Hillbilly Mom Has a Mad Day
Hillbilly Mom is angry tonight, my friends. Angry, like a teacher
who discovers at 2:56 p.m. that his truck (which he assumed was
safely ensconced on the school parking lot) has been prankishly
filled with newspapers.
It is a combination of things making me angry. I will try to shorten
the list to just the major reasons that PEOPLE PISS ME OFF!
1. I am fed up with shopping for food. Let my household forage
for themselves. Nothing has been going right. My junk food
junkies needed a fix of gourmet chocolate chip cookies found
only at the Save-A-Lot every now and then. We stopped there
yesterday, which I didn't mind, because Save-A-Lot makes me
feel OH SO PRETTY. Except they were out of chocolate chip,
so I bought oatmeal raisin. This caused an accusatory bellow
of "Why should YOU have cookies when WE don't?" Jeez!
You'd think I robbed their Easter baskets like their dad does.
Because these kids won't eat oatmeal cookies. So of course I
bought them for me, to taunt them with.
When I was in line, with the checker who is older than Methusela's
great-great-grandpappy, the previous customer came back to
whine, and take up MY one-on-one time with the crypt-keeper.
It was an older lady (older than me, heh heh) who looked like
Miss Jane Hathaway from the Beverly Hillbillies. Not the Lily
Tomlin Miss Jane from the movie with Jim Varney. The Nancy
Kulp Miss Jane from the black-and-white reruns. "Can't you
give me a better five than this? It's all ragggggggged." She was
a slow-talker and a man-talker. And she got a new five. Hey!
Miss Jane! It's currency. You have it now, and when you buy
something, you give it away. You don't need mint money to
hang on your wall. Get over it!
Tonight I tried to eat a Wal*Mart big salad for supper. It was
the chef salad, not the chicken caesar salad that I prefer. This
thing was so bad that Elaine would have told George to go get
a refund. The lettuce was watery. It was limp. I could squeeze
water out of it like a pale green minisponge. It was limp, I tell
you. Limp, like a black hairwad from a free hot tub. Eeewww!
2. My Hillbilly Husband's buddy, Buddy, is a borrower. Forget
the picnic table he had for 3 years, the 'gallon' of gas that his son
asked for repeatedly to power his 4-wheeler, the bottle of BBQ
sauce...Monday evening, he showed up at 6:00 p.m. and asked
to borrow my computer. WTF!!! I said, "No." He had already
pushed past me into the mansion. He stopped and stared at me.
"No?" Like he couldn't believe it.
I told him my #1 son might let him on. That boy bought his own
computer, and does not like to loan it. Well, he did. I think he
was in shock. We were actually in the middle of him trying to
e-mail me a prank letter for his teacher, so I could use my
printer to make it more colorful. We were rushing to get done
by 7:00 to see David Blaine pretend to do magic.
Buddy said he just needed 10 minutes to check his e-mail.
Right. He was here 30 freakin' minutes, and was on Match.com.
I don't know what this is. Is it a shopping thingy like an internet
PriceCutter or something? At first, I thought he was on some
dating site, by listening to my son describe it. Anyhoo, Buddy
said AOL kicked him off for spam, but that it was really a
virus. None of this made any sense to me. But I wanted my
internet, and I wanted my life.
I hate visitors. Especially unannounced, time-sucking visitors
on a school night. The ones who've never done anything for
me, but expect me grant their every desire. And like it!
3. My HH himself is on the naughty list. How many times do I
have to tell this man to stay out of my freakin' stuff? I do not
want him using my pink razor tailored for a woman's sensitive
skin to shave his scruffy freakin' beard or elsewhere! Eeewww!
Yet there it is, full of man-hairs, dull as HH himself. AND, this
morning I took the lid off my Lady Speed Stick Sunset Breeze
antiperspirant and found!!!HH's ARMPIT HAIR!!! Make the
images stop! I threw it away. I can't stand that sh*t! Oh, and
I wouldn't be surprised if he has used my toothbrush on occasion.
He has no sense of personal belongings. His excuse is, "Well,
you're married to me. It's all ours, not yours." EEEEEEEE!
Get this...he leaves his toothbrush in the shower. On one of
those seat thingies that are built into two corners of our huge
shower. Doesn't he know that water hits body parts and then
splashes onto his toothbrush, and he then puts it in his mouth?
Eeewww! That toothbrush ain't ours, honey--it's yours!
4. My #1 son is on my last nerve. Monday night, since we got
delayed with his little prank project, I asked him to run up to
his room and tape David Blaine for me. I labeled a brand-
spankin' new tape 'David Blaine'. I reminded him to start it
a couple minutes early, and end it a couple minutes late, so
I didn't miss anything. He came back down. "It's taping, Mom."
