Encyclopedia Mom Has No Clue

President's Day is highly overrated as holidays go. Especially when
we have to go to school.

HH had the day off. That discombobulates me in the morning. He
didn't set his alarm, so I didn't have my extra 20 minutes of naptime
while he took a shower. I couldn't just get up later, because that
would throw off my goiter medicine schedule. Yeah. Goiter. My
life mimicks a Seinfeld episode each day, I tell you. Goiter. You
know...that football-sized growth on the side of my neck. Though
I didn't romance Mohandas. Anyhoo...after HH telling me that
he would set his alarm for 20 minutes, and then hearing him snore,
and then having him tell me the 20 minutes was up, after only 8
minutes...I arose to start the day.

HH is so needy. He wanted to be pampered. Not in a crazed-
astronaut-driving-from-Texas-to-Florida-with-a-knife-and-some-
rope-and-some-trash-bags kind of way, but in the stand-beside-
the-bed-and-hold-my-hand-and-adore-my-HHness kind of way.
That wasn't happenin'. I'm on a tight schedule every morning. The
extra 12 minutes had been taken up by finding a new lunch bag
for #2 son because his had mysteriously disappeared, and routing
#1 son out of bed because he lollygagged for 20 minutes after
being awoken, and getting a new shirt for #2 because he thought
he would be cold in a short-sleeve, even though he had a T-shirt
on under it and the forecast was for 56 degrees after weeks of
highs in the 20s.

When asked about his plans for the day, HH stated that he was
going to pick up my grandma's mail. Quite a feat when the Post
Office is closed, I pointed out. "Doh!" said HH, as he lay in bed
sporting his tighty whiteys, the only thing missing a Duff beer on
his belly. When I called home at 3:15, to ask what he was doing,
HH replied, "Laying here in the bed about to die. I have had a
fever off-and-on all day." Too bad, so sad. I informed him that
he wasn't the first man ever to catch a cold, and went on my
merry way, as I will do now, to something more interesting and
ALL ABOUT ME.

I must make a note to append my Encyclopedia of Common
Knowledge, because just this morning I learned that...

Scars Are Not Permanent. Neosporin removes them. That's
stupid to think that scars are permanent. Dude. It doesn't matter
that ranchers brand cattle. People aren't freakin' cattle. All you
have to do if you brand yourself with a hot metal thing like they
use on cows is put Neosporin on it and it will disappear. Duh.
And anyway, you can go to the hospital and they will burn off
the scar with lasers.

Dogs Can Eat Anything. Because they're dogs. But maybe not,
because after eating a whole oven mitt, that darn dog threw it up
all over the comforter and the bedspread. That was a surprise,
because there was nothing in it to hurt him. It was just an oven
mitt.

Jeans Are Girls' If They Have Buttons On The Back Pockets.
And that's kind of G*Y, you know, for a guy to wear them.
So what if they have 28 32 in the waistband? Girls can buy a
size like that. Or not. They may be guys', because my brother
has two pairs like that. Wait a minute! My brother has two
pairs, so maybe they are girls' jeans, because he's just a big
ol' girl and I tell him all the time.

A 30 Percent Discount Is Not A Good Deal Because It Makes
The Jacket Cost 3 Times More Than It Did Before The Discount.
So why would anyone want to buy it? It costs more. And then
when you figure that the tax is 7 percent, and you add that $7
to it, the jacket costs even more. So you should have bought it
before it went on sale.

OK, envy the life of Hillbilly Mom. Sometimes I wonder what
kind of mark I am making in this world. I try and I try, but I do
not seem to be effective some days. It's like taking an hour to
explain the space-time continuum to a group of what you have
been told are gifted students, and one of them raises her hand
and asks, "Where'd you get them big ol' teeth?" Not that some-
thing of that sort has ever happened to me, but you get my drift.

I must be a visionary, ahead of my time. Ya think?

Encyclopedia Of Common Knowledge

Years ago, SNL had a fake game show based on common
knowledge. Even though the contestants gave the correct answer,
they were wrong if it was not the 'common knowlege' answer.
According to the rules, Answers for Common Knowledge are
determined by a nationwide survey of 17-year-old high school
seniors. Example: the author of A Christmas Carol...Ebenezer
Scrooge. The author of Huckleberry Finn...Tom Sawyer. The
Louisiana Purchase was obtained from the country of...Louisiana.
The capital of Washington is...Washington, D.C.

Through my many years of working with students who love to
spout off their common knowledge, I am ready to write my own
reference book. Here are some exerpts. I shall call it:

Hillbilly Mom's Encyclopedia of Common Knowlege

Surviving A Car Crash. As long as you go limp, you will be fine.
That's why drunks are always OK in a car crash. If you wear
a seat belt, you can be trapped in the car and die. If you brace
yourself, you will break bones. As soon as you see there is going
to be a crash, go limp. You won't be injured. You may even be
thrown clear of the accident.

The Myth of Surface Tension. You can fall from any height and
be safe, as long as you land in water. Water is soft. You can
shoot into it, too. It's a bunch of bull that a bullet can riccochet
off the top of the water. People who actually hunt and know
how to use guns do it all the time. It's kind of funny that someone
would think the bullet can bounce off the water. Water is soft.

Holding in a Fart Will Kill You. If you have to fart, don't hold it
in. The gas will build up in your intestines and cause them to
explode, and then you will puff up and get an infection and die.
So always fart whenever you have the urge, or you will die.

Bullets Shot Into the Sky Are Exempt From Gravity. It is perfectly
OK to shoot your gun in the air on New Years Eve. The bullet
goes into the air. It won't fall on someone. And even if it did, it
is just falling, not being shot at them. Ha, ha. That's pretty funny
that someone would think a bullet could fall and kill them.

More Hair Grows Back If You Shave It. Don't shave your arms,
because more hair will grow back. You will have, like, a beard
on your arms. More hair will grow in its place. So leave your
arm hair alone. Same with your legs. It will look like a forest if
you shave it and it grows back.

Hate Words Can't Hurt People If They Don't Hear Them. It's
OK to say N*gg*r and J*w and M*x*c*n and G*y and F*g
around our town, because there aren't any of those people to
hear it. Like the classroom, for example. None of us are like
that, so who is it hurting? It's stupid that we can't talk like that.
But if some of them are around, don't say it, because there might
be trouble. Or you can say it, as long as you're not afraid of them.

Kids Are Expert Agents of Espionage. Only kids know what's
really going on. Adults are too stupid. They have never taken
drugs or been drunk or had sex or known anybody who breaks
the law. Adults are so stupid, it's a wonder they can live through
each day. If they only knew the things kids know...

The South Won the Civil War. That's why so many people like
to fly the Confederate Flag, and put it on their truck windows,
and on their caps. Why would anyone do that if they lost?

The Flu Shot Will Give You the Flu. Everybody who has ever
gotten a flu shot gets the flu from it. They will never get another
flu shot, that's for sure.

The Shocking Truth About Pearl Harbor. It's when the Chinese
bombed the Japanese at Pearl Harbor, Japan. That's what the
library book said, you know.

The Harry Potter Books Promote Devil-Worship. Nobody who
says this read them, and nobody in their family has read them, but
it's true because somone's mom saw it on TV.

The Blair Witch Project Was Based On a True Story. All kids
plan on going there to check it out when old enough to drive.
Where was it, anyway?

The Most Popular Vacation Destination Is Amsterdam. When
kids graduate, they're going there. (It doesn't matter that they are
in 11th grade and have 3 credits and need 24 to graduate, and
don't know what they're going to do for a living. Probably be an
underwater welder with the Navy, because those guys make a lot
of money. Of course they can afford to go to Amsterdam. Can
you show them where is it, exactly, on the map?) Adults are so
stupid they have never heard of what goes on in Amsterdam.
They have no idea why kids would want to go there. It's like,
the best kept secret ever, next to '4/20'.

Rules of Division. When the question says '2 divided by 100',
it means the 2 goes on the outside of that little house thingy, and
the 100 goes inside. The answer is '50'. That's easy.

The World Is The 10th Grade Boy's Oyster. He knows all there
is to know about life. The Hooter's girls love him, even though
he can barely afford a soda there, and has never heard of tipping.
He doesn't have a girlfriend, yet is an authority on sex because he
knows who John Holmes is. He does not have a driver's license,
but knows the best car, and how to take it apart and put it back
together. He already has a job lined up for when he graduates,
making $30 per hour. He really doesn't need school, but attends
because his mom wants him to graduate. His future wife will not
work, and he will never send his kids to daycare. The kids will be
geniuses, and they sure won't be going to this school. His wife will
be hot, like a model in those motorcycle magazines. In his spare
time, between trips to Amsterdam, he will have his own TV show,
like Bam Margera.

