The Tongues of Hillbilly Mom
Ola! I am feeling bilingual today. But that's about all I know.
Maybe a few others, like agua, or caliente, or amigo, since some
of my students take Spanish, and the teacher is right next door to
me and is from Spain, and I can hear her through the wall. Maybe
I am quadrilingual, because I know a smidgen of French and shhh...
Japanese. Oh, there are a few scattered words here and there, like
merde and konichiwa and bon jour and chapeau. OK, so the last
two came from watching Madeline ("We love our bread, we love
our butter...but most of all, we love each other." Thank you,
thank you. I have not recited much since that "We, the people, in
order to form a more perfect union, provide for the common
defense...yada, yada, yada" stuff in 9th grade.) But I don't want to
show off.
I am still in the Blog of the Week contest at A Mischief of Magpies.
Last time I checked (two seconds ago) I was in the lead. Toot, toot...
yeahhhh...beep beep! I am not tooting my own horn tonight. I am
actually listening to Donna Summer. I would give you a listen if I
could, but I am just an ignorant hillbilly. I do, however, know that
baloney does not make you horny...unlike my sistah hillbilly, the
esteemed Miss Loretta Lynn, as illustrated in Coal Miner's Daughter.
So now I have everybody wanting to go watch Tommy Lee Jones
and Sissy Spacek with bad dye jobs instead of going here to vote
for me. Thank you to those who have already voted. You ROCK!
Yes, I have been out and about tonight. I snuck by JustLinda's place,
and apparently she's been gone for the weekend. She doesn't know
how close she came to being bushwhacked (begged not to declare
war) by Hillmomba. Shh...don't anybody tell.
I forgot to tell you how I became fluent in the Japanese language.
To be exact, how I know one word of it. When I was in high school,
a friend of a friend hosted a Japanese exchange student. She was
a calm, quiet kind of gal. The FOAF taught her how to drink and
swear. She went on our senior trip to Daytona Beach. She stayed
in our room. I learned an important fact about the Japanese culture.
They do not understand the mechanics of a shower curtain. Someone
had to show her how to work the shower. After she came out, the
next person discovered a floor covered with all of our towels, wet to
the bone. If towels had bones, which they don't, because then they
couldn't wrap around your hair like a turban, and they would crunch
when you sawed them back and forth on your back, and they would
fall off when you tried to wrap them around you and people would
see your dirtypillows (thanks so much Stephen King, for leaving me
with that visual image after reading Carrie), and you would never
be able to find a towel when you needed one because the dogs
would have buried them all...not the little yippy dogs like Yorkies,
but the big ol' Great Dane kind of dogs, and their cousins from the
wrong side of the tracks, the Pit Bulls. Sigh. I had to take a breath.
Getting back to our shower...Little Miss Yoshimura did not know
that a shower curtain is supposed to stay INSIDE the tub. She
carefully put it out. I guess she didn't want it to get wet, ha ha!
It's a wonder Hillmomba has not started a war with all non-hillbilly-
speaking blogs. Who KNOWS how many people I have offended,
just because they don't get the lingo. When I say, "That'll learn
ya!" it doesn't really mean that I speak that way. I am a teacher, for
cryin' out loud, not a toothless granny who tells fortunes by rolling
bones (sorry, Hillbilly Icon Dolly Parton, for stealing that character
from your song "These Old Bones.") And I'm not really weeping
at a high decibel level when I say that. Just like "nervous as a
long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers" or "first cat out
of the bag" does not mean that we hillbillies abuse felines.
There are also time lines that must be considered. Back in the day,
it was OK to be gay, wear your thongs to the picnic, finger the
fabric before you bought it, toot at your neighbor, lick somebody
to teach him a lesson, collect fairies, laugh at someone's crack,
snowball the kid next door, and eat a weiner or two. Maybe even
do them all in one day. But these words have taken on a different
meaning today.
My 10th graders went into the Beavis and Butthead "heh heh" laugh
when I read from Tom Saywer. Becky Thatcher wanted Tom to
come to her picnic (after she'd made him mad by NOT inviting him).
