From Redneck To Hillbilly

The blog where I went from a redneck to a hillbilly. Updating to keep this blog alive.

Fiddle Dee Dee

I am fiddling. Not fiddling like "Devil went down to Georgia", or
"fiddling while Rome burns", though I suppose there could be
something on fire there, perhaps some flustered villawife popped
a frozen pizza in the oven without removing the cardboard thingy,
though methinks they probably do not have frozen pizza in Rome,
which would be sorta like the Diva and I having some Possum
Helper in our pantries. Pantries, not panties, because that would
be another post entirely. Neither am I "fiddling about", like in the
VINYL album of the rock opera Tommy, which I am the proud
possessor thereof, because that "fiddling about" stuff is against
the law in these here parts.

Changes are afoot. That is what Alexandrialeigh said a while
back, and I was worried that something was wrong with her
foot, but she apparently was OK in the hoof department,
because she was referring to starting another blog with a
different name. But that's not what I'm doing.

After closely inspecting Deadpanann's underwear drawer, I am
going to follow her lead and dump my drivel into another blog.
Not that she had drivel.That is simply a reference to my own
junk. I do not want to move like I did last fall. Too much packing
and unpacking, and then I have to throw myself a housewarming
party, and I haven't even had the Big Blogger 2 afterparty yet.
I think I can do it. It may take me a couple days to get things the
way I like them. I hope not, because it should be something I can
do in 5 minutes or less if it works as planned.

What if is doesn't work, you ask? You skeptics who think I am
not technology-friendly, who doubt my computer IQ, who I
most often refer to as 'those voices in my head'?

I'll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.

Soap Bank Heifer Ice

I decided to clean the house yesterday morning. I got off to a good
start with folding some laundry and doing the dishes. Then I had to
make a trip to Wal*Mart for some soap. Not because the cleaning
made me dirty, but because I opened the last bar of shower soap
last week, and we are out. HH went to Wal*Mart Sunday evening.
Did he buy soap? Let me answer for you: NO! Why would he buy
anything we NEED?

I also had to go to the bank to deposit some check HH dragged
home. I don't know what it's for. He must have charged something
for work on our credit card, and now they're paying him back.
His car won't drive to the bank, you know. Only mine knows the
way. And wouldn't you know it, both drive-thrus were closed. Hey,
it's a small town, people. The only one open was the commercial
lane, and it had a line. So I had to go inside. I hate that. There are
always 5 tellers on break, and one working. As I drove into the
parking lot, after driving around the block to get back to it since the
drive-thru was busy, a car came in the exit and whipped in front of
my large SUV to take the spot I was headed for. I had to park
beside it. A crazy man got out and went in ahead of me.

I left the kids in the car. OK, so there's this little law against doing
that in Missouri, but I left the car on so they could run the air
conditioning, and that is better than having them whining and
hanging all over me in the bank line. It's not like there were going
to be any policemen around a bank. That's how they get robbed
so easy. Anyhoo...there was one teller working. The crazy guy
had gone off to the desk people who open accounts or just act
busy and high and mighty. They looked a bit panicked. He was
carrying a plastic bag full of something, and talking with a speech
impediment about having free Papa John's pizza coupons for
everybody, how many could he leave? One deskie said she didn't
handle that, and called another deskie over, who asked him what
was going on, and I didn't hear the rest because I got a teller.

It was my lucky day, because a teller magically appeared and
smiled, and I handed her the check and deposit slip. It took all
of 15 seconds to get my receipt. I noticed a "Teller of the Week"
plaque on her booth. Which made me wonder...it was Monday
at 12:23, was she so chipper in 3 1/2 hours of work that they
voted her the honor? #1 son said "Mom, they vote on it at the
end of the day on Friday, and then she gets it all this week." He
talked to me like I was Ralph Wiggums. He of "I eat paste",
Lisa Simpson's future husband.

From the bank, we headed to Wal*Mart for the soap and some
paper plates. I'm hosting the Big Blogger afterparty, you know.
I picked up some ice cream, because what's a party without
ice cream, and some whipped cream because what's ice cream
without whipped cream if you've got some overripe bananas
(sorry Aus-friends, they're like flying ants at the Diva homestead
around these parts) and a jar of cherries just sitting on the kitchen
counter begging "Make a banana split...do it NOW!"

It took about 5 minutes to walk from one side of the store to the
other and gather our scavenger items. It took about 20 minutes
in line. Remember that old slogan "At Wal*Mart, you're always
next in line"? I was next in line...at one of 4 checkouts with a real
live human being. Live may be a bit of an exaggeration. The lady
in front of me only had a couple jugs of some fruit drink and some
soda and water and an extra-large toddler in her cart. I don't
even think they charged her for the toddler. My checker was
older than the hills. Older than me and Mabel put together, with
HH and my mom and my grandma added in.