I quizzed him on whether he actually saw the counter moving.
He assured me all was well. I didn't watch the news Tuesday
morning. I didn't want the David Blaine ending spoiled for me.
I told my students at school that I taped it, and I would show
it to them when all work was caught up. This morning, I took
the tape to school. As I was readying my room for the day,
I popped it in to make sure it was at the beginning. Did I see
my David Blaine? H*LL NO! I had 6 freakin' hours of
freakin' Cartoon Network! EEEEEEEEEE!
5. My #2 son, who has been fighting a cold, earned a rare (for
him) slot on my sh*t list. After his bath, he allegedly ran through
the living room and wiped his nose on the back of the recliner.
I say allegedly, because I didn't see it. From downstairs, I heard
the SLAP of HH's hand on his bare little 8-year-old a$$, which
made me cry and put HH in a second slot on my sh*t list. And
to compound the crime, HH was heard to brag, "YEAH! It left
a big red spot, didn't it?" I hate his child-rearing (oops! I said
'rear' when I was talking about an a$$, heh heh) techniques.
Make the kid clean it up, or go to his room, or give up the
GameBoy. But (heh heh, 'butt') don't whack him for something
like this. Save the whackin' for the lying or the backtalking.
6. My DoNots have worn out their welcome. Have they tried
all year to do their best, to wring every ounce of help out of
poor old Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, just so they could pass? H*ll no!
They played the timewasting game, pretended to be working,
didn't ask for help, lied about already having it turned in. What
do they do 3-and-a-half days before school is out, when Mrs.
Hillbilly Mom would like to show them a David Blaine tape,
so she can wrap up the end-of-the-year loose ends? Bring
freakin' work, that's what! "Oh, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom? Could
you check my 5-page science worksheet for me?"
Sure. That's my job. Just like your job is PISSING ME OFF!
who discovers at 2:56 p.m. that his truck (which he assumed was
safely ensconced on the school parking lot) has been prankishly
filled with newspapers.
It is a combination of things making me angry. I will try to shorten
the list to just the major reasons that PEOPLE PISS ME OFF!
1. I am fed up with shopping for food. Let my household forage
for themselves. Nothing has been going right. My junk food
junkies needed a fix of gourmet chocolate chip cookies found
only at the Save-A-Lot every now and then. We stopped there
yesterday, which I didn't mind, because Save-A-Lot makes me
feel OH SO PRETTY. Except they were out of chocolate chip,
so I bought oatmeal raisin. This caused an accusatory bellow
of "Why should YOU have cookies when WE don't?" Jeez!
You'd think I robbed their Easter baskets like their dad does.
Because these kids won't eat oatmeal cookies. So of course I
bought them for me, to taunt them with.
When I was in line, with the checker who is older than Methusela's
great-great-grandpappy, the previous customer came back to
whine, and take up MY one-on-one time with the crypt-keeper.
It was an older lady (older than me, heh heh) who looked like
Miss Jane Hathaway from the Beverly Hillbillies. Not the Lily
Tomlin Miss Jane from the movie with Jim Varney. The Nancy
Kulp Miss Jane from the black-and-white reruns. "Can't you
give me a better five than this? It's all ragggggggged." She was
a slow-talker and a man-talker. And she got a new five. Hey!
Miss Jane! It's currency. You have it now, and when you buy
something, you give it away. You don't need mint money to
hang on your wall. Get over it!
Tonight I tried to eat a Wal*Mart big salad for supper. It was
the chef salad, not the chicken caesar salad that I prefer. This
thing was so bad that Elaine would have told George to go get
a refund. The lettuce was watery. It was limp. I could squeeze
water out of it like a pale green minisponge. It was limp, I tell
you. Limp, like a black hairwad from a free hot tub. Eeewww!
2. My Hillbilly Husband's buddy, Buddy, is a borrower. Forget
the picnic table he had for 3 years, the 'gallon' of gas that his son
asked for repeatedly to power his 4-wheeler, the bottle of BBQ
sauce...Monday evening, he showed up at 6:00 p.m. and asked
to borrow my computer. WTF!!! I said, "No." He had already
pushed past me into the mansion. He stopped and stared at me.
"No?" Like he couldn't believe it.
I told him my #1 son might let him on. That boy bought his own
computer, and does not like to loan it. Well, he did. I think he
was in shock. We were actually in the middle of him trying to
e-mail me a prank letter for his teacher, so I could use my
printer to make it more colorful. We were rushing to get done
by 7:00 to see David Blaine pretend to do magic.
Buddy said he just needed 10 minutes to check his e-mail.
Right. He was here 30 freakin' minutes, and was on Match.com.