I will leave you to digest this serving of common knowledge. If it
stays down, there may be more feasts in the future.

HM Said Knowingly

This Much I Know For Sure...

That 40 mph wind today was colder than Hillbilly Mom's heart.

I will put things off until I can no longer get away with not doing
them.

When HH tells me 'the roads are clear', he means the roads after
I drive 1 mile of gravel road, and 2 miles of blacktop county road.

My kids will eat any kind of noodle, but not much else.

Ketchup is not a vegetable, even though the school lunch program
can count it as such.

People are naive if they think the work email is not monitored.
And if they drink Evian.

HH will find a new way to make one of the boys cry every week.

People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Or walk
around naked. Or tell people they live in a glass house, because
some pervert may come a-stalkin'.

A brand-spankin'-new rural mailbox will not remain untouched for
more than 7 days.

While people are away, their dogs have big 'come eat my dogfood
because my people will give me more tonight' parties.

When you tell a kid 'five minutes', he thinks that you mean
25 minutes.

All this time, HH thought Howard K. Stern was the same person
as Howard Stern, and today said, "He sure doesn't look like he
does on TV."


These Things I Wonder About...

Why does each weatherman give a different forecast? Don't they go
to weatherman school? Is there not a standard way of predicting the
future?

Why does the local license office have a popcorn machine? Is it
really a three-ring circus? Where do they keep those elephants?

When I go back to teaching Science next year, will I regain my
status and be an actual person, not the invisible woman?

Do people in H*ll really want ice water? Wouldn't they perhaps
prefer a stronger beverage, so they can forget that they're in, umm...
H*ll?

What IF your face froze like that? Would you go to a plastic
surgeon to try and correct it?

Does the President have to work on President's Day?

Where are all of my pencils, tape, pencil sharpeners, and rulers?

When an accident victim is examined in the ER, do the docs
and nurses say, "He should have listened to his Mom and put
on better underwear"?

Will I ever again think of something interesting to write about?

Letting The Cat Out Of The Bag

Here's some news. I can let it leak now, now that it's official.
I won't be a Lower Basementia dweller next year! WooHoo!
I won't be a traveler! I will put down roots, in my own climate-
controlled classroom, a mere 10 paces from the bathroom!
Sorry if I'm getting carried away, but this has been a long time
comin'. Six years, to be exact. It was six years ago I agreed
to give up the placid life of a core class teacher to become a
purveyor of common sense, and jack of all subjects. I was
asked to do it, and I answered the call. Now I have been
asked to resume my Science duties, and I will answer that call.
Although I'm not sure it's really a choice this time.

I don't care what I teach. I am reasonably intelligent. I can adapt.
My background is in Science, after all. I will still have one Math
class. But I will be in one building all day, people. Just like it
used to be. I will no longer be a hybrid, unable to put down my
roots, unable to connect with my compadres. I will have my old
lunch shift back, most likely. I will have one boss, one set of
meetings, one duty schedule, one gradebook, one plan book,
one classroom to decorate, one parking lot to find space in, one
set of keys, one building to attend for conferences, one fund to
donate money to, one way to report attendance, one set of
inventories, one set of requisitions, one desk to buy Puffs With
Aloe for, one set of pencils to loan and not get back, one check-
out procedure at the end of the year. ONE IS THE SWEETEST
NUMBER THAT I'LL EVER HEAR!

But I will miss some people from Basementia. And I will miss
being in the same building as my boy. And I will miss the hijinks
that occurs there. But the benefits far outweigh the deficits.

So what if my class load increases from the 54 I started with this
year to around...oh, I don't know...maybe 130? That is a high
estimate, I believe. But having taught Science at a middle school
with 180 7th-8th graders on my class roll, including all freakin'
10 Behavior Disorder kids in one section, nothing can scare me,
by cracky!

I am looking forward to the challenge. The kids have no idea.

**************************************************

And now, yesterday's news. There's one thing I forgot to tell you,
what with my very bad day.

Perhaps you've heard of the nationwide peanut butter recall? I see
that my blog buddy, Redneck Diva, has some of the tainted treat.
Only she has the name brand, people! I am in awe. I have the
poorer cousin, the Great Value instead of the Peter Pan. I blame
The Devil's Playground. I normally don't buy peanut butter there.
I normally buy it at Save-A-Lot. But I wanted to save-a-trip, and
I bought the peanut butter at the same store where I bought the
Granny Smiths. That's one thing I'll say for The Devil's Playground,
the produce is good. But I haven't bought any peanut butter since,
oh, probably last fall. I know it was before Christmas. I used to
have an apple and some peanut butter every night. Like a nightcap,
only it wasn't an alcoholic drink. So I didn't think anything of this
peanut butter witch hunt, except to put in the back of my mind,
"I might want to take a look at that peanut butter some time."

Last night, when I got home at 5:45, HH had set out a jar of peanut
butter on the cutting block. A big freakin' jar, 28 ounces. I saw the
code started with 2111. I took off the lid. It was half empty! I went
to tell HH, who, as I might have mentioned yesterday, was lying face
down in the big triangle bathtub. "Hey! We have the bad peanut
butter!" HH doesn't eat peanut butter. Only #2 son and I eat it. HH
reared his soaking head and said, "Yeah. You need to throw it out.
But don't give it to the dogs. It might make them sick." Okaaayyyy.

My mom has 4 jars of the stuff. Perhaps I've mentioned that she
likes to buy in bulk. And served me 4-year-old expired ranch
dressing at Thanksgiving one year. We are planning on getting a
refund. Just because.

HM Gives You A Quickie

Quickie. Not that kind. I am rushed. It has been a most dreadful
day, a day of which I do not have the time to detail the awfulness
that you so deserve a good description of. But I got in my sentence-
ending proposition, by cracky!

I knew it was going to be a bad day. My heart knew it, anyway,
because on the uneventful drive to work, the ol' ticker was doing
that jumpy, skippy, beating kind of thing. Like right before a
panic attack, if you've ever had one of those thingies, and you
get kind of shaky feeling. Or when you have just started taking
that demon Toprol XL, or whatever it is, that you have not
adjusted to yet.

Anyhoo...#1 son had to take out the trash this morning because he
forgot to take it to the end of the driveway last night. We're talkin'
a big green dumpster, people, down a 1/10 mile driveway. So he
did it this morning, in the 7 degree cold. Then he remembered he
had to take 10 cans of carrots to his 1st hour teacher to win a
pizza party from FCCLA, and he had to take a gift bag to his
Valentine, and he brought the wrong book home Monday for his
homework, but went back for the right one, but had that extra
book to haul around, plus the entry papers for his Science Fair
project that he didn't want to wrinkle. So when we got to
Basementia to drop him off, we had to wait for him to make a
second trip to the car.

#2 was dropped off uneventfully, clutching his kindergarten
Valentine box in a Wal*Mart bag, because he was too lazy to
make another one for 3rd grade. I got to my first building, and
promptly discovered 2 shiny new quarters behind my Large
SUV. Did I turn them in? H*LL NO! I thought, "It's OK. I'm
Even Steven." No, I'm not.

The graph paper I was needing was not the kind I had in my
cabinet, so I had to stroll to Mabel's end of the building and
mooch one from her. Then I saw that she had my birthday
gift, so I again thought, "It's OK. I'm Even Steven." No, I'm not.

First hour Mabel brought my gift and we had the gift-opening
festivity while my 10th grade boys rolled their eyes. More about
the awesome gift in another post, with photos. Then I helped
with a little biology, tried to graph my T Rex with the coordinates
I got off the internet, and filled out some ISS papers.

Then the turn for the worse began in earnest. I wrote up a kid
2nd hour. Only my second one all year. The first one in this
building. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom should not be provoked. Let's
just say that when you are told to sit down 3 times, but don't
stay seated, and are told to be quiet 3 times, but instead start
reading aloud from a library book of the 3rd grade reading
level, it's time to face the consequences. Pay the Piper. Bite
the bullet. Reap what you sow.

Third hour was uneventful as third hours go. I raced to Lower
Basementia to find that the bell did not ring. "Oh," I thought,
"Something is up. They must be ringing it manually again." No.
It was advisory day. The schedule was off by 20 minutes. I
could have gone to the bathroom! So I did. And again, I thought,
"I am Even Steven. I get 20 extra minutes today." No, I'm not.