I told her I'd put the ice cream and whipped cream in one of those
brown freezer bags after she scanned them. The bossy old heifer
told me to open the brown bag and set it in the plastic bag because
that worked well. Duh! I guess she packs her suitcase in a trunk
when she travels. I had more than one brown bag, because I
wanted the stuff in separate bags because I fold them over and
they stay colder. Bossy Lou Heifer put it all in one brown bag.
So I took my other brown bag out, intending to separate the items
in the car. Bossy Lou became agitated. "You could have left that.
I'll use it on the next customer." Hey! Let them get their own free
Wal*Mart freezer bag! She was very cold to me as she hoofed
over my receipt. That's the way the brown bag bounces, Bossy.
Get over it.

After gathering my unattended children from the Wal*Mart game
room (HEY! They only got to in there for the 20 minutes I was
in line--I could see them fighting the whole time I was waiting)
we proceeded to Sonic for a round of corn dogs and Cherry
Diet Cokes. Then we had to go to the Citgo for some ice, and
who buys ice without lottery tickets? Not this ol' hillbilly. I cashed
in $20 worth of winners for that amount in tickets. My little lucky
#2 son won on 3 out of 4 of his tickets for a total of $17. Almost
even Steven, but not quite.

When I got back home after my 3 hour shopping trip, I was not
in a cleaning mood. 3 hours! I could have taken the Gilligan's
Island boat tour for that amount of time. Of course, I'd still be
on that island, but I don't think there was much cleaning to do
there, what with throwing away the coconut shell cups every
time you used them, and not needing to wash clothes because
they either wore the same thing everyday, Gilligan and Skipper,
you know I'm a-talkin' to YOU, or waiting until a new trunk
full of movie star clothes washed up on shore, Ginger.

Maybe I'll try the cleaning thing again today. Maybe not.

And the winner is...

This ain't no Miss Universe post. It's Miss Bloggerverse. And the
winner of Big Blogger 2 is: ME ME ME!!! Toot, toot, yeah...
BEEP BEEP! That's the sound of me tooting my own horn. What
did you expect? Donna Summer singing Bad Girls?

Yes, your very own Hillbilly Mom is the proud winner of Big
Blogger 2! Am I making you sick yet? Are any of you green with
envy? Anybody overindulge in sour grapes? Cause I'm proud as
punch. Not that nasty Hawaiian Punch, with the straw hatted guy
who used to walk up and pummel people in the commercials. The
OH SO DELICIOUS kind of punch served at awards dinners
and baby showers, the orange juice/pineapple juice/orange sherbet
kind of punch. Thank you to all my loyal voters. I couldn't have
done it without y'all!

To my worthy opponent, the rookie Cazzie, and all the other
worthy Cyberhousemates who fell by the wayside, one more
than once, here's to you! I raise my Sonic Cherry Diet Coke
in a toast! HooRah, y'all!

And now, for the dispensing of the winnings...I'm all about the
glory, baby! For my winnings, I will take 3 samples of Australian
coins, plus $1 and $5 paper money. Yes, that's right. I require
3 sets of coins in values of .01, .05, .25, .50, and bills of 1.00
and 5.00. If you have them. For all I know, you could barter
with kangaroo turds, because I am not a world traveler, and
know nothing of history, and am pretty much a poster hillbilly
for the ugly American. The reason I request such moolah is
because I'd like each of my children to have a set, and there
is a student at school who collects coins from other nations.
HH brings us coins from his world travels, and this is a country
we don't have. That's us Mansion folk...taking over the world
one nation's coinage at at time.

The rest of my winnings should go to Cazzie, the runner-up, to
fix up her Big Bus. Were I to have it, I would only put it into
lottery or Sonic Cherry Diet Cokes. It would fritter away in
several months, whereas a Big Bus is forever.

I hope Big Blogger deems these arrangements appropriate. I will
email her with the details, I can't have everybody on the internets
knowing my personal bidness. Let's just say that cash through the
mail is routine in the hillbilly world, but because my mail has been
stolen before, I will have to use an alternate shipping address.
They even stole my bills! Can you believe it? I couldn't either.
In fact, I didn't know it until I had two phone bills and two
electric bills that were 30 days past due. Hey! Do any of you
pay bills you don't get? Didn't think so. They even took my
letter telling me when to report back to work. Lucky for me,
I have my loyal friend, Mabel, to tell me where to go. And when.
Anyhoo...that's been a couple years ago, but I still ain't takin'
no chances with my winnings!

