The Land-Stealer and the Bomb Squad

Don't you think that would make a good title for a country song?
Sorry to disappoint you, but I will not be writing a song today, and
the two things are not actually related. I know, I know, you are
accustomed to disappointment here if you are a regular visitor.
Now lift up your head and stop stubbing your toe in the dirt. I
have a story to tell you.

A while back, I mentioned that our neighbor stole some land from
us. Or rather, he bought land that we had been planning to buy.
For 16 years. Hey, we were getting around to it. It's right next to
our BARn. You can't have just anybody build next to your beautifully
landscaped BARn, you know.

So Wednesday night, #1 son checks his computer, and says, "Hey,
I have three messages on this program I just set up." What? He
had hijacked the incoming messages from our answering machine
to his computer. Oh, and he doesn't check his computer every
night. Lucky for us, all three messages were from Wednesday.

It was our neighbor's wife. "Hey, ha ha, uh, it's me, Neighbor's
Wife. Uh, the contract on our house fell through, and, uh, we
wondered if you'd still be interested in that land. Give us a call."

So I called my Hillbilly Husband who was still at work waiting
for the bomb squad, and he said to call back RIGHT NOW
and tell them he'd call them tomorrow. Suddenly land is selling
like crystal meth at a Hell's Angels reunion, in HH's opinion.

We have since negotiated a deal on the land and are set to
start the paperwork on Tuesday. Of course, the Land-Stealer,
as #1 son calls him, is making a fortune off of us. I knew that's
what he was up to. His story is that he bought a semi truck to
go into the trucking business, and what with the price of gas
now, he can hardly make his payment, and they are having
trouble selling their house. As you can see, HH and the Land-
Stealer are not exactly Trumps at the negotiation table.


Now, to the bomb squad....HH called from work Wednesday
evening to say he might not be home until 11:30-midnight. Seems
they had an OHSA walk-through of the plant, and found some
crystalized picric acid.

According to HH, this is like having nitroglycerin sitting around
in your plant. It is highly explosive. They sent home all the workers,
and the boss and HH remained. The bomb disposal squad was
called in from St. Louis. When the main bomb guy (MBG) arrived,
he climbed out of the car and said, "Fellas, I was out to dinner when
I got the call. I have had a couple drinks." Which I guess was his
story and he's stickin' to it, cause HH said he reeked of alcohol.

The MBG looked at the jar of picric acid, and said, "That's not
a lot. I can pick up that jar, but I'm not going to open it, because
there might be crystals around the lid." He put on his flack jacket
and put the jar in a 5-gallon bucket. They sent in the robot bomb
handler thing to pick up the bucket and take it outside. There, they
had dug a hole to put it in. They put some dynamite on top, and
blew it up. HH said the flames shot 15 feet into the air, and there
was a big KABOOM like at a commercial fireworks show.

Supposedly, picric acid can last 30-40 years if it stays wet. They
have had it in the plant no longer than 7 years. The MBG said
they get called to schools a lot for it. He said he was glad the news
people hadn't got wind of it, because then they'd have to tell them
what they wanted to them to hear. "Never tell them the truth. They
are on the internet in minutes, looking it up. Then they sensationalize
it. You make up something not as dangerous to tell them."

Hmm...now I will wonder when I watch the news.

A Spooky Teacher's Tale

My 7th graders have been in a tizzy over the antics of one of their
teachers. Let's call him Mr. A. Here is their tale of terror:

Did you know that Mr. A went in the gym and tried to talk to
something? He went in about 8:15 one night, and stood on the
bulldog in the center circle. He had a recording thing with him.

Mr. A said, "Is there someone here who wants to communicate
with me?" Then he held out the recording thing. He didn't hear
anything. Next he said, "If you want to communicate, give me
some kind of sign. Anything will do. Show me something." He
didn't see or hear anything.

When Mr. A got home, he loaded the sound on his computer
to listen to it. After he asked if somebody wanted to communicate,
he heard a kind of whispery sound but couldn't tell the words.
When he said "Give me a sign," there was a high screechy sound.
He burned it to a CD, and played it for our class.

Do you think he's serious, or is he like Mr. B? You know, how
he makes up that clown story every year?

Oh, and Mr. A has a picture from when we had that assembly to
sing the National Anthem. There is the head of a woman behind
him. And she is frowning like she looks really mad.

