Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Too Much Info

Things are afoot here at the Mansion tonight. And Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not like feet. It is a busy time of year. Somebody has asked my child to help out with a prom for special needs students by burning some CDs. I thought it was for the music. He thought it was to put in a gift basket. We are in a quandary. We do not want to violate any laws. We are not making any money. We are creating gifts. But we really need to find out which task we are committing to. It kind of needs to get done tonight. Thursday night, we must attend a 'fun night' at #1 son's school. He did not want to go until he learned that anybody who attends will earn an afternoon in the park. So we are required to have fun. Friday, he will be gone to Six Flags all day. So we need to get on the stick. Or off the stick. To get these thingies finished. I thought it would be, like, two CDs. He's thinking more like 50.

I am so glad I removed my tattoos before the students saw them yesterday. Just today, they were talking about a substitute. Even though he had no tattoos, the description was not flattering. Opinions varied. Two different classes brought up the subject. One class announced that they had a sub who looked like a turtle. They did not elaborate. Next cat out of the bag, the class after them mentioned 'the sub who looks like a fish'. "Well," I told them, "funny you should mention that, because apparently there's a turtle guy here, too." And they filled me in. "Oh, no, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. It's the same guy. I could see where they might say a turtle. He's got this little bitty head, and a long neck, and he kind of hangs his head down on the end of his neck. But the reason we say 'fish' is that he has this big ol' eyes, and his lips go like this." And a girl squished her lips together like a fish making that bubble-producing 'O' shape. Please, please, tell me that they don't describe me to any other teachers. Please.

Another kid told me that he's been having trouble with his colon, and that he has to take medicine and that stuff on commercials for old people. I was not clear on this, but didn't really pursue the subject, which did not stop him from elaborating, "Oh, yeah, there such a thing? Yeah, that's it. Prunes. And if I'm not better, they have to stick something up my butt. So you can bet that I'm going to get better, because nobody is sticking anything up my butt." With only one ear listening to him as I took roll, I said, "Well, I'm sure they will knock you out to do something like that." And he replied, "No way! That would be even worse, to be knocked out while they were sticking something up your butt. And on Friday, I have to drink this stuff that cleans you out." Never leaving well enough alone, I had to prolong the agony. "Why on Friday?" And he said, "In case it carries over to the next day." And all his cronies shouted, "We ain't doin' anything with YOU Friday night!"

Such is the daily life of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She doesn't really want to know these things. She just gets drawn in, trying to be all caring and sh*t.


Don't forget, the new stories are ready in Redneck Diva's writing contest. Go read them and put in a vote. You have until midnight, May 2, methinks.

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