Now, for the best part...AFTERPARTY AT THE MANSION!
Give me some suggestions for entertainment, refreshments, guest
list, how to get rid of the kids and HH. Of course all Cyberhouse-
mates are invited, along with all of our readers. Each person may
bring ONE guest. Don't test me! There won't be enough room if
people bring more than one guest. I only have 20 acres, you know.
You may bring a buddy, a significant other, or somebody famous.
Let's hear what ideas y'all may have. Remember...what happens
at the Mansion stays at the Mansion. As well as any change that
falls out of anyone's pockets, and people who are too drunk to
drive home.

Fish: It's What's Not For Dinner

We could have had fish for supper. Yesterday's fishing trip was
bountiful for HH. #2 son caught 4 little fish. #1 caught 3 little fish.
I caught 1 little fish. HH caught 3 little fish AND a 6-pound blue
catfish. That thing was HUGE. It was as big as #1 son's thigh.
And even though he is only 11, he is the size of a 14-year-old.

HH put it on a stringer and tied it to the dock of the little pond.
We got ready to leave around 8:30. HH had plans to clean the
fish and cut it up and cook it on the grill. Then the plans changed
to let me cook it in the oven. Then I told him it would be 9:30
before we got home and he had the fish ready to cook. Who
wants to eat fish at 10:00 p.m.? Not me. This is the midwest,
baby! We eat supper at 5:00!

HH didn't want to wait until the next day to eat it. He was going
to stuff it in a cooler with some pond water to get it home. Then
he was just going to stuff it in a cooler. The next thing I knew,
he left it on the stringer and tossed it into the truck bed. I told
him no way was he going to drive it home like that. It would die.
HH said, "It's going to die anyway when I cut its head off and
gut it." Still, I didn't want him butchering a fish that died from
lack of oxygen.

HH got out the fish scale and weighed it. 6 pounds. He had
guessed 5 pounds. We didn't have the camera, because he
really wanted a picture of it. HH decided to throw it back in
the pond, to catch again another day.

See how lazy we are? Too lazy to fillet a fish and wrap it in foil
with some onions and potatoes and butter and sprinkle it with
some lemon pepper seasoning and pop it in the oven. That's
how lazy.

The little fish we caught were bluegill. HH used to make me
cook them, after we took the older boys fishing. They liked it.
The guys would be picking bones out of their mouths left and
right, because HH isn't a master fish filleter. Hmm...that "t" in
the word "filleter" is silent. Or else that could sound like kind of
a bad word, methinks. Don't ask. If you don't know it, you don't
need to know it. A middle school student explained it to the old
English teacher we had. She had a thirst for knowledge. She
yearned for it. See. Nobody could guess where that quote was
from the last time I asked. Now you're going to hear it all the
time, until somebody can guess. I even told you who said it
a while back. Y'all listen about as well as my young 'uns!

That is all I've got for now.
I'm going to get started on tomorrow's post.
Because the early bird catches the worm, and even though
I have a refrigerator full of Canadian nightcrawlers because
I forgot them when we went fishing, you can never have too
many worms.

Fishing and a Movie

We are going fishing later. I even bought some more Canadian
nightcrawlers. Last time, we went to a lake in town, and I caught
the most fish. I think I caught 2. And 2 turtles. Tonight we are
going to a bigger lake. We'll see what develops. I've caught a
giant turtle there. HH went to take it off the hook, and it reared
its head and hissed and snapped at him. It was an ugly beast,
about as big as a large pizza pan. HH whacked it on the head with
a stick, and it spit out the hook and bait. Don't call the ASPCA!
That turtle crawled right back into the lake. He's probably twice
that size now. They are evil, those snapping turtles. I hope I don't
catch one tonight.

Yesterday, the boys and I went to see Monster House. It was
great. It was a little bit scary for young kids. My 8-year-old was
shaking in his seat during the basement scene. Still, it was good.
#1 son was in the doghouse because he made me buy the giant
combo of popcorn and soda. It's not the price. I know I have
to cash in some lottery tickets to afford a movie. But he wouldn't
listen. I know we get the medium combo. Medium popcorn and
two medium sodas. The giant things we ended up with only cost
$.23 more, but they were hard to carry and hold. It's free refills
anyway. We could have gotten the children's size, but the price
is still outrageous.

The people across the aisle from us really pissed me off. I know,
that's surprising, huh? They burped throughout the movie. Great
big echoing frat boy burps. They were a middle-aged woman and
what looked like her late-teen daughter. It was disgusting. My
#2 son said, "I think that one was a fart!" He said it kind of loud.
I didn't admonish him. They needed to hear it. It did nothing to
cut down on the amount of burps, though.

The other people pissing me off were the ones who leave during
the movie. I know, kids have to go to the bathroom, and get
refills on their snacks. But they don't have to fling the door open
so wide that it sticks, and then light floods into the theater when
it should be dark and cave-like. And they should know enough
to close the freakin' door when they come back. These were
the adults who went with the kids. But noooo! They didn't seem
to notice their theater-door faux pas. I had to make #2 get up
and close it three times.