*******************************************************

I haven't seen Mr. A, so I don't know what he's up to. We are
in different buildings. I was believing it until the picture. I think
maybe Mr. A got Photoshop and was playing around.

Today the kids said Mr. A told them it was a Halloween prank.
He told them:

Couldn't you tell that picture was a fake?

So the CD was a fake, too?

No, that was real.

NO IT WASN'T!

Okay, it wasn't. If that's what you want to believe...

They are very confused. The kid who went to the haunted
Blackwell House said Mr. A is looking in the wrong place.
He says he knows some kids who went down to the basement
cafeteria and took pictures, and when they were developed,
they had orbs of light near them in some pictures. This was about
6-7 years ago. He said, "Remember, we had funerals in the gym
for two students and that teacher that got murdered by a former
student." Yeah, that's right. Who knows? I never got those vibes
from that gym, and I used to coach in it.

Nope, but I sure got vibes from this gym. Here's even a picture
of it, but it's just an illusion in this photo. And from my own house.
Booooo! It's that time of year again.

A Kid's Spooky Tale

My 7th grade students have been all a-buzz with tales of a teacher
looking for ghosts in the gym. I'll tell that one tomorrow. I asked
one of the older kids if this teacher has been telling them the same
thing, but he said no.

However...this kid had his own tale of terror, which I would like
to steal from him (hey, he doesn't know I have a blog) and share
with you now. I will put myself in his place, so I may tell it in
first person. And now...The Blackwell Mansion:

***************************************************

A bunch of us wanted to go to this haunted house in Blackwell.
A murder happened there, and everybody says it's on public
land, and people go there all the time. My mother said I couldn't
go. I told here there was no such thing as ghosts anyway. She
said that wasn't what she was worried about--at one "haunted
hospital," a crazy guy hid out and killed people who came in
looking for ghosts.

We told my mom we were going riding around in town. Then
we went to Blackwell. Some of the guys took their paintball
guns in case some maniac was there to kill us. Cause I figure
that if I'm trying to kill somebody and he shoots me with a
paintball gun, I'll run off and quit trying to kill him, cause it
hurts. About 8 of us went.

It was dark, and we had some trouble finding the house. We
had to park by the road, and walk down a trail. I was at the
back of the group. A rabbit jumped out and they jumped. I
picked up a big rock and chucked it over in the woods. They
screamed and ran past me. I said, "Hey guys! It was me! Stop!
I won't do it again." They came back.

We found the house and went in. We were there about an hour
and a half, taking pictures. Then we went to another little building.
We came out of there, and I was stepping over a fence when I
looked up and saw a man holding a shotgun in my face. I thought
I'm going to die! My buddy was right next to me. The guy saw him
and pointed the shotgun at him. I took off running as fast as I could
to the truck. We had left Youknowwho there because, well, he's
in a wheelchair you know, and we were afraid he'd get stuck. So
he says he'd been trying to text message us "GET OUT. GET OUT
NOW!" but we couldn't get service down there.

There was another guy with a pistol. They marched everyone up
to the truck and said, "What are you doing on our land? We called
the police, and you're waiting until they get here." We sat in the
back of the truck and almost cried. Some of us were praying. We
didn't want those guys to shoot us. We didn't know who to call for
bail. We couldn't call our parents. We saw the police lights, and
those guys threw their guns in their truck.

The police took all our IDs and wrote down the information. Then
he started to question us. "What are you boys doing here? Do y'all
believe in ghosts? Are you robbers? Have you been drinking? Do
you have any girls here?"

We told him no to everything. Then he said, "This looks mighty
suspicious. Eight guys all alone out here in the dark." I turned to
my friend and said, "Hey, I think that cop just called us gay." But
I said it so he couldn't hear me. The cop asked the guys if they
wanted to press charges, but they said no. They were afraid we
would tell about their guns, I guess. The shotgun guy said, "No.
I have all their information if I change my mind."

Now I'm kind of scared, because there's a crazy guy with a shotgun
who knows my name and address and social security number.
And you know the worst part of it? We were at the wrong house.
That was not the haunted house. We walked around in some guy's
house taking pictures for an hour and a half.

***************************************************

I asked him why they didn't just admit that they were looking for ghosts,
and he said they thought they'd get in trouble. They had told the cop
they were on "public land" and he laughed and said, "Don't tell me that!"

He said he would check into the story the kids were telling about the
teacher ghosthunting. Maybe I will have more information to put with
that story tomorrow.

No Cheese For You!

