Saturday, May 05, 2007

You Can Confide In Mrs. Hillbilly Mom

I must be a good confidante. People want to tell me things. I know this, because when I check my statcounter, there are all kinds of information that people have used in a search to find me. ME! It really IS all about me! Here are a few things they want me to know. Sometimes, I'm like that Johnny guy in the Stephen King book. The guy who knows what people are thinking when he touches them. I didn't like that book much. That's what he gets for touching people. Keep your doggone hands to yourself, Johnny. That's what I always say. But then, I have that teacher thing goin' on.

texas fines for teepeeing houses. Hmm...what are you saying? I don't teepee. Just because other people have come to Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's advice column asking 'how to teepee', that doesn't exactly make me a criminal. And I've never even been to Texas. I certainly don't plan to go now. What kind of a racket is that, fining people for teepeeing. It must be like a speed trap. Texas has a teepee trap, Texas has a teepee trap. Sounds like a good way to taunt those lone stars. Chant that in a sing-songy voice. Or make it into a tongue-twister and say it 10 times, fast. And what's this about the 'houses'? Does Texas not fine for teepeeing mobile homes, or trees, or cows after you tip them, or that pesky mother-in-law? Sounds like the ACLU oughta come down on Texas.

elbow wenus high in nutrients. Good to know. But a 'wenus' does not sound very appetizing. And not just any wenus, mind you, but the elusive elbow wenus. It reminds me of a snipe, of hunting fame.

all you gotta do is cry. OK. But all I wanna do is graduate from high school, move to Europe, marry Christian Slater, and die. Oops! That's not what I want. It's what Kristy Swanson wanted, when she was the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in the campy movie that was a hoot, not the series that took itself OH SO SERIOUSLY, (back in the day, before she had that little b*st*rd with Lloyd-the-skating-guy, when they hooked up for Skating With The Stars), right before she punched Donald Sutherland in the nose.

theres a little change in my pocket going jing aling aling. You don't have to brag. If you do a cartwheel, you're gonna lose that change, buddy. You need an old-lady coin purse. My mom has one, with pink and white beads embroidered on it. My son cried for it, but I wouldn't let him have it. Hey! He had a blue leather purse. It was not a good accessory.

the window was left open to let the fart out. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And then what happened? Did somebody come in the window and rob you? Did it rain and ruin your carpeting? Did your parakeet fly away? Did Tom peep? Did the cat get out and you blamed George Costanza?

beauty is in the eye of he beholder. Well, this one of those trick thingies, like 'put the the cat out' or something, where you have to find the error? Because if it isn't, it seems a bit sexist. HE beholder, indeed! It's a man's world, huh? Is that the message you're trying to get across? Don't make me call those ACLU people on their way to Texas.

stop whacking in my camper beavis and butthead. Excuse me. I am not Beavis, nor am I Butthead. And I certainly wouldn't be whacking in YOUR camper, when I have my own camper right in the front yard.

trace adkins lost part of his left pinky finger in an industrial accident. I suppose that's better than having your FAT RED PINKY FINGER amputated 4 days after you are given that diagnosis and told to render your decision by Friday, but worse than seeing a specialist and having the bone scraped and having a pin in it for 6 weeks. And who are you, the Trace Adkins pity party organizer?

but she grew up tall and she. WHAT? Grew up mean? Did her daddy name her Sue? Did she become a model? Did people ask her 'How's the weather up there?' or if she played basketball? Did customers in The Devil's Playground ask her to get things off the top shelf? Did she whack her head on the ceiling of the camper when Beavis and Butthead invited her over? WHAT? Don't leave me hangin'!

iam checking the flights , put labels , sealing and sing. Aren't you a busy little beaver? Stop whacking...Sorry. Beaver. Not Beavis. Perhaps you should pencil in some time for some tense grammar, and present-participle yourself to sleep.

That's all you need to know. I don't want to let too many cats out of the bag. Then I would be a mediocre confidante. Or a world-champion cat-setter-free-er.


Redneck. Diva. said...


It disturbs me the amount of traffic you get from your weenuses.

Hillbilly Mom said...

I think it is some kind of unmentionable sissy male part. It disturbs me when my school kids ask me what it is. I plan on breaking the news to them on the next snipe hunt.