I'm sure WE never piss anybody off. #2 likes to talk throughout
the movie. At one point, something almost happened, and I said
to him quietly, "So close." And the animated actor on screen
said, "So close." #2 announced, "You're psychic!" Yes, son.
Yes, I am. No need to announce it to the burpers and door-
flingers. He's the one who, in the middle of Madascar, when the
animals' HELP sign fell apart, shouted, "HELL! It says HELL!"
My mom laughed until she cried. I didn't take her with us to
Monster House.

#1 son didn't sit with us. He sat by himself. I guess he's growing
up. When we got home, there was a message from his girlfriend
on the phone. She was calling from a Super8 Motel. Hoochie!
No, really, she said her power was out, and the family was
staying at the motel. In the background, you could hear her
sister saying, "And I loooove you!" Kids. She hasn't been calling
as much this summer, but I guess she's in training for when school
starts again. 11. It's the new 20.

Nothing else new here. I must go prepare supper before we go
fishing. We are not having fish.

Keep voting for the Big Blogger 2 champion.
Please, for the love of Gummi Mary, vote!

Big Blogger 2 - Task 14 - Miss Bloggerverse

Now, the moment you have all been waiting for: The Final Big
Blogger Challenge. I am running for Miss Bloggerverse. Here
are my instructions, direct from Big Blogger:

Ladies and Gentlemen. After months of Cyberhouse action, it has
come down to this, the final challenge. Our finalists are Hillbilly
Mom of Hillbilly Mansion, and Cazzie of I Don't Do Mornings.
With Big Blogger 2 coming down to having two fine ladies left in
the house, there is only one option for the final challenge.

Miss Bloggerverse

There are three sections to this challenge:

The Swimsuit section.
Find a photo online of what you think is the best swimsuit to show
off your blogging persona and explain your reasons.

The Evening Wear section.
At the Big Blogger after party, what are you going to wear to make
sure everyone notices you as you walk down the red carpet.

The Blogging Section.
Tell us why you should get to wear the crown of Miss Bloggerverse,
and the old standard of World Peace is not acceptable.
This Challenge will end Saturday night. Final votes will be tallied up
and the winner of Big Blogger 2 will be announced Monday.
Good Luck.


My Swimsuit Section

I must have this swimsuit. It truly defines my hillbilly heritage.

















You may recognize my long lost cousin, Jethro Bodine. I haven't
seen him in a coon's age. It seems like only yesterday we were
lying around the Cement Pond, discussing Granny's possum stew.
I love this swimsuit, because it is so versatile. Not only can I
model it on the Miss Bloggerverse runway, but I can use it to
go over Niagara Falls. I can easily store a pickle in my pocket
without somebody making a wisea$ comment about it. I can
gain or lose a few tens of pounds without worrying if my suit
will still fit. The color is easy to accessorize. And it doesn't go
up my crack.

My Evening Gown Section

My choice for the Evening Gown Competition is a bit toned down
from what some might choose. None of that glitz and glamour for
moi. I feel right at home in this classic ensemble.


It makes a particular statement,
methinks. And I can take my
trailer along to the red carpet
as my dressing room. Who
knew it was actually my home
away from the Mansion?

After the ceremonies, we can
have us a high old time in my
trailer. I hope those swanky
police dogs aren't trained in
meth.


I'm going to put a big banner on the side of it. The trailer, not
the evening gown. It will say: If this trailer's a rockin', don't
come a-knockin'. I know. I'm so original. I think I'll print up a
bunch of those for bumper stickers.

My Blogging Section

Why should I wear the crown of Miss Bloggerverse, you ask?
Elementary, my dear Watsons. I look good in crowns.





You've seen me in my
Royal Crown of Hillmomba.









You've seen me in my
Pop Top Coors Light Crown.






I ask you: Have you ever seen a pointy head better suited
for crown-wearing? Methinks not!

I suppose I must answer what I would do for the Bloggerverse
if I were to win Miss Bloggerverse. Since 'World Peace'
is not an option, I must answer: Stricter penalties for parole
violators, Stan. Oh. You say that was already used in Miss
Congeniality? Hmm...great minds think alike. In that case, I'd
like to say that if crowned Miss Bloggerverse, I will do my best
to rid the world of DoNots, and people who piss me off. That's
a kind of selfish, self-serving agenda, you say? What are you
doing talking during my speech? Shut your piehole! What I am
trying to tell you is that the agenda starts with me. ME ME ME!
Was there ever any question? If Hillbilly Mom ain't happy,
ain't nobody happy. So I will begin by cleaning up my little
world. Then we will see where it goes from there.

There you have it. My entry in the Miss Bloggerverse competition.
Voting is at Big Blogger 2. Vote early. Vote often. If you can.