"Oh, won't you come, Tom? It'll be ever so gay!" The 9th graders
love to ask Mr. S what's for lunch on hot dog day, because they
can make him say "Weiners." Nobody wants anything that's been
fingered, and it must be against the law to collect fairies, because
they are living, breathing homosexuals. If you laugh at someone's
crack, you sure ain't gettin' a share of it, your neighbor will flip you
the bird (he's not really throwing you an avian critter) if you fart at
him, and we won't even GO THERE for the snowballing thingie.
Gosh. I got a little carried away. That's what happens when I sit
down to post without a topic in mind.
Maybe a few others, like agua, or caliente, or amigo, since some
of my students take Spanish, and the teacher is right next door to
me and is from Spain, and I can hear her through the wall. Maybe
I am quadrilingual, because I know a smidgen of French and shhh...
Japanese. Oh, there are a few scattered words here and there, like
merde and konichiwa and bon jour and chapeau. OK, so the last
two came from watching Madeline ("We love our bread, we love
our butter...but most of all, we love each other." Thank you,
thank you. I have not recited much since that "We, the people, in
order to form a more perfect union, provide for the common
defense...yada, yada, yada" stuff in 9th grade.) But I don't want to
show off.
I am still in the Blog of the Week contest at A Mischief of Magpies.
Last time I checked (two seconds ago) I was in the lead. Toot, toot...
yeahhhh...beep beep! I am not tooting my own horn tonight. I am
actually listening to Donna Summer. I would give you a listen if I
could, but I am just an ignorant hillbilly. I do, however, know that
baloney does not make you horny...unlike my sistah hillbilly, the
esteemed Miss Loretta Lynn, as illustrated in Coal Miner's Daughter.
So now I have everybody wanting to go watch Tommy Lee Jones
and Sissy Spacek with bad dye jobs instead of going here to vote
for me. Thank you to those who have already voted. You ROCK!
Yes, I have been out and about tonight. I snuck by JustLinda's place,
and apparently she's been gone for the weekend. She doesn't know
how close she came to being bushwhacked (begged not to declare
war) by Hillmomba. Shh...don't anybody tell.
I forgot to tell you how I became fluent in the Japanese language.
To be exact, how I know one word of it. When I was in high school,
a friend of a friend hosted a Japanese exchange student. She was
a calm, quiet kind of gal. The FOAF taught her how to drink and
swear. She went on our senior trip to Daytona Beach. She stayed
in our room. I learned an important fact about the Japanese culture.
They do not understand the mechanics of a shower curtain. Someone
had to show her how to work the shower. After she came out, the
next person discovered a floor covered with all of our towels, wet to
the bone. If towels had bones, which they don't, because then they
couldn't wrap around your hair like a turban, and they would crunch
when you sawed them back and forth on your back, and they would
fall off when you tried to wrap them around you and people would
see your dirtypillows (thanks so much Stephen King, for leaving me
with that visual image after reading Carrie), and you would never
be able to find a towel when you needed one because the dogs
would have buried them all...not the little yippy dogs like Yorkies,
but the big ol' Great Dane kind of dogs, and their cousins from the
wrong side of the tracks, the Pit Bulls. Sigh. I had to take a breath.
Getting back to our shower...Little Miss Yoshimura did not know
that a shower curtain is supposed to stay INSIDE the tub. She
carefully put it out. I guess she didn't want it to get wet, ha ha!
It's a wonder Hillmomba has not started a war with all non-hillbilly-
speaking blogs. Who KNOWS how many people I have offended,
just because they don't get the lingo. When I say, "That'll learn
ya!" it doesn't really mean that I speak that way. I am a teacher, for
cryin' out loud, not a toothless granny who tells fortunes by rolling
bones (sorry, Hillbilly Icon Dolly Parton, for stealing that character
from your song "These Old Bones.") And I'm not really weeping
at a high decibel level when I say that. Just like "nervous as a
long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers" or "first cat out
of the bag" does not mean that we hillbillies abuse felines.
There are also time lines that must be considered. Back in the day,
it was OK to be gay, wear your thongs to the picnic, finger the
fabric before you bought it, toot at your neighbor, lick somebody
to teach him a lesson, collect fairies, laugh at someone's crack,
snowball the kid next door, and eat a weiner or two. Maybe even
do them all in one day. But these words have taken on a different
meaning today.
