

I took this picture from the back porch. I am glad that my kids
are little pansies and would not dream of jumping from the porch
into the pool. I have students at school who say they jump off the
roof of the house into the pool. I hope their pool is bigger than
this one. It is, of course, a Wal-mart pool. It is the 18' one, that
is supposed to be 48" or 42" deep. #2 son will have to wear a
life jacket. He has no fat to float him. He is notorious for drinking
pool water.

I don't know why they think it is exciting to sit and watch a pool
fill up. To me that is about as exciting as watching cars go around
and around a track. Ooops! Sorry NASCAR fans.

It must be a redneck thing.

Posted by Hello

Saturday, June 11, 2005


I saw that Redneck Diva's sister was guest blogging Friday,
and she gave me the most scathingly brilliant idea. Well, an idea,
anyway. I noticed that she was going by the name of Taterbug.
That got me to thinking about nicknames that I have heard in my
Redneck life, and how much I'd like to share those with you.
Some are from childhood, some from college, some from schools.
If you hear your nickname, don't automatically assume I'm talking
about you. Because it isn't all about you, you know. Oh, and some
may not be politically correct. They are not meant to be malicious.
Some of us just didn't know no better.

So here they are, in all their glory, and in no particular order:

mad dog, juana, mooner, normal, mouse, hunky, night train, ratface,
amazon child, the gimp, that one girl, lazy eye, whore of 8th floor,
doll hair, forehead, cat-suck hair, ferd, roadhaz, sac, bean, cheddar,
that mountainous growing girl, lebinda, the kid, child bride, the hump,
tomato face, rip, horseface, pignose, beachball head, fudgepacker,
grandpadad, peterpuller, that dirty girl, twindaddy, tatoo boy,
poor black box, melody/harmony, bighead, ski-nose/butt-chin,
blackjack, the nudists, sleep, cartire, tuna, bore moore, tater, boo,
pud, penrod, the incredible hunk. And, of course, Bubba.

That concludes your trip down Redneck Nickname Lane. Please
move in an orderly fashion to Hillbilly Mom's Movie Challenge.
Single file, please, no need to push. There is room for everyone.

Hillbilly Mom's Movie Challenge v 3.0

Well, it's Saturday, and time for my Bad Movie Challenge. Please
play along if you have ever watched a bad movie and will admit to
it. Some of the movies aren't bad, but most of them are. This week,
I will throw in a couple of classics, for those of you who were
stumped by last week's quotes.

And Alexandrialeigh, I added a couple for you. You may not know
the movie, but I think you will recognize the quotes as some of the
things you hate people to say. How convenient that I was making
up my list, saw your post Friday, and had just heard these quotes
the day before.

Leave your answers in the comments. Correct answers will be posted
on Wednesday, June 15. You may begin.

1. "How'd you get the beans above the frank?"

2. "We're not bad people, Mac. We're just underachievers."

3. "Tina! Eat some ham."

4. "Here's a stick to beat the lovely lady."

5. "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window."

6. "I think this is one of those places where they would rather see
you dance, than me dance."

7. "Now you start using your head! That's that lump about 3 feet
above your a$$. !"

8. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."

9. "Why do you ask so many questions?"
"I'm a kid. That's my job."

10. "And Coach? That scholarship? All the way with a red-hot poker."

Friday, June 10, 2005

"I'm making a list and checking it twice..."
Posted by Hello

Dating Horror Stories

Yesterday's post made me think of a dating horror story from my
friend "Kelsie," who used to live in my apartment complex. Kelsie
was a teacher at a neighboring redneck school district. Of course,
her middle school students were always trying to set her up with
their relatives. Wisely, she resisted these offers.

Kelsie frequently complained that there was no one in this area
to date. Sometime close to Halloween, one of her school district's
bus drivers asked her out. She thought about it for a while, and
decided that since she knew him, it would be OK.

I can't remember the specifics of the date, even though she came
over to tell me about it when she got home that night. I don't think
he did anything too bad, or I would remember it. It seems like
they just didn't hit it off. She saw him at school, and when he
asked her out again, she told him no, that she didn't want to date
anyone for a while. He said that was fine, and that was the end
of it. Or so she thought.

A couple weeks before Christmas, Kelsie came over with an
envelope in her hand. "Look at this and tell me what you think."

I opened it. It was a Christmas card. On the front was Santa with
his list. The caption read: "I'm making a list and checking it twice..."

"Open it," Kelsie said.

