Monday, July 31, 2006

Chafing Irritations

Hey, guess what? People piss me off! Didn't see that one comin',
did ya? It is 100 degrees in the shade, 105 degrees on the fancy
car mirror thermometer thingy with the car on a blacktop parking
lot with the air conditioner running, and probably 99 degrees in the
doggie Ann's tunnel to China under the 5th wheel camper in the
front yard.

I had to run some errands in this sweltering inferno. Three and a
half hours worth of errands. With my precious hillbilly fighting
spawn in the car. The plan was to go to school to turn in my
signed, updated contract which we get every year after a modest
raise is approved when adjustments are made to the salary
schedule. We also planned to meet #1 son's girlfriend there to
swap some stuff after the Six Flags trip. I'm getting ahead of
myself. Here's that story.

There was a thunderstorm in the St. Louis area on Saturday
afternoon, and the big Six Flags rides and that water park thingy
they have there were shut down. #1 said they were next in line
for some thingy at the water park, and they had to leave. In the
commotion, he left wearing his orange swim trunks and his cotton
button front plaid shirt. A bit of a fashion faux pas. He got home
around 8:30, and made the entourage get out of the van and
admire his compressed air soda bottle rocket launcher thingy
that he made with some PVC pipe. By the time they left, he was
dragging. I told him to unpack his Wal*Mart sack of clothing
and give me the money he didn't spend. Hey! I gave him $50,
because I didn't know if he'd have to buy a ticket, buy his own
food, or what. He said he only spent $4.25 on a soda.

The boy dragged that sack into the living room, and took out
items one at a time, throwing them on the floor. Because that's
how hillbilly young 'uns unpack. Out came the shoes, the socks,
the t-shirt he was supposed to wear with his swimming trunks,
the towel...and that was the bottom of the bag. He glared at
me and demanded: "Where did you put my shorts?" You know,
the shorts with $45.75 in the pocket. I made it clear that I had
no idea where the shorts were...they were HIS shorts. He is
the last one that wore them, not me. I told him I was taking the
money out of his money he's been saving for a laptop if it didn't
turn up. Oooooh! Then he got serious. "When we left, we were
in a hurry. I grabbed my bag, but everything else was just stuffed
in a locker. Girlfriend's Mom grabbed a pile of stuff and took
it to the car. She has my shorts."

I made him call their cell phone. They had only been gone about
20 minutes. Yes, they said they had the shorts, did we need them
now? I said no, we could pick them up Monday when I went to
school, because then they'd only have to drive about 5 miles to
school. Agreed. Then I told the boy, "What if she decides to be
nice and wash your shorts? You didn't tell her you had money in
them." So he called her back, and told her he had money in his
pocket, and that he had a pair of socks that weren't his, because
he was wearing his, and there was a pair in his bag.

To make this long story longer, we got to school and guess who
wasn't there? You are such good guessers! The original plan had
been to meet at 10:00, but Girlfriend's Mom said the kids were
still sleeping at 8:45, and could we make it 11:00. So, at 11:00,
she calls and says they all just woke up, and they'd be there in
5 minutes. This family is a bit challenged in the chronology dept.
They arrived at 11:18 and traded the shorts for the socks, the
money was all there, and everybody was happy. Except probably
Girlfriend's Mom, because she had to wake up the kids at 11:00
and haul them to town.

Now, back to my pisser-offers. There was the pharmacy worker
who was really polite, and as I walked out the door I heard her
shout, "Witch!" I'm sure that's what she said. Surely she was just
playing with one of the 10,739 pharmacy techs that were counting
pills behind the counter. Hey! Maybe they should rename that
'counter' thingy.

Next was the Wal*Mart check-out lady. Oh, it was a different
one this time. Not tooooo old, not tooooo slow, but by cracky,
those checkers are obsessed with the paper freezer bags. This
one demanded: "GIVE ME YOUR FREEZER BAGS!" before
I even had all the goods on the conveyer. I forked them over.
She proceeded to stuff in my ice cream (it's nearing Sonic Cherry
Diet Coke addiction status) and stuff that I had no intention of
putting in them. The corn dogs, the salad, the celery, the lettuce.
Which meant that the poor ice cream was in a freezer bag that
wouldn't close. Then, when I tried to punch in my PIN for the
debit card, the stinkin' stupid pen thingy wouldn't work. It
wouldn't take the first number, but took the second. I told that
old wench that I had hit a wrong number, and she barked:
"That's because you didn't push it hard enough!" Aha! How
would she know that was the problem? I just said I hit a wrong
number! It's a scam! A low-down dirty scam to piss me off,
I tell you! Darn those Wal*Mart checkers and their secret
freezer bag/pin number society!

My world was full of pissers today. On the home front, the
domestically challenged HH had left his empty soda can on
the downstairs TV table. I was fed up with his antics. I set it
right in the middle of his precious pool table. I should have
turned on that beer light thingy to spotlight it. HH saw it and
snatched it up right away. Heh heh! I'll train him yet.

