Suckers, Soap, and Strippers
Don't go getting all excited. It's not going to be as good as the title.
Oops! I almost forgot this week's theme...Toot, toot...yeahhh...
beep, beep! Tonight, that's the warning sound when I back up my
large SUV. Run for your lives! My #1 son loves to point out signs
on the wall of our pharmacy, which show a large SUV backing
into a pole, and the pole snapping in half and falling on the SUV.
Funny thing is, they need a different warning sign, because they'd
only been open about a month when a car drove right through the
front wall. I wonder if the manager bought a round of tranquilizers
for everyone. Oh, and this one time...at the Office Max...I did
back into a pole. But it didn't snap.
Getting back to this week's theme: have I mentioned that I'm in the
Blog of the Week contest at A Mischief of Magpies? And that you
can vote for me here? Oh, I did? Never mind. I seem to be doing
OK at the moment. Until the last-minute voters out-vote me, like
the last-minute bidders on eBay. That's an idea for the future: my
life as an eBay auction. Since I've already done the sitcom and all.
Now, to satisfy the truth-in-titling requirement of the blogging code,
I must get on with this sucker.
I might have mentioned that my children are a bit...how you say...
ODD. My #1 son asked me to buy him a sucker. Oh, not for him,
but to take to school. It seems his class has a little aquarium, and
a beta named "Rex." Well, they used to. Over the 3-day weekend,
Rex jumped out of the aquarium, and on Tuesday morning, the
teacher found him on the floor, in a little puddle of water, deader
than a doornail. I should have known this was a bad omen, this
teacher trying to have a classroom pet. His pet history is a bit
suspect. They are going to try again with a new beta. #1 wanted
a sucker, one of those big-mouthed thingies that cling to the side
of the aquarium and clean it. He also wanted two ghost shrimp.
I paid for them, but I've yet to see them in that giant bag of water
I bought. They're ghosts, you know.
And what did my precious #2 son want from Wal*mart, THE
place to go for suckers and ghost shrimp? He asked for some
soap. I know, not the kind of thing you'd expect a hillbilly
young 'un to ask for. It's the liquid soap in the squirt bottle. We
DO have soap at the mansion. #2 said he wanted it because the
one in the bathroom was almost out, and if we didn't get a new
one, Dad would refill the old one, and he couldn't fill it with water
and squirt it in the bathtub. Always planning ahead, that boy.
Which brings us to the strippers. We don't have THEM at the
Hillbilly Mansion, and they are not pets at school. I was reminded
of a story by Mr. Bates, who had a stripper tale today.
Years ago, when my Hillbilly Husband was just my Hillbilly Friend,
he took one of our friends from our apartment complex to some
strip clubs. When they really wanted to live it up, they went to
East St. Louis. When they were just slumming, they went to a
place on Highway 67 called "Footloose." Let's just say that at
Footloose, they made sure to drink the beer out of a can, not
wanting to touch the glasses. It was a skanky sort of place.
Some teachers at the school where I was working decided to go
out for a wild evening of stripping. They were not regulars to the
scene, and probably had never been to such a place before.
They walked into Footloose, sat in the back, and decided that
they, too, did not want to touch anything in that place. Then the
first girl came out, and SHE WAS A SENIOR AT OUR
SCHOOL. They stayed very quiet, hoping she wouldn't notice
them. When she turned her back, they ran for the door. They
were afraid to see her in the hall the rest of the year.
Let's review today's lesson. Beta fish can become depressed
when left alone for a 3-day weekend. Hillbilly boys regard
soap as a toy. Schools today are preparing their students for
gainful employment in the real world. You may have a quiz on
this at the end of the quarter. Then again, I may have class
outside when we get some good weather. I can't decide.
I guess it's just the duality of my nature.
Oops! I almost forgot this week's theme...Toot, toot...yeahhh...
beep, beep! Tonight, that's the warning sound when I back up my
large SUV. Run for your lives! My #1 son loves to point out signs
on the wall of our pharmacy, which show a large SUV backing
into a pole, and the pole snapping in half and falling on the SUV.
Funny thing is, they need a different warning sign, because they'd
only been open about a month when a car drove right through the
front wall. I wonder if the manager bought a round of tranquilizers
for everyone. Oh, and this one time...at the Office Max...I did
back into a pole. But it didn't snap.
Getting back to this week's theme: have I mentioned that I'm in the
Blog of the Week contest at A Mischief of Magpies? And that you
can vote for me here? Oh, I did? Never mind. I seem to be doing
OK at the moment. Until the last-minute voters out-vote me, like
the last-minute bidders on eBay. That's an idea for the future: my
life as an eBay auction. Since I've already done the sitcom and all.
Now, to satisfy the truth-in-titling requirement of the blogging code,
I must get on with this sucker.
I might have mentioned that my children are a bit...how you say...
ODD. My #1 son asked me to buy him a sucker. Oh, not for him,
but to take to school. It seems his class has a little aquarium, and
a beta named "Rex." Well, they used to. Over the 3-day weekend,
Rex jumped out of the aquarium, and on Tuesday morning, the
teacher found him on the floor, in a little puddle of water, deader
than a doornail. I should have known this was a bad omen, this
teacher trying to have a classroom pet. His pet history is a bit
suspect. They are going to try again with a new beta. #1 wanted
a sucker, one of those big-mouthed thingies that cling to the side
of the aquarium and clean it. He also wanted two ghost shrimp.