At 2:30, I got a special message over the intercom: "You have
a meeting immediately after school at the other building." Umm...
what about my kids? What about my mother who's stopping by
Basementia with #2's birthday gift? What about the haircuts
we're getting after school because the $10 in coupons is not
good after Friday? What about the birthday cake we have to
pick up at 3:30? What about the fact that it takes 20 minutes
to get there, what with the difference in the clocks, and the
bus and pick-up traffic? Oh. That's MY problem. So I hastily
and against the rules took out my cell phone and called the
other principal, who said that yes, it was vital that I be at the
meeting, so I then called my mom and her POST-SURGERY
PINKY FINGER WITH A PIN IN IT to see if she would
come in and watch the kids so they didn't kill each other while
I was in the other building in a meeting. Then I imposed upon
my fellow mathie to watch the one remaining student I had
that hour (they're dropping like flies, I tell you), and then called
the office to get permission to leave 5 minutes before the bell
in Basementia, which was one minute AFTER the bell in the
other building, and was told go for it. So I went to the meeting.

Which lasted until 4:30, and was due to a big misunderstanding
in my opinion, but I can understand where the powers were
coming from, so anyhoo, we had a big ol' gabfest, and then
were released on our own recognizance, we troublemakers,
all 9 of us, to create havoc another day. Mabel, have I got a
story to tell you!

Upon taking back my spawn, we hit the road to McDonalds,
their fast-food Mecca, since it was bowling night for HH, and
waited in line 15 minutes for the not-so-fast-food, until I told
#1 I was going in to get my money back, but he whimpered,
"But we want the FOOD!" so pitifully that I sent him in to get
it, since they usually seem to set our order on the counter and
forget about it. That made us too late for my Sonic Cherry
Diet Coke, which made me quite the unhappy camper.

Next stop was the cake pick-up, because I was in no mood
for the haircuts at this late hour, and in the store I waited and
waited for a woman ordering slivers of sliced ham and sliced
turkey and sliced-whatever-you-got-in-that-case so this woman
who only wants to pick up her son's 9th birthday cake can
cool her heels a while longer.

When we reached the Mansion driveway, #1 son got out to
bring the dumpster back to the house. He pushed it through
a big puddle of slushy ice just to get his foot wet, and upon
parking it by the garage, climbed into the moving LSUV to
ride the 5 feet into the garage, and commented, "The dumpster
isn't all the way empty." That fool had pushed the unemptied
dumpster back to the garage. Sometimes, because the hill is
icy, the trash men wait a day to come up in here. The boy
said, "I thought it felt kind of heavy." Now he has to push it
back up there tomorrow morning.

Neither boy would help carry in the cake and stuff from school.
HH won't let me starve them into submission by refusing to
cook for them until they obey and contribute to the household
chores, so they really see no consequences to refusing. They
have learned from the master, as HH was laying face-down in
the large triangle tub in the master bathroom. Don't get your
hopes up. He was still breathing. So I went back out to carry
it in for myself, seeing as how no help appeared even remotely
on the horizon.

I warmed up some leftover chili for my supper, and cracked
open a can of Coke, the real thing, not the Sonic variety, and
both are waging a war with the lazy, lie-about, slacker epithelial
cells of my stomach lining. It has not been a pleasant day.

The icing on the cake was...well...the icing was fine, but when
we cut into the white cake that I ordered, it was chocolate.

Which I suppose is the imperfect end to the imperfect day.

Dear Hillbilly Mom

Since I was off today, I have too much time on my hands. Too
much time to think of things to do that are not folding laundry,
cleaning the kitchen, or working on the 1040.

Which means...it's time for some more hijinx with Hillbilly Mom's
keyword searches! Are some people just plain stupid? Why are
they looking for these things? Can't they write to Ann Landers
if they are too dumb to figure stuff out? Because apparently,
they can't, I shall be her proxy. I will provide them with answers
so they can get back to their messed-up lives. Here goes...

help i've got no panties...They sell them at The Devil's Playround.
You might know it as 'Wal*Mart'. If you don't have money, you
can stand out front with a can and collect some some.

gummi spanking pain...Why are you spanking gummis? They
have no nerve endings. At least I hope they don't, ever since
that student ate the Gummi Virgin Mary while I watched.

ingrown nostril...What's this? Is it a blowhole? I don't know what
an ingrown nostril would look like, but I'm betting it's not pretty.

vomit cleaning mink coat...Wow! This must be like the 'Roomba',
but with more class. Is it sold in the Neiman Marcus catalog?

backwoods hillbilly yards...Yeah, I bet these are OH SO
DIFFERENT from the urban hillbilly yards.

does roadkill spoil taste of venison...WHY are you adding roadkill
to your venison? They are two separate meals!

valium before vasectomy...Perhaps you should try the valium
after the vasectomy. Just sayin'...

mucinex claustrophobia...What? It doesn't like to stay in that little
bottle? Who knew? And how did they know?

hannah montana having her boobs sucked...That's kind of a
titillating subject to be searching for, don't you think?

sissy stirrup-pants...Sorry. I am only an authority on the masculine
stirrup pants.

yellow mucous one nostril...Is this your Indian (ahem..Native
American) name? Is your other nostril ingrown?

hog sayings...OK, here's a few. "Man, I was really makin' some
bacon last night!" "I ate too much. I feel like a fat hog." "Close
your mouth when you chew. You sound like a pig."

itchy hands and forearms cefzil...Don't try to market this. I think
you will find that the regular cefzil sells much better.

ishotmyself big blogspot beach party...This party doesn't sound
like much fun to me.

i fell pretty oh so pretty...Oh yeah? Well I don't care if you scored
a perfect 10.0, you still fell, you clumsy freak. Walk much? Have
a nice trip, see you next fall.

sissified husbands...What about them? Do you have one? Do you
want one? Do you mean in the 'Lyle the Effeminate Heterosexual'
way, or the 'he might be gay' way? I know--buy him some sissy
stirrup pants. That should make him happy.

why has two scavengers in a truck got any punctuation...Because
we live in a civilized world, you cretin, where people use proper
punctuation and grammar. Word of which has apparently not
reached you yet, in your big cardboard box under the railroad
trestle.

dry lungs dry unproductive cough spray paint...Again, people.
Do not try to market this product. The regular spray paint will
be a better seller. Trust me.

That's it for the advice column today. I know you are thirsty for
more, but that's how it goes here at the Mansion.

The Mansion In Winter

Happy snow day! We were a bit surprised, what with only rain
this morning until 9:55. We were up, we made a trip to town, we
thought the weathermen were wrong again...and then it started.
Five minutes of sleet, and then these GIGANTIC snowflakes.
They fell for about 20 minutes, then we had some flurries for a
few hours. It is slicker than snot out there. We are off again on
Wednesday.














Here are the huge flakes. As big as hamsters, I read on the
weather blog for Channel 2 in St. Louis. I have never seen
snowflakes so big in all my extensive years.















Here is the view from the kitchen door, off the back deck.
Watch your step! It's a 10-foot drop.















Here is the front yard. Behold the 5th-wheel camper in all its
glory. The poor lilac bush and the yucca are not faring so well
this winter.















Here's HH's pimp car. It's a 1980 Olds Toronado. Copper
colored, with spoke wheels. It was free from his boss, when
the boss's dad passed away. It runs and everything. HH drives
it every couple of weeks. My sister-the-mayor's-wife is the
one who named it the 'pimp car'. She said she would never
ride in it. That's OK. HH has never asked her.

When HH got home, he fired up the Scout and pulled the boys
around the field on their plastic toboggans. They crouched on
their knees, holding ropes to keep the front ends up, and waved
as he drove by the house. They looked like waterskiers. Except
they were on their knees on plastic toboggans, in a snowy field,
wearing camouflage coveralls and sock caps, being pulled by
a Scout. Otherwise, just like waterskiers.

I watched some ER this morning on TBS, then went out to gape
at the falling snow and pet the dogs, who thought the world was
ending, then washed a sinkful of dishes, then made a pot of chili,
then baked a birthday Oreo cake for #2 son's birthday on Thursday,
then made lunch for the boys, then made lunch for myself, then
retired to my computer for a while, then baked some corn muffins
to go with the chili, because HH says they go together, but I'd
never heard of it, then watched the beginning of White Chicks
with HH, even though we've both seen it, and I think I have it on
DVD, then started this post.

And now I'm done. It's MTV night at the Mansion. One of the
two nights I regularly watch TV. Make that three, now. Sunday,
Thursday, and the new MTV Tuesday night line-up.

I'm sure I should be doing something else, but I don't care.
Tomorrow is another snow day.

Not As Bad As We Thought We'd Be

All right. I'll give you the results of my team at Saturday's 37-team
Catholic Free-Beer Triva Night. A little bit later.

