Saturday, August 26, 2006

Fantasize With Hillbilly Mom

I said WITH, people. Not ABOUT. Fantasize WITH me.
I just finished reading I Love You More Than You Know, by
Jonathan Ames. I read it in the bathroom, which is no comment
on the writing of Mr. Ames, and perhaps more than you need to
know, but I'm all about the truth here at the Mansion. The altered,
anonymous truth, which I see fit to write.

It was a pretty good book, as this type of book goes, thought I
didn't laugh out loud at it like I did with Hollis Gillespie's Bleachy-
Haired Honky Bitch, or Paul Fieg's Kick Me: Adventures in
Adolescence. However, I'm not writing a book-review column,
so let's get back to my original idea.

Mr. Ames lists some of his favorite fantasies, such as rescuing a
woman from an attacker, rescuing kids from a burning building,
and become a middle-aged star baseball player. OK, so the
baseball player fantasy was first on his list. But it started me
thinking of what everyday people dream of. Do they have big
dreams, or little dreams? Hey! They're your dreams! You can
be the Queen of England if you wish! Except that she's really
not all that attractive, and she's getting on in years, and she has
those annoying Corgis, but still, that might be somebody's

Mine are not so grand. Let's take the rest of today's post to
discuss them. But it's probably going to be a one-sided kind of
discussion, since it's MY blog, and it's the weekend, and not
many people are going to read it or comment on it. Here they
are, in no particular order:

I win the lottery. HH has no say in how we spend it. I pay off all
the bills, and give some of it away to people who deserve it,
but haven't asked for it. Once they ask me, I don't want to give
it to them. I give some to people who work hard and get little
thanks or compensation for the jobs they do. I give some to
students or former students who I think were dealt a rough hand
in life, and can use the money to make successes of themselves.
I use some to buy actual working computers for some of the
classrooms at school. The ones who are always overlooked,
and get stuff from the computer graveyard. After giving some
to HH to buy the tractors and cars and gadgets he wants
because he didn't have enough toys as a kid, I give some to
my boys for electronic stuff that they crave. Then I stick the
rest in the bank. I will live in the same house (it's a mansion, you
know) and work until the end of the school year. Because that's
the kind of gal I am, and I wouldn't want my teaching license
revoked for breaking my contract and quitting in the middle of
the year, because what if we got a bad accountant, and he
took all the money and bought a circus? Oops! That's a sitcom
episode from the show where I got that quote: "I have a thirst
for knowledge. In fact, I yearn for it."

Fantasy Two: I check into a casino for a week, and play to my
heart's content. I don't have to answer to anybody, but I take a
friend so I will have companionship during meal times. We will
have separate rooms, because I want to snore without worrying
that I am a nuisance. And I can't have somebody following me
all around the casino. It cramps my style. I don't really care if
I win. I don't even have to conjure up fantasy money to play.
I just want the time to do what I want, when I want, and not
have to take care of anybody.

Fantasy Three: I write a book that people simply love, but I
don't have to do any work promoting it, and I use a psuedonym
so that nobody comes a-knockin' on the door of my mansion
to ask, "What was THAT all about?" in reference to some of
the more juicy parts. Even HH won't know I wrote it, and I
will earn a little bit of money from it, but not enough to make
me quit my job or anything. I don't want the fame or money,
just the thought that I could do something people would enjoy
and respect. I would even discuss the book with people at
school and pretend I didn't write it, like Weaver did on that old
ER where she had written a novel with thinly-disguised characters
such as doctor "Martin Bean" and head nurse "Carly Halloran",
and the main character had a "withered leg." And just in case
you're wondering...I really can use proper punctuation and
grammar if I want to. Which I certainly didn't here, because I
started sentences with 'and' and 'which' and ended them with
prepositions, and had many a fragment in between.
Because I can.

Fantasy Four: I clean up my house until it is spotless, and you
can eat off the floor. (Well, you could do that now, because
there are enough crumbs to sustain you and all the other Who's
mouses, but that's not part of the fantasy). I get rid of my old
furniture and put in new carpet and of course get new furniture,
and paint the walls with that slick paint that is washable like I
originally told HH when we built the house but he used other
stuff and now it really shows the kids' smudges. Of course we
won't do it in that order, because we'll get paint on the new
furniture, but I think you get the drift of what I'm saying. I'll put
a double stainless steel sink in the kitchen, like I had at my old
house, instead of the almond-colored ceramic-type thingy HH
put in because HE liked it. I might even put up some real curtains
instead of miniblinds. I will get rid of that blasted laundry sink
that HH found (!) somewhere and brought home and waited
until we built a new house to use it, and put in between my
washer and dryer, because who wants a plastic stand-up laundry
sink between a washer and dryer, since it is just a haven for wet
swimsuits and water guns that never get used and the only thing
it is used for is filling a pitcher with water to pour into the dog's
dish, and it is totally in the way of tossing wet clothes from the
washer into the dryer. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
I must rid the house of HH's influence.
It's a total mansion make-over.

There you have it. HM's fantasies. Don't have nightmares.
I told you mine, now you tell me yours. Only the PG ones,
please. I'm talkin' to you, Stewed Hamm!


Stewed Hamm said...

Why do I get the feeling you're looking at me like that. You know the look I'm talking about.
Yeah, that one.

Jeez, you tell one dead teenage hooker joke and all of a sudden you're the bad guy.

LanternLight said...

I just finished reading I Love You More Than You Know, by Jonathan Ames. I read it in the bathroom, which is no comment on the writing of Mr. Ames

We used to have an outside bathroom. The quality of the book paper was important.

As far as fantasies go, just enough money to pay off my debts, and so I do not have to work at a paid job again.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Yes, I know the look you're talking about. It's the left-eyebrow-lifted "you don't really want to do that again, now do you?" look. I'm glad you respond to my non-verbal cues.

We used to have an outside bathroom before we built this house...just to use when we were out here working on it. Did you know that squirrels LOVE toilet paper? You do now.

See, we don't ask for much, do we? Just enough to get by and be happy.

Redneck Diva said...

I am definitely going to turn this into a post for my blog because I'm a stealer and I just do that. But in my defense, you did say to share ours, too. It's just that mine are too long to put in your comments section.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Go ahead, take it. I don't want it anyway. But if I find out that you took my purse out of my gym locker, we're gonna have an old-fashioned hair-pullin' redneck girlfight. Wear your good bra, not the uniboob one, because sometimes shirts get ripped off in those fights. That's what the students tell me, anyway.