Be Careful What You Brag About

First rule of Blog Club: Don't talk about Blog Club. Second rule
of Blog Club: Be careful what you brag about. Yes, I am learning
to follow the rules. Seems like only yesterday, I was a-braggin'
about my date with a lesbian. Well, have I got a story for you to
ring in the New Year!

This morning (and by that I mean 12:05 this afternoon) I finally
got rolling, and went to town for some black-eyed peas and the
daily Sonic Cherry Diet Coke. I wasn't running late because I
had too much cheer last night. I don't drink. But we were up late
shooting off a .38 pistol and a 9 mm pistol to see the fire shoot
out the end, because my Hillbilly Husband had squandered the
fireworks he had been saving for 6 months to ring in the New
Year. HH has mellowed. In his younger days, he shot off an
SK47 or a Chinese assault rifle, or they're one and the same,
'cause I don't know squat about guns.

Anyhoo, anybody who can claim to be a hillbilly knows that
you have to eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day to have
good luck throughout the year. I thought about eating them
right out of the can, like a hobo, but I guess I will cook them
with some bacon, as a side dish for some baked chicken and
broccoli with cheese, and biscuits. I know, I am exceeding the
hillbilly limit of one vegetable per meal, but I figure the added
fat of the bacon will cancel out any health benefits that may
have been gained.

Anyhoo, I stopped at the Save-A-Lot for my black-eyed peas.
And because I am Hillbilly Mom, a trip to town can not be that
simple. I also picked up some cabbage, bananas, milk, refried
beans, little chocolate donuts, bacon, polish sausage, cereal,
and beef stroganoff fake hamburger helper. As you can see, we
are quite multicultural here at the mansion.

Wake up now, here comes the Hillbilly Mom moment! I turned
down the cereal aisle, and a woman came up behind me.

"You are SO pretty!" She followed me.

"Thank you," I said, because my mamma brought me up right. She
came down the aisle next to me. She was faster than I was, since
she wasn't pushing a cart. I was trying to escape.

"You are SO good-looking! Do you have a boyfriend, or husband,
or someone?"

"Yes, I have a husband and two little boys."

"You should wear your wedding ring, then! Someone is going to
snatch you up! You are SO pretty! How old are you? About my
age, I bet!"

I didn't want to turn and look at her again. That might encourage
her. I had scoped her out in the beginning, because I thought it
might be someone that knew me from school, joking around.
But no. She was about my height, maybe in her thirties, well-kept,
not unattractive, looked to be mixed-race, very outgoing.

"Oh...I'm verrry old."

"Haha. No you're not. Somebody would be lucky to get you.
My brother would like you."

Ahh...she wasn't trying to pick me up! She was procuring for
her brother!

"Hmm...what kind of cereal was I supposed to get?"

"You are SO pretty!"

The Moral Majority representatives ahead of me had already
turned to stare, and then turned away. They must have dropped
by on their way home from church. Both man and woman were
wearing jeans and flannel shirts, buy hey, that's acceptable for
church around these parts. They had frowned at me, like I was
doing something wrong. Hey! Don't hate me because I'm SO
good-looking, people! My hopes that the woman was with them
were dashed when they turned away and scurried ahead to the
cheese/eggs/margarine cooler.

I rounded the end of the aisle and saw a worker in her red
Save-A-Lot polo shirt. She was the one who always speaks
to me, and true to form, said, "Hi." I spoke back, and my
secret admirer dropped me like a hot potato. She must have
thought she couldn't compete with a woman in uniform.

I quickly grabbed the rest of my items, and headed to the check-
out. My admirer had honed in on my beauty beacon, and appeared
behind me. I made small talk with the 110-year-old checker, and
ignored my stalker. IT WORKED. I boxed up my stuff and hustled
out to the large SUV and took off for Sonic. What an odd way to
start the new year.

Why did I find this unsettling? This woman did not seem to be in
possession of all her faculties. Let me rephrase that, in my Hillbilly
Mom "Liason-for-Politically-Incorrect-People-Everywhere" way:

She wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
She only picked up 51 cards in the game of 52-card pick-up.
Her porch light was on, but nobody was home upstairs.
She had one wheel in the sand.
She was one brick shy of a load.
She was half a bubble off on a six-inch level.
Her method of transportation was the short bus.
She stood in the wrong line when brains were handed out.
Her mental equivalent was a box of rocks.

There is no group home in that area. Where did she come
from? I kept hoping she was there with sombody in the store.
But she checked out on her own. Did she drive there? Did
someone send her in to get something? She bought a frozen
apple pie. I hope somebody was taking care of her. Aside
from the obvious clues, there are other reasons I could tell
something was off:

I am so not SO pretty! My lady-mullet, L'Oreal dark brown
hair was showing its true white color at the roots, and had been
styled by the wind into an oh-so-unflattering clump of Medusa
tendrils.

I was wearing my favorite New Balance shoes with the piece
of sole that flaps loose with each step.

I wear no make-up, the better to show off my old-lady age
spots and dark circles under the bags under my eyes.

I have a bruise on my arm from giving a blood sample at the
hospital-that-lets-people-wake-up-during-surgery Friday.
A bruise that would make a heroin addict proud.

My pants had horizontal dirt lines from brushing against the
running board of the large SUV while getting in and out.

I am extra-fluffy from too much holiday cheer such as Chex Mix
and stocking candy.

I am baffled. I used to think that everything happens for a reason.
What was this reason?