Whatever you do, don't ever feed me cheese after 10:00 pm. No,
I don't turn into an evil gremlin like that Stripe character who spat
on precious little Gizmo while he was tooting his Christmas horn.
I have bizarre dreams. You may not be able to handle the dreams.
Read at your own risk.

It happened Monday night. I had some running around to do
after school. We had some unexpected visitors and phone calls.
Supper as we know it did not happen. I had stuffed the kids full
of Sonic while in town, so Hillbilly Husband and I made do with
what we could find. Part of my supper was some Oberle cheese.
Do y'all know what that is? It is a soft, garlicky long stick of cheese,
made in Ste. Genevieve, Missouri. I googled it to see if maybe
it might be found outside of this area, and gosh darn, wouldn't
you know it, the first thing to pop up was something from April
about Listeria in Oberle sausage. So maybe I did have some bad
cheese. You'll have to be the judge if you dare read about this
dream.

I made the mistake of not wanting my slices of Oberle cheese
with my hearts of romaine, shredded cheese, tomato, and
sunflower seed salad. It sat on my desk for a couple of hours.
OK, 3 1/2 hours. I thought it was fine. It's cheese, right? That
stuff is cured or already spoiled or something.

So around 10:10, I returned to the computer. Mmm...cheeeese.
I felt like Homer Simpson. I took a bite. It was kind of soft,
but tasted fine. About an hour later, I felt queasy. Maybe I
should have said no to the cheese.

I had the oddest dream. I haven't been remembering them lately.
What good fortune to remember this:

I was in a limo, going to some big awards show. It was like the
Emmys, or the Oscars. My parents were with me. I was the
guest of honor. So we get there, photographers all around, we
go up the steps, dressed to the nines. Up some more steps was
Lily Tomlin. She had her hair done up in an Audrey Hepburn kind
of twist. Or a Jennifer Love Hewitt playing Audrey Hepburn kind
of twist. She was in a long white evening gown. I couldn't see if she
was wearing comfortable shoes. Because that seemed important to
me, right after I saw a big banner proclaiming THE GAY AWARDS.

What? Why was I guest of honor? It seemed like they were
humoring me, like I was part of the Make-A-Wish Foundation.
Hey, people. I'm not sick! Oh, I had to get a thyroid ultrasound,
but I ain't kickin' it yet. And I don't recall this being my wish, either.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.

So they whisked me behind the scenes while TV cut to a commercial.
There I saw some chick that I don't watch on TV. Someone like
Mariska Hargitay, who last year wore some green dress to an
awards show, and whoever won asked her to come up on stage,
and there she stood like a giant 5th wheel in a green dress during the
thank-you speech. Not a 5th wheel camper. She's not that big. A
5th wheel like someone totally unnecessary. Like an extra actress
on stage while a winning actress gives a thank-you speech. Well,
this Mariska kind of chick was acting up with another chick, like
kissing with a gigantic open mouth. They thought it was hilarious to
do that while TV was on commercial. The other chick looked like
Britney Spears, only pretty, without her eyes too far on the sides
of her head. Some kind of blond in a ponytail.

That embarrassed me, so I went to another backstage area. Oh,
my! Was that ever a mistake! Here was another blond girl in a
fancy shmancy dress, and she saw me and my parents and pulled
up her dress to reveal, er, shall we say, a very manly part. And
very large. It looked like the fake one on Marky Mark in Boogie
Nights, if I had ever watched that movie, which maybe just maybe
I have, because hey, it has Burt Reynolds and Julianne Moore and
Don Cheadle and John C. Reilly. And my mom was cheering at
it! The manly part on the blond chick, not the movie Boogie Nights.

After that 'part,' my 5:00 am alarm woke me. I was still kind of
queasy, though if from the cheese or the dream I am not sure. I took
a shower, packed the boys' lunches, and took a short nap in the
recliner while HH took his shower. Well, it was intended to be
a short nap, but my Hillbilly Mama woke me with a call at 6:05,
which is my emergency plan and I ask her to do it every morning.
I did not ask her how she enjoyed my special award honor the
night before, as I was worried about my other dream from which
she had awakened me.

