Saturday, April 28, 2007

Hillbilly Mom Poses Some Questions

Mr. Barky von Schnauzer? Mr. Barky von Schnauzer?

Am I the only one who finds that commercial amusing? I don't even remember what it is advertising, but I cracks me up. I'm a bit simple sometimes.

Did you know that The Devil's Playground has new plastic bags? They are BIG. I got three of them today. Instead of 20 small plastic bags of Devil-y goodness. It must be because I had a male checker. He packed those puppies to the top. My one complaint is that my buns and bread loaves were in a bag with a jar of mild banana pepper rings. How many peppers has Chipper Checker packed? Because he should really be informed that you can't pack a heavy jar of stuff with the breadstuffs. Especially in a large plastic bag.

Do people lose their minds in The Devil's Playground? Or do they just leave them out in the car, stashed safely under the seat, so they don't have to THINK during Devilish cart-play? The woman in front of me had two carts. Now that's not as interesting as if she'd had two heads, or two butts, but still...she had TWO carts. Most of it was cases of soda. Like, 8 or 10 cases per cart. She had one cart in front of her, and one cart behind her. Chipper Checker came around the counter to her cart, so she didn't have to handle her heavy cases or hoist them high for checking. And wasn't that sentence an alliterator's dream? Chipper asked if she would need help to get them to the car, and she said, in a kind of pissy, put-out manner, "Yeeaahhhh." So he called someone.

Am I the only one who senses something amiss? Helloooooo! She pushed them up to the counter by herself, didn't she? And we who shop regularly at The Devil's Playground certainly know that the cases of soda are found in the far back corner of the Playground. So she could push-pull both carts to the checkout, but not to her car? Methinks mesmells a rat. She was just taking advantage of young Chipper Checker. Shame, shame...we don't know your name. I shall call you Shameful Ratty Two-Carts. Low enough that you can't hear me, of course.

I really must stop letting my #2 son ride in the cart. He's big enough to climb over the side with no parental lifting. He takes up most of the room in the cart. And he's hard to steer. He's kind of like that redheaded kid in the basket being left on various porches in Problem Child. But it is WAY easier to shop with him like that. Today he took his book, Blood On The River, and barely looked up from the cart. Except to climb himself out to choose a new Nintendo DS game. He's a gamer...he's a reader...he's a loud, loud screamer...Sorry, I had a Steve Miller flashback to that 70s song, The Joker. I'll try not to let that happen again.

And speaking of The Joker, the Six Flags Joker had a bit of a malfunction yesterday on #1 son's educational field trip. Seems that 6 of his young cronies were TRAPPED on said Joker while it barrelled willy-nilly out of control. It would not stop. The operators could have pressed the button to undo their harnesses and let them out, except that HELLOOOO The Joker would not stop, so they would have fallen to their deaths. They were held hostage by the nefarious Joker for nigh on 10 minutes. Oh, and The Boss was broken right before #1's group got on it. Something about the brakes would lock and not let go. Which sounds like the opposite problem of The Joker. Anyhoo...#1 said, "I didn't want to go on it, Mom. I knew I was going to die." And I said, "So you waited for them until they got off?" But things are not so simple for the Hillbilly family. "No. I rode it. We had a rule that nobody could go anywhere unless they were with a group, and the minimum number of people in a group was two, and since everybody else wanted to ride it, I had to ride it, too."

I know there's more here. Something about my little #2 son reading Blood On The River. And playing a game on his computer right now that is probably not OK for a 9-year-old. I don't know what it is, but a couple minutes ago I heard, "...the severed head atop a pike...", and I shouted, "What?" And the kid replied, "That's why I hate the speakers." You see, what with the Vista-installation faux pas, his headphones do not work anymore. I don't think it's a bad game. It's one of the Civilizations, or something similar. It's not like it's Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

Don't call 1-800-BAD MOM. I do take care of him.
I push him around The Devil's Playground in a cart, by cracky!


Mean Teacher said...

Shameful Ratty Two Carts takes away all the helpers. I especially hate Wide Ass Electric Wheelchair Lady. First they let their asses get so wide that they have to drive the electric wheelchair cart, then they take up even more space than before with all their turning and backing up and being wide and what not.

Cazzie!!! said...

Sweet Jebus... I'd be hugging and whacking him at the same time, for surviving yet going on that ride!! The supermarket trolley sounds like a safer ride, even though the germs that inhabit the handles of a trolley could kill an Army of people at one time!! De-bug here I come.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Funny you should mention Wide A$$ Electric Wheelchair Lady. She blocked my path as I tried to get out of the bun aisle. I had nowhere to go. WAEWL let out a big huffy snort, and gassed that wheelchair. Or electrified it, or something. She muttered out the side of her mouth to a tween-age child, "We'll HAVE TO GO AROUND." Excuse me that a lot of people wanted buns on Sunday morning. What was I supposed to do, hurdle her?

Hillbilly Mom said...

That's what peer pressure will do to a kid. Make him ride a deathtrap. The other kid LOVES the Devil's Trolley. That boy's legs are going to become vestigial organs, I'm afraid.

Redneck. Diva. said...

I got stuck at the top of The Spider ride at the county fair once. We were at the the very tip top, facing the sky. We were all of 11 and screamed like we were being gutted or something. If something like that were to happen now, I'd take advantge of the quiet time and catch a nap.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Unless a little green tree frog hitched a ride with you.