There was only one person on my team who I had played trivia
with before. How's that? TWO propositions to end a sentence!
And a questionable who/whom faux pas. I knew of all but one
team member. Which is not to say I run in their circles. We had
quite a time picking who was going to keep the official score sheet.
I did not want to, but was told to, so I filled out part of it. A Know-
It-All showed up after me, and I offered him the duty. He declined,
but I could tell he wanted to be in charge. I asked three more times,
and right before we started, he said, "Oh, okay. I'll do it." I could
tell he was itching to get his hands on it.

We were up and down throughout the night. With so many teams,
we were tied with 3 or 4 down in the middle of the pack. There
was a bonus round where we had the opportunity to earn 5 bonus
points for naming songs they had played during the break. It's not
that we were not observant, but that we did not know any of the
songs. We scored a big 0 on that bonus. Our nemesises, or our
nemesi, however you pluralize it, got ALL 5 FREAKIN' BONUS
POINTS! That put them 3 points ahead of us for a couple of
rounds. They were at the table right behind us, and kept tossing me
messages written on the green official Catholic Free-Beer Trivia
Night notepads.

I suppose they were trying to distract me. For example, one note
proclaimed that the writer had a 'friend' to keep her company on
those cold, lonely nights. She wrote, "I call him 'Big Ed'. To which
I replied that one time somebody gave me a 'Big Ed' for my
birthday, and after a year or so, I tossed him into a dumpster.
She sent a note back inquiring as to whether it was a green
dumpster, as that is where she found 'Big Ed'. I jotted down
that indeed, 'Big Ed' was laid to rest in a green dumpster, and
that I certainly hoped she had given him a bath. She ain't quite
right in the head, that gal, because she wrote back "Yes, if by
'a bath' you mean licking him clean." OK.

When our score was 59, she laughed her fool head off and called
me over to their table on a break. "I looked up and thought your
score was '69'," she hooted, as did her entire tableful of team.
So I went back to my own little table, and wrote a note saying,
"I don't understand. What does 69 mean?" And she replied on
paper, "It's what you showed me in that picture." So I had to
pen, "Oh, yes. That picture of you and Mrs. Patriotic Dobro
Player from down the hall." That kind of took them off their
game, and we closed in on their 3-point lead. Perhaps that free
Catholic beer had something to do with their relapse.

Get ready to answer without reading to the end if you want to play
along. The categories, and some questions we missed were:

Heroes & Villains:
What is the Spanish word for 'fox'?
Current Events:
What was the final score of the Super Bowl?
Christmas Trivia:
Why was 'The 12 Days of Christmas' originally written?
Logos:
Sorry, no question. We scored a perfect 10/10. Do you know
the logo for Lowry's Seasoned Salt?
Political Pets:
What pair of animals did Lewis & Clark bring President Jefferson?
TV Music:
What instrument provides the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher?
Dead or Alive:
I'll give you both that we missed, to make up for the Logos...
Robert Conrad. Anita Bryant.
Missouri State Parks:
Which park has the tallest waterfall?
Money:
What's the theme song for 'The Apprentice'?
Potpourri:
The capital of South Korea is Seoul. What does the word
'Seoul' mean in Korean?

We had predicted our score as 65, because the first round was
a bit difficult. In the end, the lowest we scored in any round was
6/10. We finished the evening with a grand total of 71 points.
Which was good enough for 6th Place! Which I think is pretty
darn good out of 37 teams, since we only got 6th in one Trivia
that only had 12 teams. We didn't win any monetary prize, but
a good time was had by all. Except maybe Mr. Know-It-All.

And now, the answers:

The Spanish word for fox is zorro. Not baca, which we said,
which appears to mean 'recovery from difficulty'.

The final score of the Super Bowl was 29-17. Not 31-17.
We really needed our young sports maven to be 21.

The 12 Days of Christmas was a catechism mnemonic for young
Catholics. Or WAS it? That's the answer they gave, but there is
some controversy over that info being an Urban Legend.

Lewis & Clark brought Jefferson two bear cubs. Mr. K-I-A
wanted that answer, but we hooted him down. "How could
they bring bear cubs back on such a long trip?" We answered
'prairie dogs'. Hey! They did send Jefferson a prairie dog!

Charlie Brown's teacher is a muted trombone. I knew that.
But I deferred to the two (not one, but two) band teachers
on our team, and went with the wrong answer of 'trumpet'.

Robert Conrad is dead, dead, dead, no more daring us to
knock that battery off his shoulder. And Anita Bryant is
still chugging that orange juice and persecuting homosexuals,
as far as I know.

Missouri's Tallest Waterfall is found in Taum Sauk State
Park, not Roaring Rivers.

The theme song for The Apprentice is 'For the Love of
Money' by the O'Jays. I watch it every week. I could sing
it for you. But I didn't know the name of it. It is not: Money
Money Money Money.

The word 'Seoul' means Capital City. Duh. I wanted to say
'Capital', but my team went with 'love'.

And there you have it. We beat our same-school opponents
by 3 points in the end.

Hee hee.

HM Can't Find The Catholics

And now, for something completely different. GOTCHA! It's
really just more of the same. Since the masses (Colleen, the one
and only reader who asked about it) are clamoring for the results
of the Trivia Contest, I will gladly give you an update.

To begin with, that goshdarn Catholic Church is a hard nut to
crack, by cracky! I arrived at 6:00, and went to where I thought
it would be, what with HH giving me the directions. Silly me!
I forgot the part about HH saying that place was the drunkest
he ever was. Methinks his alcohol-addled brain did not register
some important details. I knew where the Church itself was. I
pulled into the parking lot to see what developed. I knew by
the cars that this was not the Trivia crowd, it was the Mass crowd.
They left, and I did not see very many cars remaining. Only 3 cars
pulled in, and some Trivia-looking people got out with some
Wal-Mart bags, and went in. I could not see exactly where they
went in, because the giant white SUV with a local carpet company
logo parked right beside me with the engine running and a child
jumping in ever 45 seconds and slamming the door was blocking
my view. And the red SUV that pulled in behind it kept me from
backing out and cruising the neighborhood on my Trivia quest.

I called HH, and he kept yelling the exact same directions, as if
I was a foreigner, and repeating it louder would surely make me
understand. Turn left just past the drive-in restaurant, HH yelled,
and then park in the angled parking, and go in that door. Except
there was an abundance of angled parking, and it didn't look
like anyone was going in that door. Finally, the red SUV left, and
I backed out and drove around to the other side of the Church.

It was there that I hit the Church jackpot, because located on
that street was a Lutheran Church, and I suppose they were
having a Lutheran Mass or whatever the Lutherans call it, woohoo,
because now I have another religion to insult. There were cars all
up and down this block, and a parking lot that was nearly full, but
I managed to squeeze my Large SUV into a parking spot. From
there, I could read a building in front of me as saying it was some
such Lutheran outbuilding. So then I thought that I might have
invaded some Lutheran space, and they might have my LSUV
towed away when I came out, if indeed these other cars belonged
to Lutherans at their Mass thingy, and they all left while I was at
Trivia not drinking Catholic beer.

The longer I watched, the more uncertain I became. I was ready
to call it a night, and drive back home where there was no worry
of being caught in the crossfire of a Catholic-Lutheran Hatfield-
McCoy type feud. I called HH back, and he could not fathom
where I could possible be, even though I was just on the opposite
side from where he told me to go. HH kept telling me odd things
like "West" and "South" which meant absolutely nothing to me
because HELLO it was dark already, and I am not good with
directions except when I have the rising or setting sun as a
reference point. THEN I saw a few cars arrive and fill in the
remaining spots in the suspected Lutheran lot. OK. Old people
got out. Not people like me, who I see playing Trivia. Like an
old woman in a wheelchair. And a great-grandparent-looking
couple. So in further insulting the Catholics, I had to determine
whether these Catholics are a bunch of swingin' oldies who are
game for anything in their latter years, or if perhaps they just
age more rapidly, and were only my age after all. Oh, and these
people were carrying two or three trays of food apiece! So
then I figured it was probably just a Catholic Church social or
some such thingy, like a pot-luck dinner, or a wedding rehearsal
dinner, and if I went in, I would be crashing the party, and might
be chased out by a mob with flaming torches.