And the last pisser was the #1 son, who shot #2 in the throat
with a bow and arrow. OK, so it was a toy that shot those
rubber suction-tip arrows, but according to #2, he was only
3 inches away. He had a big red mark on his throat. For some
reason, I didn't think I would have to specify to an 11-year-old:
"Do not shoot your brother in the thoat with an arrow from 3
inches away." I kind of thought that went without saying. Like
he should know he's not allowed to point it at his brother, just
like the dart guns and slingshots and various projectiles that
lie about the house. Duh!

And let me re-emphasize, in case you've missed it somewhere
down the line in my three blogs...

I love the word 'thingy'. By cracky!

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Bad News From the Mansion

We had a tragedy today. HH left through the kitchen door around
10:30 to go buy some watch batteries and browse through the
flea markets. At 10:32 he came in the front door, asking where
the kids were. I told him they were in #1 son's room, fighting over
some Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie crumbs. Not to eat them.
Fighting over who had to dispose of them. HH said, "You can't
let them come outside. I ran over Cubby."

What was his plan, to keep the boys in the Mansion the rest of
their lives? I told him he had to break the news to them. HH went
in the bedroom, and #2 son came out. So HH only told #1. He
didn't have much of a reaction. HH came out, #2 went back in,
and HH said, "I have to get the gun." Yeah, Diva, you know
what I'm talkin' 'bout. I went to talk to the boys to distract them,
because the crime scene is about 10 feet from #1's room. I never
did hear a shot.

#2 son came back to the living room, chatting away about finding
gold (he's quite the little optimist, but I don't think he is that lucky
to find gold in these parts). I told him I had some bad news, and
explained about Cubby. That boy cried for two hours. OK, so
I cried, too. And I didn't even like that dog. I'm the one who was
ready to give him away. Perhaps we should have.

I told the boys to stay in the house, and stepped out on the front
porch to check on HH's progress. I saw his back walking down
to the side of the house by the "collector truck". HH was carrying
a Save-A-Lot box, and all I could see was Cubby's tail sticking
out. HH had his work cut out for him, as the ground is dry and
packed, and the heat index 105. Grizzly and Ann went with HH,
and laid in the shade near the grave site. They had that sad doggy
look about them.

I asked HH if he was going to put a rock on top of it, and he said,
"Yeah. After I find a rock." I'm sure there are some down by the
creek. I told him that Ann would dig up Cubby the minute he was
done with the burial if he didn't cover the grave. She has a hole
half-way to China under the camper. HH put the upside down
wheelbarrow on it, and will get a rock when the ground settles.
He took the bloody box to the BARn to burn it. Grizzly walked
all the way around the grave and rolled in the dirt. Ann hid under
the camper in her China tunnel.

HH said when he went outside, Ann came out from under the
truck. Cubby usually comes out, too. HH started the truck, let
it run for a minute, and backed up. He heard a yelp. When he
got out, he saw that he'd run over Cubby's head. HH said at
first he thought he'd just throw him in the back of the truck and
get rid of him on the way to town, and tell the boys he just
disappeared. Then he felt guilty that Cubby wouldn't be buried. guilty would he have felt every time the boys said,
"Cubby still didn't come home today"? Poor kids. Poor Cubby.
He never was the sharpest knife in the drawer, that pitiful mutt.
It took him forever to learn how to go up and down the porch
steps. Now he is gone, and we miss his stupid ways.

I let #2 out to look at the grave, but he didn't want to get off the
porch. We talked about when we found Cubby on that rainy night
in February, and how he had everything a stray dog could have
dreamed of while he lived with us.

HH told him that we can't replace Cubby, but maybe we can get
another dog. I am worried about #1 son's lack of emotion. He
was their playmate, the one who always got out of the large
SUV halfway down the driveway so the dogs could run out
and jump on him. He was the one who went out to pet them
several times a day, and gave them rawhide chew toys. Which
they ate in about 5 minutes. He was the only one who could
catch Cubby. Also, I worry about Ann. She was never far
from Cubby. If he was out of her sight, she was nervous and
went to find him. She bullied and bossed him from morning
to night. They were a team. A team of dumb, porch-chewing,
phone-line-digging, plastic-eating, yapping troublemakers.
That's why HH said I couldn't give Cubby away--Ann would
pine for him.

I don't know if Ann and Grizzly will accept a new dog. We
might look for a pound puppy next week. We'll see if Ann
will bond with Grizzly like she did with her brother Cubby.

And now I must interrogate HH about where he put that pistol,
and make him show me that it is not loaded.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

The Early Bird Catches the Parking Lot

Can I get any more boring? Let me answer for you: NO. The
highlight of my day was taking my 11-year-old son to town to
meet his girlfriend at 7:30 a.m. for a trip to Six Flags. Poor
child. He has been sleeping until 10:30. But he got up early,
forgot his swimwear in a Wal*Mart bag on the kitchen table,
and was almost pleasant for such an early hour.

I rescued the swimwear, and off we went. We waited. The phone
rang. It was Girlfriend. "We just got up. We'll be there in about
15-20 minutes." Ahem. They live past school. It takes me 25
minutes to get to school. The phone rang again. Girlfriend's mom.
"We will be leaving here in 15-20 minutes. We'll be there in
about 45 minutes."