I don't know what this is. Is it a shopping thingy like an internet
PriceCutter or something? At first, I thought he was on some
dating site, by listening to my son describe it. Anyhoo, Buddy
said AOL kicked him off for spam, but that it was really a
virus. None of this made any sense to me. But I wanted my
internet, and I wanted my life.
I hate visitors. Especially unannounced, time-sucking visitors
on a school night. The ones who've never done anything for
me, but expect me grant their every desire. And like it!
3. My HH himself is on the naughty list. How many times do I
have to tell this man to stay out of my freakin' stuff? I do not
want him using my pink razor tailored for a woman's sensitive
skin to shave his scruffy freakin' beard or elsewhere! Eeewww!
Yet there it is, full of man-hairs, dull as HH himself. AND, this
morning I took the lid off my Lady Speed Stick Sunset Breeze
antiperspirant and found!!!HH's ARMPIT HAIR!!! Make the
images stop! I threw it away. I can't stand that sh*t! Oh, and
I wouldn't be surprised if he has used my toothbrush on occasion.
He has no sense of personal belongings. His excuse is, "Well,
you're married to me. It's all ours, not yours." EEEEEEEE!
Get this...he leaves his toothbrush in the shower. On one of
those seat thingies that are built into two corners of our huge
shower. Doesn't he know that water hits body parts and then
splashes onto his toothbrush, and he then puts it in his mouth?
Eeewww! That toothbrush ain't ours, honey--it's yours!
4. My #1 son is on my last nerve. Monday night, since we got
delayed with his little prank project, I asked him to run up to
his room and tape David Blaine for me. I labeled a brand-
spankin' new tape 'David Blaine'. I reminded him to start it
a couple minutes early, and end it a couple minutes late, so
I didn't miss anything. He came back down. "It's taping, Mom."
I quizzed him on whether he actually saw the counter moving.
He assured me all was well. I didn't watch the news Tuesday
morning. I didn't want the David Blaine ending spoiled for me.
I told my students at school that I taped it, and I would show
it to them when all work was caught up. This morning, I took
the tape to school. As I was readying my room for the day,
I popped it in to make sure it was at the beginning. Did I see
my David Blaine? H*LL NO! I had 6 freakin' hours of
freakin' Cartoon Network! EEEEEEEEEE!
5. My #2 son, who has been fighting a cold, earned a rare (for
him) slot on my sh*t list. After his bath, he allegedly ran through
the living room and wiped his nose on the back of the recliner.
I say allegedly, because I didn't see it. From downstairs, I heard
the SLAP of HH's hand on his bare little 8-year-old a$$, which
made me cry and put HH in a second slot on my sh*t list. And
to compound the crime, HH was heard to brag, "YEAH! It left
a big red spot, didn't it?" I hate his child-rearing (oops! I said
'rear' when I was talking about an a$$, heh heh) techniques.
Make the kid clean it up, or go to his room, or give up the
GameBoy. But (heh heh, 'butt') don't whack him for something
like this. Save the whackin' for the lying or the backtalking.
6. My DoNots have worn out their welcome. Have they tried
all year to do their best, to wring every ounce of help out of
poor old Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, just so they could pass? H*ll no!
They played the timewasting game, pretended to be working,
didn't ask for help, lied about already having it turned in. What
do they do 3-and-a-half days before school is out, when Mrs.
Hillbilly Mom would like to show them a David Blaine tape,
so she can wrap up the end-of-the-year loose ends? Bring
freakin' work, that's what! "Oh, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom? Could
you check my 5-page science worksheet for me?"
Sure. That's my job. Just like your job is PISSING ME OFF!
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 6:30 PM
11 Comments:
HH took the same Child 101 Mr.Coach did apparently! He would have swatted him too. But then again, I might have if it had been my chair.............Although if Bryce wiped his nose I would have been thrilled, no matter on what, he's more of a sucker than a swiper!
Doesn't he know that water hits body parts and then splashes onto his toothbrush, and he then puts it in his mouth?
There was a show on the TV about a month ago that had people swab their armspits after having a shower.
Yup, they found traces of fecal matter in the sample.... Yuck...
Oh I totally sympathize with the food issues. When I ask Mr. Diva what he wants from the Wal*Mart in the way of snacks/treats he's always like, "Eh, whatever. I don't care." Then when I come home with what sounded good to me and the kids at the time I am reamed over it. Just because he doesn't like Fig Newtons doesn't mean he has to get all nasty about it.
In the shopper-ahead-of-you'd defense, maybe she was headed to a casino. Some of those bills aren't slot machine friendly. =)
Unannounced visitors piss me off, too. Because usually they catch me bra-less and they never come to visit on the one day a month the house is clean.