I was worried about my friend Brian. Except I don't have a friend
Brian. He looked like that guy Jason from the Sci-Fi show
Ghosthunters, but his name was clearly Brian. The only person
I can think of named Brian is from the blog An Audience of One.
They both look kind of similar, I guess. So this Brian was a teacher
AND a bus driver at my middle school, and he had been called in to
a meeting in the Superintendent's building. Because it was the first of
the month, and they had to let fired teachers know. Except that happens
in April, but anyhoo, Brian must have been fired and was ashamed
to tell anyone, because he was standing with me on bus duty while
I wondered, "Who's driving your bus?" I had also been called in,
and had gotten a glowing recommendation. By that I mean the
principal had told me, "Well, for some reason they want to keep you."
Okaaaaaay. I don't have to worry. I have tenure. And I haven't done
anything stupid like pretend I'm dying so I can be the guest of honor
at THE GAY AWARDS.

So I am not going to eat warm cheese after 10:00 pm anymore,
because this is just weirding me out. I will have to look it up in my
Dream Dictionary, which I keep at school for entertainment
purposes only. Hey, any book you can get a kid to read is a good
book.

This is about the weirdest dream I've had, after that one where I
stabbed a woman in the back 57 times and got on a schoolbus to
ride to a bar where I planned to sit and drink until they caught me.
But nobody ever caught me, so we had a good ol' party. And I
didn't even eat warm cheese for that one.

So, Alexandrialeigh, don't worry so much about your dream of
dating that hairy Robin Williams. It could have been worse. Or
maybe not, because now that I think of it, I would rather be the
guest of honor at THE GAY AWARDS as long as I wasn't dying
than be on a date with Robin Williams, because I was almost
physically ill when I saw his naked hairiness in the movie Moscow
on the Hudson with Maria Conchita Alonso, who now has some
kind of nervous twitch, most probably from being so near to a
naked hairy Robin Williams.

If you made it through this whole crazy post, congratulations to
you! Not many people have been commenting lately, so there,
take that! See what happens when you let me run wild? There's
nobody to restrain my craziness, and my two loyal readers must
put up with this nonsense. Sorry Mabel. Sorry Bean. If you had
your own blogs, maybe I could be stopped. Or not. Bwahahaha!

Ask Hillbilly Mom

Good gracious! The things my students come up with these days!

Yesterday, I knew I was in for a bumpy ride when one asked me:

Can you get a shot to make you give milk, like for a baby? I don't
want to, but my friend and I are having an argument. She doesn't
want to, either, but she says you can't.

I guess it's possible. You can get a shot to stop it. It's regulated
by a hormone. Prolactin, I think.

Can you drink alcohol at a football game? My friend says you
can, that at another school they were drinking it.

I don't think that sounds right. Drug-free schools and all that.
And if it could be done, you could bet the school would do
it at the concession stand to make money.

Can you smoke at a football game?

Same thing. Nicotine is a drug. They probably have a designated
smoking area.

She said they were sitting in the bleachers smoking. Not her,
but some other people.

Maybe they didn't get caught.

Have you ever been to the bathroom there?

Uh, no. Not since I went to school there many years ago. You
had to go inside then.

Well, they have them outside, and they don't have a main door,
they have plywood doors, and it's like in a shack. I went in, and
you could see my head when I sat on the toilet, so I just pretended
to go. Then I had to go all night, and I kept walking back, but I
couldn't go because of those plywood doors. Then I didn't want
my ex-boyfriend's parents to think I was drinking or something,
because I kept going back to the bathroom.

Hmmm...

My friend thought I shouldn't sit by them. She said I was stalking
him. I just thought it would be nice to sit by them. And do you
know, they list the player's weight in the program? That's none
of anybody's business. It's embarrassing.

They do that for football. And wrestling. Same as they list height
for basketball. They don't do it to embarrass them.

Well, my ex-boyfriend's said 275.

That's not that much for a football player. You want them to be
big. So they can knock people down and not get hurt.

Do you remember Blankety Blank?

He can't even take care of himself. If he falls over, he could die.
And his mom isn't even home with him. She's off running around.

I heard she's a lesbian. She's sleeping with some woman.

Unh uh. She's sleeping with Whack Whackety. That's where she's
running around to.

Hey, hey! Tra la la! Mmmmmmmm. Too much information! I
don't want to hear that!

Oh, okay. My friend got mad at me because I wouldn't go in
and pay for her gas. I told her, "No. I will go in and pay for my
own gas when I get my license." She made my little sister go in
and pay. Then she was mad and driving really crazy. But I didn't
tell her that, because then she would have been madder. I just
wanted to get home. It's one thing if she wants to kill me, but
she had my little sister in the car. That's just not right.

Maybe it's time to get another friend.