By now, it was about 6:40, so I decided I had to investigate.
As I crossed the street to a nondescript little building with a
light on, a woman stopped her SUV to wave me across. She
leaned out the window, "Is this the Catholic Church Trivia?"
I told her I didn't know, but I was going to find out. A young
man waiting out front assured me it WAS the Trivia. I went
in, found an open door, and walked into a gym filled with
about 300 people. I asked a lady near the door if she knew
where my team was, and she consulted a master chart, like
a blueprint for the atomic bomb. "Second row, third table.
There he is, waving at you," she said. Whew! That was a
relief! Only half of my team was there so far. But the rest
of the county seemed to have arrived.

Those Catholics sure know how to throw a Trivia Contest!
There were 37 freakin' teams, people! With 8 members on
each team. Great Googly Moogley! It was a busy, busy place.
Words can not describe it. But that hasn't stopped me yet.
I saw my boys' doctor, in a bright blue Hawaiian shirt, drinking
a bottle of beer, and hugging another professional-looking dude
in a Jamaican kind of Rastafarian striped knit hat with fake
dreadlocks attached, in an 'I love ya, man!" way like those old
beer commercials. His wife the doctor was not there. I guess
she had to stay home with the kids, if they have any, or else she
might have been outside fending off the Lutherans who were no
doubt beating our cars to smithereens in their parking lot.

I saw a woman in a bass hat. Which was like a khaki-colored
cap with the head of a bass sticking out the front, and the
tail sticking out the back. People had coolers, and bottles of
wine, and mixers, and every kind of alcohol you could imagine,
and were also getting free styrofoam cups of beer from the
Catholics in charge. The din of happy drinking people was nye
to deafening. Each table had eight folding chairs and eight green
notepads and eight green pencils (is green the designated color
for Catholic Beer-Serving Trivia Contests?) and answer sheets
and envelopes to enter names for door prizes, and popcorn and
pretzels and a table number. We were 26.

Our team had snacks that we brought: Chex Mix, chocolate chip
cookies, and a cheese/sausage/cracker tray. Though I will say,
5 members did not bring anything. But that is another story. I will
have to continue tomorrow.

Fished in! Thought you were going to hear the score tonight, didn't
you? Please remember...there were 37 teams. Tune in tomorrow
for some questions, some hijinks, some b*tchin', and the score.

Please. Join Colleen in reading this trivial tale. You know what they
say: 'Misery loves company.'

Turkey Valentine Birthday Beer

It's now or never. I just returned from the boys' bowling league,
and will depart shortly for Trivia. There's not much of interest to
talk about. We found some large turkey feathers by Tank's
holding pen. I will be glad when that little dog is old enough
to take care of himself, so we can let him run free. I don't
think he got ahold of the turkey. I think the neighbor probably
shot one, and the doggie Ann carried it's carcass to our yard,
and taunted Tank with it from outside the cage. There are two
more big piles of feathers in the front yard. Oh, and in case
you are not a redneck...it's not turkey season.

We made a trip to The Devil's Playground this morning to buy
some Valentines. Oh, we forgot the Valentines, but bought some
candy hearts, and a fluffy white bear for #1 son's girlfriend. She
will be thrilled. It doesn't take much to please a 6th grade
girlfriend. I'm still betting he won't dance with her at the Sweet-
heart dance, though.

Now we have to make a freakin' Valentine's box. I hate those
things. #1 son used to go all out. He made one like a computer
one year. #2 wants ME to make a simple one. He likes stickers
and stamps all over his. I tried to trick him into a red plastic
bucket thingy that was only a dollar at The Devil's Playground,
but he slapped it out of my hand and said, "NO!" Great Googley
Moogley--it's not like I was asking him to take the PINK one
with hearts all over it.

I persuaded #2 son to forego the birthday party this year. It is
Thursday, and it always sneaks up on us. Instead of renting
somewhere and having a party where only 3-4 kids show up,
I've told him how I'd rather spend the money on him instead
of a party. He agreed. I think he wants a game for his Wii,
and we are making the hour trip to Chuck E. Cheese tomorrow
to celebrate ahead of time. I know Redneck Diva hates Chuck E.
She hasn't been to the one on South Lindbergh. It's not bad. I
might get kicked out one of these days for shoving kids out of
the way to play that quarter-pushing machine. I love that thing.

We ran into my mom at The Devil's Playground. Rather, she
almost ran into us, with a cart. I suppose you can't steer too
well with a post-surgery-wrapped pinky finger. She looked
good. Even her hand looked better. She gets the bandage off
Tuesday. I hope she doesn't find that the doctor transplanted
somebody's big toe to her hand.

Also in The Devil's Playground, we saw one of #1 son's old
teachers, who left our district a while back. She had a case
of Hamm's beer on the bottom of her cart. I take this to mean
she is still teaching somewhere. Speaking of demon alcohol in
The Devil's Playground...my mom asked if I was going to Trivia
alone. I thought, "How sweet. She's wondering if I want her to
go and keep me company." Nope. She added, "In case you
need one of those...what do you call them...designated drivers?"
Ahem. I do not drink. #1 son added fuel to the conflagration
when he blurted accusingly, "And I've noticed that there is an
O'Doul's missing from that six-pack in the pantry." I was
shocked that the two of them are ready to stage an intervention
and send me packing to Betty Ford. "Umm...O'Doul's is a
nonalcoholic beer, honey." This didn't phase him. "I know.
That's why I'm sure Dad wasn't the one to drink it." Perhaps
I'd better re-think that law school dream I have for this boy.
For somebody who hasn't had a drink in more than a decade,
I sure get the suspicions from my loved ones. Except for HH.
He is always advising me to have a drink. Ulterior motives.

That's about it. I'm off to play Trivia and not drink some
Catholic beer. Honest. I wouldn't lie about something like that.

I fear the lightning strike.

The One Where HM Offends The Catholics, The Baptists, And The Mathematically Challenged

Ho hum. I didn't make the top 20 finalists in the Design-Your-
Own Lottery Ticket Contest. All it cost me was a piece of paper,
an envelope, and a stamp. It was cheaper than buying a lottery
ticket, actually. Don't worry, I'm not depressed.

I'm Even Steven, you know. I showed up for my 4th hour class
and found out they were having an incentive hour. WooHoo! A
free 50 minutes for moi!

Tomorrow night, I am playing in another Trivia Contest. One of
my new team members asked me. So what if I was the last one
he asked? He said I was the 'Queen of Trivia'. I will follow him
anywhere. Even to a neighboring town's Catholic Church. That
is where the Trivia is being held. Not in the church itself, I think,
but in the wild party lounge next to it. Or whatever they call
those thingies. I am not much on religion. Have I told you that?
But I know they are selling beer at this Trivia, so we can not
have our ringer, our sports genius, because he is not 21. That
tender baby-faced sports maven can not play. I'm waiting for
my Even Steven bonus to appear.

Like I said, I don't know much about religion, being raised as
a Baptist. A First Baptist. My parents didn't go to church. My
grandparents took me. I learned enough to know a slim bit of
Bible trivia. At least I'm not as dumb as Bart Simpson when
he spent the night with the Flanders, and played Bible Trivial
Pursuit with Rod and Todd. I'm thinking he didn't know who
'Jesus' was. Anyhoo...I know that the First Baptists would
not have sold beer at a Trivia Contest. HH says the drunkest
he ever got was at this church where the Trivia is being held.
At his wedding, I think. Oh, not his wedding to me! Oh my,
no! Ours was at a United Methodist Church. It burned down.
I refuse to take responsibility. Though I did tell #1 son that I
could possibly be struck by lightning when I walk into the
Catholic Church. I mean 'party central' annex. Goodness.
Am I done insulting a religion yet? Sorry, Mabel. I plead
ignorance.

Mabel gave me a birthday card today. It is musical. It plays
'Shake Your Groove Thing' when you open it. On the front,
it says "As long as you can shake it without breakin' it..." open:
"you're nowhere close to old." Heh heh. Mabel is the Thelma
to my Louise. Which means that I am not riding anywhere with
her in a convertible. Not even if she promises to pick up Brad Pitt
as a hitchhiker. Thanks, Mabes. I'll be shakin' it at the Catholic
Church disco tomorrow night. Gosh! Maybe they'll offer some
type of gambling, too! Sorry. I'm ignorant.

In my free 50 minutes today, I took an online practice Praxis
test. That's a test for teacher knowledge in the subject area. It
wasn't a real Praxis. It was on some free website that wanted
to sell me Praxis practice materials. Say that 10 times fast. I
command you. Then switch to New Blogger. And cluck like
a chicken. You are feeling verrry sleepy. When I clap my hands,
you will awake and not remember any of this. But every time
you hear 'Shake Your Groove Thing', you will lay an egg.

