Around the Mansion
Do you know what I like, people? No! Not that! This is a PG
blog! My teaching buddy, Mabel, reads it at school (on her
own time!) and if I put not-PG stuff in here, Mabel would 'get
the schoolbus.' That's what the kids call it when the screen with
the big yellow schoolbus and the STOP sign pops up. That is a
clue that someone is trying to take a trip to Inappropriateville.
Shame, shame, everybody sees your schoolbus.
No, what I was going to say, is that I love it when I am returning
from town, and a little red sporty car follows me, attached to my
bumper. If my large SUV had an a$$, and that red sporty car
had a head, then it's head would be up my a$$. That is not very
nice. I almost felt bad when it followed me up the gravel road,
and I stirred up a HUGE cloud of dust! Little red sporty car
backed right off my a$$ then. Go figure!
I arrived home to find the Hillbilly Husband and the #1 son
preparing to shoot a pumpkin with a .22. Because they can.
(#1 had tried all week to shoot it with a Red Ryder 50th
Anniversary Edition BB gun, but the BBs bounced off. And
he didn't even shoot his eye out!) Well, of course they made a
lot of noise, and the .22 bullets went right through the pumpkin
into the mound of dirt over the septic tank. (The layer of .22
slugs is always deeper over the septic tank. Wasn't that a
book that Erma Bombeck wrote?) I hope they stopped in the
mound of dirt. You'd think that with his large collection of guns,
HH could find the appropriate caliber to take chunks out of
Mr. Pumpkin. He kind of chooses his weapons unwisely, like
the banned AK47 assault rifle that he and his buddy shot off
on New Years' Eve several years ago.
Not much else going on here. HH is going to fire up the grill
for supper, since the temp is back in the 60s. It's a special
request from #2 son, who asked for a banana and a hot dog
for breakfast. "And I don't mean a hot dog in the microwave
or in a pan of water! I want a barbecued hot dog!" He was
talked into a banana and some cereal, but still insisted on a
hot dog later in the day. What's the matter with that kid? It
was all I could do not to scream, "Shut up and eat your
Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie!" That's what he usually wants
for breakfast. That's a food group, isn't it? Little Debbie?
blog! My teaching buddy, Mabel, reads it at school (on her
own time!) and if I put not-PG stuff in here, Mabel would 'get
the schoolbus.' That's what the kids call it when the screen with
the big yellow schoolbus and the STOP sign pops up. That is a
clue that someone is trying to take a trip to Inappropriateville.
Shame, shame, everybody sees your schoolbus.
No, what I was going to say, is that I love it when I am returning
from town, and a little red sporty car follows me, attached to my
bumper. If my large SUV had an a$$, and that red sporty car
had a head, then it's head would be up my a$$. That is not very
nice. I almost felt bad when it followed me up the gravel road,
and I stirred up a HUGE cloud of dust! Little red sporty car
backed right off my a$$ then. Go figure!
I arrived home to find the Hillbilly Husband and the #1 son
preparing to shoot a pumpkin with a .22. Because they can.
(#1 had tried all week to shoot it with a Red Ryder 50th
Anniversary Edition BB gun, but the BBs bounced off. And
he didn't even shoot his eye out!) Well, of course they made a
lot of noise, and the .22 bullets went right through the pumpkin
into the mound of dirt over the septic tank. (The layer of .22
slugs is always deeper over the septic tank. Wasn't that a
book that Erma Bombeck wrote?) I hope they stopped in the
mound of dirt. You'd think that with his large collection of guns,
HH could find the appropriate caliber to take chunks out of
Mr. Pumpkin. He kind of chooses his weapons unwisely, like
the banned AK47 assault rifle that he and his buddy shot off
on New Years' Eve several years ago.
Not much else going on here. HH is going to fire up the grill
for supper, since the temp is back in the 60s. It's a special
request from #2 son, who asked for a banana and a hot dog
for breakfast. "And I don't mean a hot dog in the microwave
or in a pan of water! I want a barbecued hot dog!" He was
talked into a banana and some cereal, but still insisted on a
hot dog later in the day. What's the matter with that kid? It
was all I could do not to scream, "Shut up and eat your
Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie!" That's what he usually wants
for breakfast. That's a food group, isn't it? Little Debbie?
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 2:37 PM
3 Comments:
Little Debbie, Sarah Lee, Mrs. Smith and Uncle Ben...the four food groups, yeah.
Mr. Diva doesn't shoot pumpkins with AK47s - he just shoots deer with them. I, personally, think it's just very very wrong to shoot wildlife with a semi-automatic assault rifle, but he doesn't agree with me on this one.
The first year we moved here, he stood on our front porch in his underwear and shot deer in the small field.
Let no one say that we are not redneck.
Jules,
My son would argue that there is a 5th food group--Mrs. Paul.
Lessa,
As long as a person eats SOMETHING for breakfast...
My Hillbilly Mama used to cook my sister-the-future-mayor's-wife a hamburger for breakfast.
Diva,
My HH loves to wander around the porch in his tighty-whities.
And I don't recall ANYONE ever doubting that y'all are rednecks!
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