While the boy mourned his lost sleep, we headed to the bank,
because hey, PowerBall is 155 million tonight! We got back to
the Save-A-Lot parking lot, a highly-recommended meeting place,
and waited. We waited. I told #1 son, "You know, they are
probably cooking bacon and eggs right about now." The phone
rang. Girlfriend's mom. "We are just now leaving to go pick up
Girlfriend's girlfriend's brother. It will be about 25-30 minutes."

We left the parking lot again, to go pick up a package at the
post office. Only the post office didn't open for another 20
minutes. We went back. I went in Save-A-Lot, hoping to buy
a cheap styrofoam cooler for some milk and butter that was on
my shopping list. No coolers. I bought a bag of ice, and wrapped
it and and the cold stuff in a blanket in a Save-A-Lot cast-off box.
Because that's how you save a lot. You box your own groceries
and they don't have to dispose of their cardboard. Anyhoo, I
might have forgotten to mention that there was a heat alert today,
and the heat index was expected to go over 105 degrees. Thank
the Gummi Mary, I always carry a flannel blanket in the car.

We waited. I asked about this 'brother' they were picking up, and
discovered that originally, #1 son was going with Girlfriend and
her 2 best female friends and her sister. Hmm...then this 'brother'
had to invade my boy's harem. Anyhoo, they finally arrived, and
said they stay until the park closes at 10:00. They plan to bring #1
son home. We are about an hour and a half from Six Flags. It will
take 30 minutes more to bring him home and get back to town IF
they don't get lost. I have a feeling they will call me to meet them in
town to pick him up. Which is OK, because I stay up late anyway.

But I would like to have my extra hour and a half of sleep from
this morning. Geez! Have they never heard of an alarm clock?
Though I am annoyed, they have not pissed me off, because they
did volunteer to take my annoying boy, and did not want him to
pay for his ticket or anything. I did send him with money, and tell
him to offer to pay. He gave them a hot tip on getting the tickets
at Schnuck's, he says. He saw a commercial for adults pay kids'
price and kids get in free. They might have already known about
it, but that is where they got the tickets. And we don't have a
Schnuck's around here.

Soooo...I am worried to have him out of my sight for so long, but
it sure has been peaceful around the house today.

Friday, July 28, 2006

In Explanation

OK, I know the only thing different is the color. I was tired of being
OH SO BLUE. And...I feel much lighter after having dumped 288
posts. I had 278 when I abandoned my Redneck Review blog. If
only I could do that with my real home. Whenever it gets dirty and
cluttered, I could move to a new house. That, or borrow a Carlos
or two from Redneck Diva to help me spruce things up.

It was taking too long to publish my posts, and it was hard to find
my previous wit to link when I wanted to show off how I used to
be funny. Now the Mansion is once again lean and mean. Emphasis
on the mean. Because people piss me off, remember?

I am not so fond of the color, but I do not like WHITE WHITE
because it is too glaring in my dark basement lair. I do understand
that the blue was hard to read in the light. The light which I avoid
like a vampire roach. But this is not for any of you and your now
damaged eyesight.

Since I am not smart enough to put my posts in some FittyMaid
container and drag them out every now and then, I had to find a
method of storage. I simply changed the name of my old Hillbilly
Mansion blog, and then started a brand new one with the old name
and a different Blogger template. Because I am too stupid and too
cheap to get a good template. You must admit I was very clever
in naming the old archives blog. It's listed here, somewhere.
Happy scavenger hunt. I am all about entertaining you.

And since people in general find joy in others' pain...yesterday
I received my letter to report back to school August 14. EEEEE!
EEEEEEEEEE! I didn't quite have enough room on that line to
convey my true feelings. Don't get me wrong. I like my work.
Once I get going. It's the transitions I don't like. I feel rushed.
Plus, I have to manage all the day-to-day activites of the children.
Like feeding and clothing and homeworking and lunch packing
and bathtiming and bedtiming and driving to school and whacking.
The children who hang around my neck like bloated mangey
possums. Stewed Hamm liked that reference, methinks. If I
remember correctly, he said he could feel the love radiating
from me. Stop yer feelin', Stewie!

Aside from the move and the back-to-work info, I have nothing
to tell you. Well, nothing that I can say politely, and nothing that
wouldn't get me into some hot water with someone or other.
And hot water reminds me of the free hairwad hot tub, which
still smells like old people, even though HH swears it is chlorine.

The #1 son is going to Six Flags with a girl tomorrow. Maybe
he will give me something to blog about. Heh heh. That made
me think: what if the world was one big childhood, and you
were told "Stop that blogging or I'll really give you something
to blog about!" ? I revealing too much about my

Thursday, July 27, 2006

My First Post From My New Home

Am I really here? It only took 10 minutes to move. Unlike some
people who drag it out for months. You know who I'm talkin' 'bout,
don't you?

Welcome. I am still fixing things up. Check back later and I might
be more hospitable. Or I might not.