What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. The test thingy. I took an
Algebra test, and got 19 out of 20 right. That's 95%. Then I took
an Advanced Algebra, and only got 10 out of 14. Only 71%. So
what? I bet I did better than you guys would have--Mabel not
included. See, I have a problem, and about 5 questions on this
test were it. "Sally can build a house in 4 days. Dave can build a
house in 2 days. Quinn can build a house in 6 days. If they all
work together, how long will it take to build a house?" Hmpf!
I know that if they work for a day, that overachieving Dave will
have built half the house already. And Sally will have built 1/4 of
a house. And Quinn, that layabout slacker, will have built 1/6 of
a house. So we have 11/12 of it completed already. But my
choices were too close to pick the most reasonable answer.
Aren't you glad I'm teaching Math to kids that aren't yours?

I used to always have trouble with unit multipliers, but after 3
years of asking Mabel, I learned 'em right good. Now all I have
trouble with is slope. I remember that I have to rise before I can
run, Mabel, but thank the Gummi Mary I haven't had any kids
in Algebra I for a couple of years. And I don't think any of my
kids this year are getting that far in Algebra A or B. My mind is
a terrible thing to waste.

Actually, my mind is just a terrible thing.

But I am still Queen of Trivia. I might make myself a crown.
I cooked up a plan where I walk into this big Catholic Church
Beer Bust/Trivia thingy, and sit down with the opponents from
our school. As they look at me oddly, I will say, "Didn't So-
and-So tell you they invited me to play on your team?" As they
look at each other over my head, in a panic, I will add, "And
at the break, I will bring in my clarinet and play 'America The
Beautiful' for you while I sing it, too. I am kind of a clarinet-
playing ventriloquist."

That should shake 'em up enough to gain us 5 points, methinks.

Benjamins For Jack

Did I mention that I put HH on a cash diet? I am weaning him
away from the debit card because he was not responsible.
Hiding receipts for two weeks, then writing a stack of them
in the checkbook was starting to PISS ME OFF. So I gave
him cash. I asked how much he needed per week, and then
gave him that plus $20.

I did the same for myself, which has worked out so far, but
it's only Thursday night, and I still have Friday to go, with the
royal sum of $3 left. Hey! That's enough for a Sonic Cherry
Diet Coke! And the allowance starts again on Friday evening,
heh heh. I would have done better, but I had to pay for my
driver's license renewal this week, which set me back $20.
And I had to fork over $12 to HH because he whined about
picking up $12 of Chinese food last night.

That goshdarn HH! Isn't a man supposed to support his family?
Why am I footing the bill for supper? Can he not pay a portion
of it? Oh, and HH does not have to drag two sucking bottomless
pits of buymebuymebuyme young 'uns with him everywhere he
goes. So I don't think I did too bad on my budget.

I am thinking of installing a LoJack on my youngest son. That
boy is never where he's supposed to be. Monday, there was
the heartstopping 'didn't get off the bus here' faux pas. An hour
later, my aunt called me in my STAY-AFTER-THE-FACULTY-
MEETING CONFERENCE WITH MY PRINCIPAL to ask
if I wanted her to drive him from Basementia to my building. I
told her yes. I found him 20 minutes later. I asked if Auntie had
dropped him off at the front door. "Uh huh." I usually park in
the back. He said he thought I had already left, but he went
and sat in my room to see if I was going to come get him. But
yesterday, a teacher in Lower Basementia, on the other side of
the library from me, said, "I could just keep your little #2 son.
That boy is so sweet! When I drove him over there Monday,
he was as cute as could be." WHAT? He didn't tell me she
drove him. I thought my aunt drove him. I guess that boy would
go with anybody. Not that I have any objection to this teacher
bringing him. She is on my 100% trust list. But that boy should
have told me.

Today was the little dude's Book Club after school. I asked him
about it all week. The school reminded the kids yesterday. This
morning we talked about it all the way to school. But at 3:13,
there he was in Lower Basementia, saying, "I forgot about my
Book Club." I had to drive him back over there so he could at
least attend half the meeting.

I want a fancy LoJack. One with a remote control that can
administer a small shock when the boy is not in the expected
location. He's gotta learn somehow.

Anybody got some spare change to donate to the LoJack Fund?

Big Britches

What is the matter with kids these days? I swear, they are getting
too big for their britches. Even those baggy, saggy britches that
they want to wear to act...umm...minorityish, while trying to get
away with mumbling racial slurs to their buddies. Some of these
kids just ain't right in the head. Now don't take this to mean I
don't like them. I do like them. But they have no concept of how
things are in the REAL world. A world where you are not treated
like a valued endangered species.

I have way too many examples to try my case in the court of
Blogger. So I will just limit it to what I heard today.

A kid came in with a big ol' lip-piercing thingy in his bottom lip.
A little birdie told me (actually, it was a little 8th grader) that
this very kid had pierced his lip with a safety pin on her bus
yesterday morning. They thought he was freaky. So today,
he shows up with this piece of hardware, acting all cock-of-
the-walk, whatever that means, but it suits my purpose because
ONE of those words certainly describes his behavior. I asked
him if he was trying to look like that kidnapped-returned boy
who has been in the news lately, whose name I do not want to
use to draw people to this blog because he has had enough
trouble in his young life, and people should just lay off and leave
him alone. The lip kid said, "Noo!" like I was out of line for
making that comparison when HELLO none of these kids wore
that kind of thing or even thought of it until this kid was on the
news.

Another kid chimed in that "I HATE that kid. If I ever see him,
I will beat him to a pulp. I think he ran away, and he LIKED
what that guy did to him, and that's why he stayed and never
told anyone or tried to run away, even though that guy was
at work all the time." So I asked him how he knew so much
about the case, and he said, "Well, I know what I would have
done." I told him none of us know what we would have done
unless it happened to us. He said, "I would have run away."
So I asked how he would know at 11 years old how to get
back home, and what if the police didn't believe his story
and took him back, and his kidnapper was really mad and
decided to kill him instead of taking a chance on getting
caught. And this kid said, "I would have let him kill me. At
least I would have died in peace knowing he never touched
me." I also asked him if he didn't think that kid could have
found a better way to run away than to ride his bike down
a country road and wait for a stranger to kidnap him. Did
he mean that letting a stranger throw him and his bike into
a truck was running away? So he said, "Well, if somebody
came along and offered me a ride, I'd go. If it was just for
the ride, because it might be fun. But if they said they were
kidnapping me, I don't think I'd go." Keep in mind this is from
a kid who was sent to alternative school before we had been
in school a month for telling the principal he could take his
m-f-ing school and shove it up his m-f-ing a$$$ because he
felt he should be able to get up and do what he wanted in the
afterschool program for Fers. According to his friends, anyway.
He went on to tell me that rules are stupid, like wearing a helmet
to ride a motorcycle, or having to be a certain age to drive
or drink. I wonder if he likes the laws that keep adults from
beating the crap out of him.

Another example: I came into my classroom when the bell
rang and found a 9th grader SITTING IN MY CHAIR. If
you have read my little blog very long, you know that is a
federal offense in the land of Hillmomba. I told him to get up
out of my chair and NEVER, EVER, sit in it again. And he
said, "I was only reading the announcements." Like it was
his right to sit there. I gave him the lecture about respecting
people's things, especially the things of one in authority such
as I believe myself to be. He nodded his head sullenly, and
mumbled something to his cousin under his breath, which
was OK by me, because it is an improvement on his tantrum-
throwing behavior earlier in the year when I told him to redo
his paper like the instructions told him to do it, so he crumpled
it and tossed it in the wastebasket and took a victory lap around
the room in a fit of peevishness, but returned to dig the paper
out of the trash and fix it when I told him it was good evidence
to attach to his discipline referral slip. As long as these little
testosterone-charged whippersnappers back down and don't
aim their mini-meltdowns at me, I have won. In a large class,
I would not tolerate it, but in my little group, we are a family
of the most disfunctional type.

Even another example: I explained how to find the range of
a set of numbers in my 9th grade Math class. It is not hard,
as Mabel would attest, IF she had a blog and could prove
that she is not imaginary. Don't forget that the students had
this in the 7th grade and the 8th grade as well. When I gave
out the assignment, they did not know how to do it. I asked
why they didn't ask questions when I gave the example. I
figured they understood it, and I was NOT going over it
again. "But I WAS listening! I just wasn't paying attention."
Too bad. You snooze, you lose. Then one of the non-paying
attentioners asked to go to the library to check out a book.
I don't think so.

"No."
"Why not?"
"Because this is a Math class. You give me a hard time every
day, not paying attention, then wanting to come to my desk
to try and get the answer worked out for you. I do not have
to let you go to the library, and I am not going to."
"Where is ThatGuyWhoSitsOverThere?"
"Oh, he's in the library. I let him go work in his report for his
Civics class. Because he listens to me and is polite."