Inside it was blank, with the handwritten message: "AND
YOU'RE NOT ON IT, B!%@# " (only he spelled out the
"B" word.)

Kelsie was really disturbed by that card. She figured the guy
must be a psycho to hold a grudge that long. For the rest of
the school year she avoided him. She never told anyone at
school about it, because she thought it was her fault for going
out with him in the first place.

The moral of this story, if there is one: Don't break up with a
psycho until after Christmas.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Here is the New! Improved! Hillbilly Fish Pond.
What do you think? Old or new? Was it worth a couple
hundred bucks to improve this money-sucking fish pond?
Most of the moolah went for rocks. No, people, rocks
are not free, even in Redneckland. think rocks
grow on trees? What's the matter with you people?
My chief complaint with the old one was the green water.
I do believe that has not changed. Which looks better?
Posted by Hello

This is the old Hillbilly Fish Pond.
Posted by Hello

Bad Date 101

It is hot hot hot this week. Lower nineties, high humidity. I sweat
when I just look outside. Which of course reminds me of a story...

Back in the day, when I was out of high school, but still living at
home and attending junior college (hey, it was 5 miles away and
I had a scholarship), I had my worst date ever. It was even worse
than my he's going to murder me and hide the body date that I
blogged about last week.

"Kevin" was the boyfriend of one of my high school friends who
had gone off to college on a volleyball scholarship. Her, not him,
because around here boys don't play volleyball. "Denise" was
home for the summer. Kevin got it in his head that we should
double date. "I've got just the guy for you," he said.

"Roger" was a nice-enough guy. He was older than us, though,
by about 6-7 years. That is way older when you still think like
a kid. He was an adult. He even had a real job, a writer for the
St. Louis Post Dispatch. He was very polite and mature. I didn't
dislike Roger, but there was certainly no love connection there.

Kevin decided we would go to St. Louis to a movie. He volunteered
to drive his Jeep CJ5, which, though not exactly a luxury sedan,
was our best option. I had a Chevy Vega, Denise had a Mustang,
and Roger had some little sportscar. You know those writers--they
are just made of money.

The day of the big date rolled around, and the temperature had to
be in the 90s. It was one of those muggy, not-quite-sunny-not-quite-
cloudy days. Being from Redneckland, both men rode in the front
seats of the Jeep. Denise and I squeezed into the back. I don't mean
squeezed because we were fat--she was 5'10 and I was 5'8. We
folded up our legs and tried to catch a breath of air. Believe it or
not, this Jeep had no air conditioning. Kevin had on the canvas top,
but the flaps didn't give us much of a breeze in the back.

The ride from Redneckland to South County Mall took an hour.
During this time, the only conversation was between Kevin and
Roger. There was so much road noise that we couldn't talk to
the guys. When we got there, Denise and I were soaked with
sweat. I don't mean a little under the armpits, or on the upper lip.
My hair was dripping. Sweat had run down my back and down
my front. The whole waist area of my jeans was soaking wet.
Denise was as sweaty as me. The guys had normal sweat. I did
not even want to go in, I was so embarrassed. But we did. And
sweat makes you very cold in the air conditioning. At least it was
dark. I don't remember anything about after the movie, or the
ride home. I do remember the movie: The Frisco Kid.

To this day, I can not stand Gene Wilder.

I went out with Roger again, to dinner at some pizza restaurant
in Festus. That was only 30 minutes away, and we took his
sportscar. Roger ordered a pitcher of beer. And one glass. OK,
we're clear that he's an adult and I'm not. That kind of irked me.
I felt like a child. After that, I didn't really want to continue things
with Roger.

He dropped by one afternoon while I was on my carport shooting
baskets. Because there's nothing else to do in Hooterville during
the summer. You can only go to the slime pond ( it's
the state park) to swim in the left-over lead-contaminated lake
so many times. So I'm all sweaty, standing in the sun, and here
comes Mr. Roger down the driveway. I kept shooting. He came
over and made a little small talk about how he'd been thinking
about me. Then he kissed me.

This wasn't some little peck on the cheek. This was a big ol'
tongue-stabbing slimy suck-out-my-entrails kind of kiss. I was
not prepared for it. Now this kind of kiss is fine if you want it,
and in the proper setting, but this was not it. Out of the corner
of my eye, I saw the sheer curtains of the living room window
move, and I knew my Hillbilly Mama was observing this untimely
molestation of her goody-goody daughter. That definitely did not
enhance the situation.

