And now, a threat from Hillbilly Mom...
No, not a treat. A threat! What the 'h' were you thinking, that I
was about to give you a treat? It ain't Halloween, people! I'm not
driving y'all to the Dairy Queen for a Mr. Misty. It's a threat, as
in an ultimatum. Like 'Do as I say, or else!' Do what? VOTE!
It is time again to hype Big Blogger 2 . We are down to threeeeee
contestants left in the competition. You can vote at the Eviction #9
post at Big Blogger 2. I won't exactly tell you who to vote for, but
keep in mind that I am a big attention wh*re, and everything's all
about ME, and I do love competing in Big Blogger until the bitter
end. None of this "I'm soooo busy" stuff for ME! I have nothing
better to do. I have no life. I have a hurt knee. My kids don't really
need to eat or wear clean clothes. They're hillbillies! They can run
around in their thermal underwear that they mistakenly think are
pajamas, and they know how to forage for food off the garage
floor. I have a lot of time on my hands. Time to complete any
challenges Big Blogger throws at ME.
I will put links to the other Cyberhousemates at the bottom of
this post. I won't come right out and say VOTE FOR ME. You
are adults. You can make your own decisions. vote. Some other
contestant just might appeal to you more than MOI. for. It takes
all kinds, as they say. ME. But they usually say it about someone
who is a little bit weird, don't you think? The boy who carries a
Barbie lunchbox, or the woman with 157 cats?
I can't stalk you to see how you vote. But I know how many
regular visitors I have, thanks to my StatCounter. I don't mean
the odd lot who drop in looking for gaping b*tthole girls, or
pole suckers, or hillbilly one tooth. I don't expect the day
campers to vote for ME. But by cracky, those of you who
come here every day can make two clicks of a mouse, can't
you? Unless you're like that deflated limp pothead girl lying on
the couch in that public service announcement. Because then
I doubt you would even be reading ME every day, since it
kind of takes effort to get through my longwinded all-about-ME
self-promotional propaganda. So I will expect about a third of
you regulars to have loyalty to someone else, and vote for them
instead of ME. But by cracky, I will expect 2/3 of my regulars
to vote for ME! There will be dire consequences if I am voted
out this week! I don't know what they are, but mark my words,
I will think of something. Perhaps more pictures of rocks from
my creek. Perhaps not.
Don't go getting all frightened of ol' Hillbilly Mom. I can't make
you vote. I can't terrorize you like that freak Michael Keaton in
the old movie Pacific Heights. I can't play Tonya Harding to your
Nancy Kerrigans. I don't even know a Gillooly. I wouldn't know
a Gillooly if he sent a goon to whack ME on the leg with a stick.
I will still love you even if I'm voted out. But I might withhold
that sweet, sweet hillbilly love for a while.
Think about it.
Hillbilly Mom's voting campaign devised by the geniuses who designed the 'butterfly's bag'
and 'calico-colored hamster's kidney snack' campaigns for G4's Midnight Spank.
Big Blogger 2 Cyberhousemates
was about to give you a treat? It ain't Halloween, people! I'm not
driving y'all to the Dairy Queen for a Mr. Misty. It's a threat, as
in an ultimatum. Like 'Do as I say, or else!' Do what? VOTE!
It is time again to hype Big Blogger 2 . We are down to threeeeee
contestants left in the competition. You can vote at the Eviction #9
post at Big Blogger 2. I won't exactly tell you who to vote for, but
keep in mind that I am a big attention wh*re, and everything's all
about ME, and I do love competing in Big Blogger until the bitter
end. None of this "I'm soooo busy" stuff for ME! I have nothing
better to do. I have no life. I have a hurt knee. My kids don't really
need to eat or wear clean clothes. They're hillbillies! They can run
around in their thermal underwear that they mistakenly think are
pajamas, and they know how to forage for food off the garage
floor. I have a lot of time on my hands. Time to complete any
challenges Big Blogger throws at ME.
I will put links to the other Cyberhousemates at the bottom of
this post. I won't come right out and say VOTE FOR ME. You
are adults. You can make your own decisions. vote. Some other
contestant just might appeal to you more than MOI. for. It takes
all kinds, as they say. ME. But they usually say it about someone
who is a little bit weird, don't you think? The boy who carries a
Barbie lunchbox, or the woman with 157 cats?