My 10th graders went into the Beavis and Butthead "heh heh" laugh
when I read from Tom Saywer. Becky Thatcher wanted Tom to
come to her picnic (after she'd made him mad by NOT inviting him).
"Oh, won't you come, Tom? It'll be ever so gay!" The 9th graders
love to ask Mr. S what's for lunch on hot dog day, because they
can make him say "Weiners." Nobody wants anything that's been
fingered, and it must be against the law to collect fairies, because
they are living, breathing homosexuals. If you laugh at someone's
crack, you sure ain't gettin' a share of it, your neighbor will flip you
the bird (he's not really throwing you an avian critter) if you fart at
him, and we won't even GO THERE for the snowballing thingie.
Gosh. I got a little carried away. That's what happens when I sit
down to post without a topic in mind.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 6:10 PM
9 Comments:
This post made me chuckle. Quite a bit actually.
We hosted a Belgian foreign exchange student my Junior year and the only thing I learned about the Belgian people is that they are dirty, mean and they lie a lot. Or at least that one did. And while she didn't have shower curtain issues, she did go an entire 9 months without allowing my mother to wash her stinky-a$$ tennis shoes. GAG!
I have tried to re-vote for you, but it won't let me. Just know I tried!
"The Tongues of Hillbilly Mom"
Gee, for a brief moment, I thought it was the title of a pron film. :-)
If towels had bones, which they don't ...
It was Wally from the Dilbert Strip which opined that why did he need to wash his towels, as they only used to dry clean things...
57% of the BOTW votes - woohoo!
ヒルビーリの おかさんは とても きれいいですね。 日本語を 話します。
(Translation: Hillbilly Mom is SOOO PRETTY. She speaks Japanese, too!)
The only foreign words I've learned are the ones from VBS. And we all know those aren't dirty, so I can't remember them!
Your post made me think of that Tim McGraw song...
"Back when a hoe was a hoe, coke was a coke. Crack was what you were doing when you were crackin' jokes. Back when a screw was a screw, the wind was all that blew..."
I LOVE that song.
I mentioned the word "thong" to a 21-year old a few months ago and she thought I was talking about underwear. She had never heard of thongs as in what is now known as flip-flops.
I felt old.
http://www.danno.org/blogs
"I have tried to re-vote for you, but it won't let me. Just know I tried!"
We think of everything at the mischief..........
I like Belgium as a country. Wonderful beer. The people are ok, much like anywhere else....
Diva,
But could she make a mean waffle?
Thanks so much for trying to cheat on my behalf. In Hillmomba, it's all about ME, and doing whatever it takes to make ME happy.
Lantern,
Hold on! Have you been visiting Mr. Huggies? I might be able to compete with a Cheese Sandwich and a Sheep On A Unicycle now that everybody knows I'm OH SO PRETTY!
Mr. Bates,
Thank you for reminding people that I am SOOO PRETTY! Redneck Diva has been slacking in that department, what with setting up DoNotDay for Hillmomba.
Mrs.,
What kind of multilingual Vacation Bible School do you attend, anyway?
Chick,
I'll have to listen for that song. My boy young 'un has probably heard it. And we need to tell the world, they are THONGS, not flip-flops. That is too hard to say. As in "My feet got my thongs all sandy, so I washed them with the hose."
Ill Man,
What are you, some kind of criminologist who knows the hillbilly mind? Can we not even outsmart the internets? Now we will all have to run out and teach Grandpa-Dad how to click a mouse.
I've actually sent my children to Mrs. Coach's multi-lingual VBS. Twice, I believe. I can't remember any of those Jesus words, but if I thought real hard I could probably remember how to call someone a b1Tch in Dutch.
And no, she couldn't make a mean waffle, but everything else she did was mean. She was very quick to point out her first day here that those "things" we called Belgian waffles weren't Belgian at all. She was such a snot.
Diva,
Well, then. OFF WITH HER HEAD! How dare she put on airs when her feet stank! My kids go to my Hillbilly Mama's Methodist VBS, and the only language they picked up was bouncing in a big moon bouncy thingy.
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