Heh, heh. I wanted to add that I am not required to be fair,
but I figured that is the kind of statement that would get me
held after a faculty meeting, so I didn't.

Just so we're not beating up on the boys too much, and to be
FAIR, I'll give you an example from the female persuasion.
As they left class yesterday, an 8th grader said that she had
met someone at a party she went to with her grandpa. As
they filed out of the room, another one said, "Eww! Who goes
to a party with their GRANDPA!" Today, they got to talking
about it again.

"I didn't have a choice. I was staying with him, and he went.
It was just to the VFW."
"Did you dress up?"
"NO! It wasn't a date or anything! I just wore jeans and a T-shirt."
"What did he wear?"
"A tuxedo."
"Man! Weren't you out of place?"
"No. Everyone else there was dressed like me. So-and-So was
wearing a flannel shirt and jeans."
"Who's So-and-So?"
"Grandpa's girlfriend."
"Did you dance with anyone?"
"No! They were all old."

Which brings us to the final examples of the day. My kids wrote
a personal experience paragraph. On wrote about the time she
and her family were riding bicycles, and she rode too close to
the basketball goal and knocked herself unconscious for five
minutes. Another wrote about the time he and his dad drove
around after a snowstorm and pulled people out of ditches.
According to him, "It was as cold as a lice box."

I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Hillbilly Mom Goes To Meetin'

Changes are afoot, as AlexandriaLeigh once told her readers.
Silly me. I was afraid something was wrong with her foot. Thank
the Gummi Mary her dainty hooves were just fine. I can not yet
tell you about my changes. NO! It's not the 'change of life'! I
know StewedHamm would pop off with something of that sort
if I didn't beat him to it. No, I will have to make you stew in your
own juices with suspense.

What I can tell you is that I am eagerly awaiting Friday to find
out if I am one of the 20 finalists in the Design Your Own Lottery
Ticket contest with molottery.com. I have some slim hope.
Perhaps a lot of artistic people did not want to go to all that
trouble of designing a ticket and sending it in. Perhaps the ones
who have no life (like me) are not artistic. You never know. As
with the lottery: you can't win if you don't play. The prize is
$200 worth of scratch-off tickets if you make the top 20. I'm
not holding my breath, though.

In other news, we had a faculty meeting today at the building
which is not Basementia. I had instructed my youngest boy to
"Get off the bus at the first building." Did he do it? Would
there be any point to this story if he had? #1 son and I rushed
from Basementia to the meeting. #2 was nowhere to be seen.
He is supposed to sit in my doorway. I rushed on to the meeting
(which they always start without me, go figure, they must not
have gotten the memo that IT'S ALL ABOUT ME). I tossed
#1 the keys to get the phone from the car and call Basementia
to see if #2 arrived there and was unattended. Turns out he
was, but that's tough, little dude, you shoulda listened to your
mama, so sit tight until the meeting is over and we can retrieve
you from Basementia.

Oh, but there's more. The meeting lasted about 30 minutes.
We learned that we're getting a new gradebook system next
year that can be accessed from home (WooHoo!), and that
we should be really, really, really, emphasizing MAP-style
assignments right now in the homestretch toward the March 27
test date, and that we should have filled out our online 'school
climate' surveys for both buildings if we're travelers, and that
there will be school on President's Day, and that club meeting
day and advisory day have changed from Wednesday to
Thursday this week, and that there will be no afterschool
program for Fers this week, and that Progress Report grades
should be updated by 10:00 a.m. Monday (no exceptions),
and that we may be attending school instead of having parent
conferences on March 16, and that there are people coming
to evaluate the school on March 13 14 15, so be on your
best behavior (not so much said as implied), and that there
will be a special meeting of Math and Science teachers on
Tuesday and Wednesday.

That's most of it, but like I said, they started without me, so
I might be missing the most important link, or perhaps they were
just planning a big surprise birthday party for me, but that seems
unlikely since nobody there really likes me except Mabel, and
she had bus duty and got there even later than me, and by the
way, THANKS AGAIN, Mabel, for making sure my boy got
off the bus like he was supposed to, don't you know you are his
keeper on faculty meeting days, because I'm sure I implied that
every other meeting day, but I must have been just too subtle, so
don't worry, I will still buy cookie dough from your fundraiser
even though I refused the magazines this year because they were
so messed up last year, what with taking TOO long to arrive
when all I did was renew them, but thank the Gummi Mary,
Mabel, that we looooves us some fundraiser cookie dough
up in this Mansion.

Just when I breathed a sigh of relieve that the meeting was over,
(much like y'all and that last sentence), and I could fetch my little
8-year-old from big ol' drafty, scary Basementia...the principal
called my name to keep me after the meeting. WHAT? I ran
down my mental checklist of things I shouldn't have done, things
I should have done but didn't, things I said and who might have
narced on me and who would appear more credible (me or them),
and things I have done but couldn't possibly be found out for. It
was a short list. Because generally I'm a good egg, and when I'm
not, I'm very, very, careful about leaving no trail. Right, Mabel?

Whew! It was just for a talking-to about some changes. Not
about anything I have done or not done or said or been caught
at. Including ending sentences with prepositions because I am
currently teaching English and prepositons are not good for
English teachers to end sentences with. I know DeadpanAnn
knows what I'm talkin' about. As for the things we discussed,
I am ambivalent. If you don't know what that means, it pays to
increase your word power, people.

More later as this story develops.

Masters Of Trivia

We are the champions, we are the champions...of the TRIVIA!

Yes, we finally won one. Mabel, let this be a lesson to you. Plus,
we had Chex Mix. It was still good. Nobody kicked the bucket
after consuming it. Our secret weapon pulled this one out. He
earned us 8 (count 'em: eight!) points in the Sports category.
Without this former student, we would have only gotten 2. Oh,
and I redeemed myself from costing us the tying and winning
points last time, because this time I knew that a black-and-white
horse is a piebald. Not a pinto. Not a palomino. Great Googley
Moogley! Have these people never read National Velvet? The
Pie was the star of that story, and that's what he was: a piebald.

Let me fill you in on some of the questions. Some of the ones
that our team missed. No fair googling for the answers. We did
not have that luxury. They will appear at the end, so if you want to
play along, stop reading until you have your answers. I will give
you one from each category. Out of the 100 questions, we won
with a score of 63. That's nothing to brag about, except that
WE WON!!!!

Television: Where did the Jetsons live?
Music: What was the name of Buddy Holly's backup singers?
Sports: How long is the Indianapolis Speedway?
Caricatures: Can't draw it. Could you tell the difference between
Bob Hope and Kelsey Grammer in a creepy drawing? So here's
a bonus History question: Which First Lady was known as the
'Steel Magnolia'?
History: What did Michael Jackson say in his vows to Lisa Marie
Presley instead of "I do" ?
Movies: How many James Bond movies were released during
the writer's lifetime?
Animals: What is the name for a fox's tail?
People: Who said, "Houston, we have a problem" ?
Sound Alikes: Use the sounds of these words to make a common
phrase--'near, though, float.' (may or may not be in proper order)
Miscellaneous: What word can be used to represent an island,
a sweater, and a potato?

We had some issues. The grader graded ours wrong one round.
She forgot to count the age of John Kennedy's assassin within
two years. The right answer was 24. We said 27. Mr. H went
up and told them to take off a point. We don't need to cheat
to win, heh heh. Our main opponents went crybabying up to
complain about their score. I know they got an extra point one
time. The other time didn't work. A 'mandrill' is a monkey. They
answered 'primate' and wanted it counted right. I beg to differ.
Are humans not also classified as primates? Anyhoo, they didn't
get the point. We didn't either. We said it was a bird.

And now, for the correct answers to your little Trivia quiz...
1. Orbit City (se said Sprocket City)
2. The Crickets (we said The Flextones)
3. 2.5 miles (we said 1.5 miles)
4. Rosalynn Carter (I knew, but was voted down in favor of
Eleanor Roosevelt, who was neither steel, nor a flowering tree)
5. "Why not?" (we said "I will")
6. 2 (we said 3)
7. A brush (we said whip)
8. John Glenn (we said Gus Grissom)
9. Ear, Nose, Throat (we said Row Your Boat)
10. Jersey (we disagree, as we've never heard of a jersey potato)

Did you score higher than 63%? Could you have beaten us?