I can't stalk you to see how you vote. But I know how many
regular visitors I have, thanks to my StatCounter. I don't mean
the odd lot who drop in looking for gaping b*tthole girls, or
pole suckers, or hillbilly one tooth. I don't expect the day
campers to vote for ME. But by cracky, those of you who
come here every day can make two clicks of a mouse, can't
you? Unless you're like that deflated limp pothead girl lying on
the couch in that public service announcement. Because then
I doubt you would even be reading ME every day, since it
kind of takes effort to get through my longwinded all-about-ME
self-promotional propaganda. So I will expect about a third of
you regulars to have loyalty to someone else, and vote for them
instead of ME. But by cracky, I will expect 2/3 of my regulars
to vote for ME! There will be dire consequences if I am voted
out this week! I don't know what they are, but mark my words,
I will think of something. Perhaps more pictures of rocks from
my creek. Perhaps not.
Don't go getting all frightened of ol' Hillbilly Mom. I can't make
you vote. I can't terrorize you like that freak Michael Keaton in
the old movie Pacific Heights. I can't play Tonya Harding to your
Nancy Kerrigans. I don't even know a Gillooly. I wouldn't know
a Gillooly if he sent a goon to whack ME on the leg with a stick.
I will still love you even if I'm voted out. But I might withhold
that sweet, sweet hillbilly love for a while.
Think about it.
Hillbilly Mom's voting campaign devised by the geniuses who designed the 'butterfly's bag'
and 'calico-colored hamster's kidney snack' campaigns for G4's Midnight Spank.
Big Blogger 2 Cyberhousemates
Crash Of Rhinos- Hillbilly Mansion
- I don't do mornings
Knockin' On The Golden DoorLantern of LightLegless In PerpetuumPerspectives of a NomadRedneck Diva- Scotland of the Soul
Will Type For Food
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 11:50 AM
6 Comments:
Hillbilly Mom's voting campaign devised by the geniuses who designed the 'butterfly's bag'
and 'calico-colored hamster's kidney snack' campaigns for G4's Midnight Spank.
WTF???
Oh, and by the way, I voted for you both times. Because you're The $hit, Hillbilly Mom.
And I'm scared of you.
It would have been a very difficult choice if the Diva was still in the house.
Diva,
G4 is a satellite channel that used to be TechTV. My son watched it all the time. Now it is video game TV. It has a block of more adult programming called Midnight Spank, and these commercials run on other channels. I think maybe I've seen them on TLC or BRAVO.
Here are the commercials.
A guy goes into the restroom of a club, and is primping in front of the mirror. A butterfly lands on his shoulder, and asks what he is going to do. He says he is going back in the club. The butterfly, speaking in a sexy woman's voice, says something like "Watch Midnight Spank on G4, or Butterfly will open the bag. Do you WANT Butterfly to open the baaaaag?" In the mirror, the guy sees the bag begin to wiggle. It is a large duffle bag, and a dark liquid oozes out of the bottom. It's very creepy.
The other one is the hamster or guinea pig sitting by this guy in his bed. He says, "It's time to watch Midnight Spank, Tom. If you don't, calico-colored hamster will eat your OTHER kidney. Do you WANT calico-colored hamster to eat your other kidney?" Then it shows a dark spot on the sheet oozing out from Tom.
Those aren't exact, but I've only seen Butterfly a couple times, and #1 son told me about the hamster.
Nice to know you're voting for $hit! I appreciate it. I would do the same for you. I did for your beauty contest, and look how that turned out, OH SO WINNINGLY!
Lantern,
You're a-preachin' to the choir, buddy. I am well aware of the competitiveness of one MS REDNECK DIVA.
So... wait, we don't get Mr. Mistys? What about Mr. San Fransiscos?
Well, score that one an R. O. for "ripoff."
What about Mr. Pibbs?
(Word Verification today was "Ghapu." Oh yeah? Well Ghap You too, lady!)
Stew-The-Pooch,
No Mr. Misty for YOU! Mr. Pibb you can have. He's full of prune juice, you know...like an old man in comfortable slippers and a Mr. Rogers sweater. That 'Ghapu' was just the sound of Mr. Pibb sneezing some geriatric orange snot on you.
And FYI, my own verification is ONOLDQ. I'm not sure I want to interpret that.
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