Saturday, April 07, 2007

More Griping From HM

This post shall be neither here nor there. Well, physically, it's here, but it's not about any certain thingy, and I feel a ramble coming on, so we shall see where it takes us. Or, precisely, where it takes moi, since you are just along for the ride.

We went out to supper tonight. Actually, it was more like 'lupper', the meal my 12-year-old invented, when I don't want to make lunch or supper, and combine it. We thought perhaps we would get the half-price appetizers at a chicken-wingy thingy restaurant that tries to be like a small-town hick Hooters. In the past, we have saved a bundle by getting the half-price appetizers, with the #1 son and HH getting chicken fingers that come with about 7 large pieces for $3.50. They each get one. There is no sharing in the Hillbilly family. They each consume every morsel. Plus, HH gets fried mushrooms, telling me I can have 'a couple' if I want them. My new favorite is the Super Nachos, which are actually home-fried potato chips underneath the tomatoes and cheese and jalapenos and black olives and chicken. The #2 son alternates between the mini corn dogs and the cheese pizza on the kids menu. Don't be hatin' on our menu. It's not like we set out to have health food.

Anyhoo...HH drove his Mercedes (1986 ugly yellow clunker that has cooled its wheels in the barn for the last nine months after overheating on the trip back from HH's annual family reunion last July) since he would be stopping to get one of the boys a haircut on the way home. He and #1 got to the restaurant (and I use that term loosely) before #2 and I. We called them on the way and told HH to go ahead and order, since he was running about 10 minutes ahead of us. Upon arrival, we discovered that they no longer have the half-price appetizers, since "People were coming to eat them". Which is a bit preposterous, don't you think, because isn't that the purpose of a special, to get people into the restaurant to buy them? And let me tell you, when it was half-price time for the Hillbilly family, HH drank more overpriced beer, the boys played a buttload of video games, and the waitress got a bigger tip. This full-price thingy was not really an issue, since we still planned to eat there anyway.

As if all the talk of the not-half-priced appetizers was not enough for you to see how cheap Hillbilly Mom really is...we have coupons for haircuts. YES! From Great Clips. Cheap haircuts even cheaper! Hey! It's $5 off per haircut. And I have FOUR coupons! For those of you who are not Math teachers...that is a savings of $20, people! We didn't build this Mansion by being spendthrifts, you know! Alas, HH discovered that Great Clips closed at 5:00 tonight. He discovered it when he arrived there, coupon in hand, at 5:05. Never mind that HH had already been there at 9:00 a.m. today, while waiting to pick up some prescriptions across the street. Heaven forbid he would read the hours on the door while walking through them this morning. I'm sure the boys' hair will still be there on Monday. The coupons are good until May 31, which doesn't mean that I want to let their hair grow that long without a cutting. Boys in our school wear their hair shorter than the boys in the district where we live. They look like 1970s kids around here. We see them at the bowling alley, and can tell which school they belong to.

There was way more to this post, (I know, you're thinking isn't this enough?) but alas, our dear NEW BLOGGER has digested it in a sudden locking-up of my unstable stone-age system. This is all that was recovered. And I ain't a-goin' there again. I hate NEW FREAKIN' BLOGGER, and it's little b*tch GMAIL, too. They are at the root of all my crashes. Is it too much to ask that my 7-year-old computer and Windows ME operate without a major malfuntion for 90 stinkin' minutes? Apparently so. I am not extravagant. I do not dream of running MediaPlayer while typing a post. I shut down all non-essential windows. I exit GMail. Oh. I forgot. Now I must sign in through GMail to operate NEW FREAKIN' BLOGGER! Whoever told me how much I would hate it (all of you) and how it takes an extra 5 minutes to get signed in (one of you, perhaps Mrs. Coach, or DeadpanAnn) was definitely right. My son smirks at me every time I rant about such things. "You know, Mom, GMail is designed for XP. It supports ME, but not very well." Thanks. You pass the smartypants test.

I hate progress.

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