Intervention Audience

I watched this show last night on A & E called "Intervention." I have
seen parts of it before, but it's not something I plan my schedule
around. Here is my problem with this show. Who exactly is the target
audience? Are they looking for addicts who want to change? Family
who has an addict they want to change? Why would you watch
something that reminds you of your personal heartaches? And I
can't exactly picture addicts sitting around watching the show.

I know I joked about having an addiction to Sonic Cherry Diet Coke.
I don't consume drugs. I don't drink. But when I watch this show, I
watch it to see the people before they get help. To watch them take
drugs. And I don't think, "Oh, that's terrible! How can they do that?"
I think, "Man, I bet that's some good stuff. I bet they feel good right
now." Kind of sick, isn't it? Do you think this show makes some
people get high? Do you think it gives them that little push that they
might not have had if they were watching, oh, I don't know, perhaps
Everybody Loves Raymond?

There is nothing glamorous about the way it is depicted. In fact, the
subjects of the show think they are being filmed for a documentary.
This 24-year-old guy went to visit his dad and 4-year-old half-brother,
and after he left he held up a baggie of powdered Demerol. He said
he took the capsules out of the medicine cabinet and one-by-one
poured out 40 mg of Demerol, leaving 10 mg and replacing the rest
with salt. That is just wrong. But when he licked his finger and dipped
it in the baggie, I thought, "Ooh, that's gonna be goooood." I know.
I'm sick. I'm an addict. What's up with that? Think about people who
dabble in this stuff. Couldn't a show like this push them over the
edge? Assuming they watch it, if they're not already out getting high.

Oh, I teared up a little when the families told the addicts how much
they were loved, and how they were hurting everyone. But still, I was
thinking, "I wonder if he's gonna get high one last time before he
arrives at rehab."

It's not like this is a novelty for me. I have been around the getting
high scene. I went to college, for cryin' out loud! What is my
fascination? Do you think I have a problem? Do you think I need
an intervention? Am I the only person who watches that show to
see people get high?

I have had a stressful day. I am off to feed my other addiction:
Little Chocolate Donuts.

May I Help You Find Something?

Here are some 5-seconds-or-less visitors to my blog. I can't imagine
they would have stayed longer. I don't believe I have what they're
looking for. I might have some explainin' to do.

swimming in high heels - I do not recommend it. The water will run
out of your blue plastic Wal-mart pool.

lateral meniscus hurts after mowing lawn - Duh! Then don't mow
the lawn!

neo nazi haircut the boys will come a'runnin' - But you may not
want to meet these boys.

train made from 55 gallon barrels lawnmower - Pick a hobby and
stick with it, "Fitty." You can pull the train, you can stuff victims in
55 gallon barrels, or you can torture your meniscus with a lawnmower!
Don't spread yourself so thin.

middle school math sponge activities - I swear I had nothing to do
with this. It sounds so....WRONG!

dill molestation - Dill. Not just for pickles anymore.

hot hunky hung mature gay truck drivers - What have I been blogging
about? I did not know I reached this audience!

sinkhole repair hicksville - Gosh! Can you call people to come fix
your sinkholes out in Hicksville?

hillbilly party - YeeHaw! I'll whittle a few more corncob pipes, shove
a possum in the oven, and shovel out the outhouse. We'll have us a
hoedown!

4 wheelers for kids - It's my charity. Like Toys for Tots. 4-wheelers
for MY kids.

redneck party ideas - Cause the hillbilly party wasn't good enough
for 'em.

what hillbilly looks like - Oh, c'mon. We're not as elusive as Bigfoot!

what kid of clothes did puritans have - Uh, maybe you meant kind of
clothes? Are you planning a Puritan party?

hedgeapples to feed horses - I don't think hedgeapples are good for
horses.

redneck fashion - Don't get your hopes up. Apparently, we dress like
Puritans.

movie quotes all the way with a red hot poker - If you didn't like my
movie contest, you could have said so. No need to jab me with that
poker.

hillbilly kevin - Hey, he's my neighbor.

hot mom's hung son - No no no lalalalala mmmmmmm I can't hear you!

beaver diva - Is there something one of you is not telling me, DIVA?

hedgeapple fruit trash - What are you saying? Do they live in trailers?

lea thompson duct tape gag - Uh, Ms. Lea Thompson, actress, do you
have a bodyguard? Because you might want to check into that.


This is just from August and September. Who knows what the future
holds?