I paid for them, but I've yet to see them in that giant bag of water
I bought. They're ghosts, you know.
And what did my precious #2 son want from Wal*mart, THE
place to go for suckers and ghost shrimp? He asked for some
soap. I know, not the kind of thing you'd expect a hillbilly
young 'un to ask for. It's the liquid soap in the squirt bottle. We
DO have soap at the mansion. #2 said he wanted it because the
one in the bathroom was almost out, and if we didn't get a new
one, Dad would refill the old one, and he couldn't fill it with water
and squirt it in the bathtub. Always planning ahead, that boy.
Which brings us to the strippers. We don't have THEM at the
Hillbilly Mansion, and they are not pets at school. I was reminded
of a story by Mr. Bates, who had a stripper tale today.
Years ago, when my Hillbilly Husband was just my Hillbilly Friend,
he took one of our friends from our apartment complex to some
strip clubs. When they really wanted to live it up, they went to
East St. Louis. When they were just slumming, they went to a
place on Highway 67 called "Footloose." Let's just say that at
Footloose, they made sure to drink the beer out of a can, not
wanting to touch the glasses. It was a skanky sort of place.
Some teachers at the school where I was working decided to go
out for a wild evening of stripping. They were not regulars to the
scene, and probably had never been to such a place before.
They walked into Footloose, sat in the back, and decided that
they, too, did not want to touch anything in that place. Then the
first girl came out, and SHE WAS A SENIOR AT OUR
SCHOOL. They stayed very quiet, hoping she wouldn't notice
them. When she turned her back, they ran for the door. They
were afraid to see her in the hall the rest of the year.
Let's review today's lesson. Beta fish can become depressed
when left alone for a 3-day weekend. Hillbilly boys regard
soap as a toy. Schools today are preparing their students for
gainful employment in the real world. You may have a quiz on
this at the end of the quarter. Then again, I may have class
outside when we get some good weather. I can't decide.
I guess it's just the duality of my nature.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 6:08 PM
7 Comments:
Let's just say that at Footloose, they made sure to drink the beer out of a can, not wanting to touch the glasses. It was a skanky sort of place..
Reminds me of the last "gentlemen's club" I was dragged along to. It was in Denver Colorado. One guys afterwards asked me why I kept scanning the audience. It was that sort of place.
As I say to the young turks at work, been to one sleazy dive, you're been to 'em all.
Word verification: iojjail.
(seems topical)
Hi Hillbilly Mom,
Are you sure the fish wasn't just trying to get the strip club too?
Maybe No.2 Son actually wanted the soap, so he could clean up the town?
Have you thought that backing into a pole with your SVU, is really just a form of pole dancing for Rev Heads?
5,000 word minimum essay on these subjects. I expect them on my desk by Thursday.
HooRoo
Rebecca
Heck, I just thought HH was pretending to be on a business trip down here, instead opting to come for the strippers. But apparently you have your own ready supply! But it's good to know that the girls in school can make an extra buck doing something constructive. When I was a kid, we had to sell "Grit". (Actually, I never did, but the ads in the comics said I could make some dough by doing just that!)
Lantern,
I hope you at least had some Coors Light while you were in the Mile-High City. It's made from Rocky Mountain Springwater, you know. Not that I'm doing a commercial for Coors or anything. Back in the day, you couldn't get it in my neck of the woods unless it was smuggled in somebody's car trunk. It had to be kept refrigerated, or it would get skunky. It's not exactly like they were bringing it by wagon train. I thought they would have had refrigerated trucks back then.
My psychic abilities enable me to influence the word verification to make it topical.
Bec,
You have quite a talent for making unrelated things seem connected. Perhaps you should start a blog. Oh. You already did. Well then...perhaps you could write essays for DoNots. You can start with mine. I'll let you do it if you give me an apple core, a kitten with one eye, a dead rat and a string to swing it with, and a tick in a percussion-cap box.
Mr.,
My Hillbilly Mama used to buy The Grit. She didn't read it, but I did. That was back when we lived in a trailer, before we built our first mansion.
I worked at Petsmart for awhile and we sold those beta fish in cups by the front door. Some mornings I would come in to work and find 2-3 dead fish on the floor. There were even a few times when 1 fish would jump out of his cup into another cup and the 2 fish would fight and they would both end up dead.
And back by the aquarium, if the lids weren't on the aquariums, the fish would jump out...you had to be careful or you'd slip on a goldfish. Nasty.
http://www.danno.org/blogs
Abby got a cat one year for Christmas Eve. A few days later we got up in the morning to find the beta bowl/vase thingy smashed, plant half-chewed, and beta lying gasping in a pool of water still alive. Talk about a hardy fish. I just couldn't believe we didn't hear the vase break.
Chick,
Who knew? Are betas related to flying fish? I guess they were making a break for it, what with being in solitary their whole lives. Freedom is just another word for nothin' left to lose, according to Janis Joplin. Her and Bobby McGee.
Diva,
Survival of the fittest. You should have spawned off him and started your own fighting-fish line. And I have a use for that cat: see my Sunday post.
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