Okay, the HH using the deodorant....GAG. Mr. Diva and Sam share deodorant and that makes me totally skeeve. Bleh. *shudder*
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Big Blogger 2 - Task #2 - "In Da House"
Our 2nd task for Big Blogger is to create a posse. We must choose two people from our blogroll that can run as our offsiders and we have to rhyme why they are cool enough to run wit' us.
Word. Yeah.
Sooooo.....
I got my girrrlz together
and we formed a bad-ass group.
We have lotz of thingz in common -
Number one iz baby poop.
We're a gang of redneck mamaz,
Don't go messin' wit our kidz
Or you'll find yo'self in a 55-gallon drum
Wit' us sealin' all da lidz.
Now, don't go thinkin' we're all evil,
We're not as violent as we sound.
Just mind yo' mannerz, wipe yo' nose
And at naptime settle down.
By day my girrlz are secretareez,
But at night da hair comes down.
They slap on do'rags, sag their draw's
And head out on da town.
Jen works at a lib-rare-ee
At da local college.
She seemz mild-mannered and super sweet
But she'll kick yo' ass full of knowledge.
In da morning about 8
Off to work she'll go.
But at night she'z doin' drive-byz
Tossin' cheezecake out da window.
Stormie iz my homegirl.
She'z as Irish as can be.
With red hair, frecklez and lots of 'tude
She'z Irish Divinity.
She won't kill you wit a gun.
She's not a natural born killa.
She'll just leave a turkey in her van for a week
And kill you wit' Sal-mon-illa.
So now you know our namez
You pansy-assed bunch of whinaz.
We're three tough mommas,
We don't back down.
"...to see David Blane pretend to do magic." That cracked me up.
Mr. Diva tends to bring out the spankin's for things are really not spankable offenses. That reallllllllly bugs me.
Damn DoNots.
Hope today was better, my immune friend.
Oh, I'm seeing my child more and more as one of your DoNots every day. All year she's had to study and do her work and learn her multiplication table (how many years now has she been working on this?) and tonight, she tells me TWENTY MINUTES before bedtime that she has to study her mutliplication table before going to bed because she HAS to make an A on this test tomorrow. We weren't even home yet when she tells me this. So, I drilled her on those pesky multiplications for the last few miles before we got home, then she hopped in the shower and gets out right at 9:00. "Okay, Mamma, quiz me some more!" I think she was just finding new and irritating ways to stay up past her bedtime. Frikkin' DoNots! I cringe to think of the nicknames her teachers give her when she's not around to hear.
Mrs. and Lantern,
Thanks so much for the hygiene lessons. It is OH SO ICKY to even think about that stuff.
Diva,
Our husbands are the same man. We'll catch him one of these days.
Umm...Dear Diva: some people actually get their own blogs to do things like...oh...I don't know...POSTING BIG BLOGGER ENTRIES! Perhaps you should look into it. I hear you can get the most wonderful keyword searches...
Stacie,
The teachers won't call her names unless she decides that IT IS THE TEACHER'S FAULT that she waited until the last minute. Or if she hits a teacher. That's why we don't feel too bad about talking about my 'Mum' kid.
We will bend over backwards, we will jump through hoops, we will dance the light fandango...we will become regular educational acrobats if we see one little glimmer of effort, or interest, from these kids. But after years of apathy compounded with crappy attitude, we will give up and put our efforts into kids we can reach.
WTH??? I have NO IDEA why my post ended up in your comments!!!
That is so strange...
Diva,
Blogger has been acting up with my posts, telling me 'blog not found'. I have to republish the whole blog before it will accept my post. Now Blogger has given me a little gift in the form of your Big Blogger entry. Bwahaha! The planets are aligned with me.
So what's next, Dear Diva? Are you gonna start spamming me?
As a wise man once said, 'Anger Is An Energy'.
Cheers!
=D
Ill Man,
If that's so, then I could run a marathon!
I think the bending over backwards ended right about Christmas time for my kid. Every teacher this year has said the same exact thing..."She's such a sweet little girl, never causes any problems, hardly even says a word. In fact, I sometimes forget she's even here. But, she just won't do her work!" She's her Daddy's girl, for sure! I got her signed up for summer school this week. She's mad. She's trying the blame game, kind of, she really knows it's her own fault. I think she honsestly thought we wouldn't put her in summer school. Made a believer out of her, didn't we? Now she has to miss church camp, which she's really hacked about. Poor, poor baby. Yeah. Whatever.
Stacie,
As we teachers like to say: "Maybe that'll learn her!"
Too many of my students have no consequences at home. They get away with murder. I just hope it isn't mine.
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