What did I do? I laughed. I had to break the suction of that kiss,
or my pent-up horsey guffaw was going to go right down loverboy's
throat and up into his brain cavity. The pressure might have popped
his eyeballs like one of those rubber squeezy little stress guys. I pulled
away with a 'pop' like when you open a new jar of dill pickles. "I've
got to go," I told him, putting my hand over my mouth so he couldn't
see the grin that was turning into a hysterical laugh. I ran into the
house, wiping off my mouth with the back of my hand. I left him
standing there under the basketball goal. Hillbilly Mama had made
herself scarce. I went to the window and peeped out. He stood
there a minute, then got in his sportscar and backed up the driveway.

I did not hear from Roger again. If I had know then what I know
now, I could have just told him, "Dude, I'm really not that into you."

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Where There's Smoke, There's No Hillbilly Mom

I notice that deadpanann and Vavoom have both had posts about
smoking during the past week or so. Or about quitting smoking,
to be exact. This is one problem I don't have.

Have I ever tried smoking? Yes, I admit that I have, due to peer
pressure. Unlike deadpanann, I was not an impressionable 13-
year-old. I was an impressionable 26-year-old. OK, so I was a
late bloomer.

I went to high school so long ago that the school let kids smoke.
They could smoke on the fence, or they could smoke in the student
lounge. Student lounge, you say? Yes. It was a little building out
behind the school, with tables and chairs and soda machines. You
could buy a lunch tray and take it out there if you wanted. And
there was no teacher on duty to supervise it, either. This was so
long ago that it was not uncool to smoke. It wasn't such a rebel
thing to do. This was the last days of the sex, drugs, rock & roll
era. Smoking was a pretty mild vice.

I only had one friend who smoked. I did not exactly run with the
popular crowd, but I was in sports and band with them. I never
went to their parties where they (gasp!) drank, and smoked pot,
and had sex in the dark and when the lights went on some guy
was on his sister. (I think that's an urban legend, and not actually
something unique to my high school.) So I never had any pressure
to smoke during that stage of my life.

I went away to college, and was not around many smokers there,
either. The year I lived in the dorm was the closest. They didn't
care who smoked or didn't. The people I had classes with and
hung around were those in the PE/Health department, so not
much smoking was going on there.

Then I graduated and got a real job or two in teaching, and I met
the real smokers. I do not know much about smoking, but I know
that I had two friends who each bought a carton of cigarettes a
week. I don't even know how many packs are in a carton. I do
know one of them told me he smoked two packs a day.

So I had these smoking friends, "Betty" and "Bob." We hung out
together all the time, because hey, there's nothing to do in Cuba,
Missouri. On Saturday nights, there were teacher parties, but on
Friday nights we were on our own. That meant going to one of
our houses to watch movies or play cards or Scrabble or Upwords.
I could beat them at the word games. Hey, I wasn't miss goody-
goody valedictorian for nothing. But they could beat me at poker.
So one Friday night, they decided that taking all my money wasn't
good enough--that they must also ridicule me.

We sat around Bob's kitchen table at his townhouse. There was
some ridiculous poker game in progress: Indian poker, or liars'
poker, or Dr. Pepper, or one-eyed jacks, or something. I think
they changed the rules every hand. There are probably no such
games as what they were "teaching" me.

Betty had brought some Rold Gold Pretzel Rods, our snack of
choice. She held one like a cigar, chomping on it every now and
then, when she wasn't busy actually smoking, or raking my money
into her pile. And Betty got a bright idea.

"Hey, Hillbilly Mom, what you really need is a cigarette."

"Come on, try one. Let's see what you look like smoking."

Now maybe, just maybe, there was some alcohol involved.
I wanted to go along with them. They were soooo funny. The
three of us had as much fun as is legally possible for three
people to have. Betty gave me a cigarette and lit it, and Bob
tried to show me how to hold it. So I caved to the peer pressure.

"Look at her!" Cackle, cackle.

"I can't believe how she holds it!" Guffaw.

"You look like you've never smoked before!" (Well, duh!)

"You have to inhale it." Takes a long drag to show me.

"Now tap the ashes." Pushes ashtray toward me.

"I'm gonna die laughing. She looks so funny!" Har har har.

"Uh...guys...I'm right here!" Getting annoyed.

Hee hee haw haw. "I can't stand it! Stop! Now! Falls out of
chair laughing at me.

So I tried it. And I don't know what all the fuss is about. Even
if I had looked cool, which it appears that I did not, I don't
know what people get out of it.

Unless it is a good laugh at me trying it.