It was an enjoyable evening, though I don't think the 2nd place
team appreciated our stomping and chanting "We Will Rock You",
OR our rendition of "We Are The Champions". Perhaps they are
just not big Queen fans. It is the midwest, after all. We have also
requested that the Band teacher (who sponsored this contest as
a fundraiser) have the winners announced over the intercom at
Basementia every hour all week. I told my Math teacher buddy
that I will frame our answer sheet and hang it on the wall between
our rooms, with a note that a CHAMPION Trivia teamer works
in my room. She said, "And I will RIP IT DOWN!"

I'd better make several.

Gambling: It's Not Just For Derelicts Anymore

Subtitled: The Even Steven Family Goes To The Casino.

The evening started with a trip to Pizza Hut on the way to the city.
That way we could miss rush hour traffic. And have some tasty
pizza. They had a special on a large pan pizza of any kind. $10.
After the waiter took the order, a waitress brought out some
breadsticks. HH and I looked at each other. The kids were
playing Galaga or some such video game. We did not order
any breadsticks. HH told the waiter, "These aren't ours." He
replied, "They are now. It's going to take a while for the pizza."
OK. Free breadsticks.

Upon arrival at Harrah's, we spent 25 minutes circling the
parking garage, stalking pedestrians. We finally got a spot
from a woman and a baby. What the baby was doing at the
casino, I don't know. We checked in. HH took off to gamble.
#2 son ordered the interactive games on the TV for $10 for
a two-hour session. That was at 7:45. At 8:00, he said it
wouldn't work. #1 son, maven of all things electronic, tested
the remote and pronounced it to be not working. It worked
for the channels, but not for the power, or the menu, which
you had to be in to get the games. I told him to call the front
desk. They put him on hold. I was talking to my mom about
her FAT RED PINKY FINGER on the cell phone. At 8:10,
I asked #1 what was going on. "Oh, I'm on hold. She said
she'd check on it and call me back." I told him to hang up
and call back. This time, the minute a guy answere the phone,
he said, "Can you hold, please?" and put #1 on hold again.
At 8:25, I told him to quit holding and call back. The guy
said, "Oh. I'm in the back now. I can check on it." #1 told
him that he'd already been on hold for 25 minutes, and that
his little brother had ordered 2 hours of games that he was
only able to play for 15 minutes. They guy asked him to
hold on. #1 said no, to call him back when it was fixed.
That boy is kinda handy sometimes. Anyhoo...the desk
guy called back at 8:30 and said he reset it. Yep. To play,
you had to order it again. I called HH and told him the issue,
and that he'd better complain tomorrow if they charged for
two 2-hour session, one starting at 7:45, and one starting
at 8:30. He's good at b*tching. Even better than me.

HH returned to the room, and I left for the night. Well, until
2:15 a.m. I was breaking even until around midnight. Then
things went downhill to the tune of $40. I told myself, "I'll
think about it tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day." I also
vowed that I would never go hungry again, but it didn't have
much dramatic impact, what with no technicolor sunset or
bunch of moldy carrots.

#2 son was coughing up a lung, so I gave him some Tylenol
and put him back to bed. HH snored to wake the dead. He
looked like Homer Simpson in the light of the partially-closed
bathroom door. I finally fell asleep from 3:30 to 5:30, then
snuck in another hour of ZZZZZZs for good measure. We
all arose by 7:30 to go to breakfast, which is a tale in itself.

We walked up to the counter to pay for the buffet, and the
foreignish woman said, "That is $63." Myself, I would have
said, "The H*LL you say!" and told her we didn't want it.
HH paid. She explained, "It is the champagne brunch." Hmm..
We found some food and sat down. For a place that opened
at 7:30, they didn't have much of the stuff laid out. HH told
the #2 son: "You're going to EAT!" We knew #1 would fill
some plates. So...a half hour went by. HH was fuming. "I
don't see anybody drinking champagne. But they sure can
charge for it." I explained that at Ameristar, they had Mimosas,
in tall stemmed glasses. He looked all around. He asked the
waitress. "Oh, we can't serve it until 8:00." It was now 8:10.
We were burnin' gambling time. HH told her he wanted some.

I went to stand in line at the waffle maker. #1 watched the
waffle maker leave her post to carve a giant ham haunch.
"Eewww, Mom. How can people eat that? They're cooking
it under the heat lamp. It's steaming!" Perhaps we should
take the children out more. He went back to the table. When
I got there, HH had two glasses of champagne. I use the term
loosely, glasses. They were those plastic thingies that people
use and throw away on New Year's Eve. One was already
empty. In the next 20 minutes, HH had 6 glasses. #1 son
said, "I like how he does it, Mom. He tells her, 'Yes, we'd
like some more,' then he chugs one and puts the empty glass
in front of your plate." That's my HH.

#2 son kept using the paper napkins to blow his nose. He had
a small collection of them on the table against the wall. The
waitress came and took his plate. #1 said, "Did you see her
give his Kleenex pile the evil eye?" I told him, "For the price
your dad paid for this breakfast, I don't care if he squats in
the middle of the floor and takes a poop." Which is perhaps
not the classiest thing to say, but I made my point. HH was
fuming about how the boys had to pay the same price. I know
that a casino is not expected to have a kids' menu, but that
does seem silly, to charge the same price for children who will
not be drinking champagne. Though HH tried to get #1 to
try it. "The reason I don't smoke, boy, is because some guys
made me smoke a whole cigar when I was a kid. I was green
for THREE days!" I suppose he meant for #1 never to drink,
but methinks there might have been a spot of trouble if he
was observed force-feeding champagne to a child. I've heard
that there might even be cameras in those casino places!
I told him not to be ridiculous, that all he had to do was tell
the staff that he wanted his boys' champagne that they paid
for but didn't get to drink. In a to-go cup. Or even a couple
of bottles. I'm surprised he didn't try it.

My morning session was more productive. I should have
stopped after the first 30 minutes, when I was $90 ahead.
But noooo. I didn't heed my own advice. I didn't want to
stop so soon, what with all the trouble we went though for
this outing. I finished $30 ahead, but with last night's losses,
that left me $10 under. Even so, I had a good time. And
the desk clerk took off BOTH game session charges from
our bill, after HH complained. What with that, the discounted
room, and the free breadsticks last night, we were able to
absorb the cost of the breakfast. And a couple bottles of
champagne. It added up to a weekend of Even Stevenly fun.

The End. (I'm off to Trivia)
Hillbilly Mom, living life in the fast lane.

Hillbilly Mom's Night Out

In a couple of hours we will be headed for the casino. WooHoo!
The bag is packed, the snacks are stowed away, the electronic
games are charged, and all we are waiting on is HH.

We ventured to town this morning to get money, Nasonex, gas,
a birth certificate, and AAA batteries. Everything you need for
a casino trip. OK, the birth certificate wasn't necessary. I only
need it to renew my driver's license next week. Darn, I hate that.
It seems like only six years ago that I renewed it. That's because
it was. Missouri ain't right in the head.

Or IS it? Because to get a birth certificate, I had to go to the
County Health Center and pay $15. Yep. A hospital birth
certificate isn't good enough. Missouri has to have one with
the raised, embossed seal of--you guessed it--THE STATE
OF MISSOURI. I don't know what it costs to actually renew
the license, but you can bet the license office will add their fee
into it, too. It's highway robbery, I tell you. And Missouri has
some of the worst highways and bridges in the country. What
are they doing with all this money? Great Googley Moogley!
Do you know how many lottery tickets I could have bought
with that $15? Oh, yeah. The state runs the lottery, too. With
the proceeds allegedly going to education. Heh, heh. I only
gamble to pay my paycheck.

My sister just called to report that my mom is out of surgery.
She has a pin in the end of her FAT RED PINKY FINGER.
She has a brown bandage on it that can't be removed for
10 days. She gets the pin out in 6 weeks. The doctor said
he scraped down to the bone, and that he did not think there
was any infection. He thinks the arthritis was causing the
finger to bend over at the end joint. Hmpf! I suppose arthritis
goes away with antibiotic treatment, and comes back within
two days, getting fatter and redder and spreading up the
finger to the hand and wrist. Who knew? That demon arthritis
must be a tricky feller. Anyhoo...the doctor said he's going to
culture the bone scrapings and see if there's an infection, and
if so, they will know what anitbiotic will knock it out.

My sister-the-mayor's-wife told the mayor, "Surely if I can
get her there and home from the surgery, Hillbilly Mom can
stay with her tonight." To which our mom replied, "Oh, she's
going to the casino!" I don't know what the mayor had to say.
I don't feel bad. I am the one who took her to the ER when
I first saw the FAT RED PINKY FINGER. I am the one
who checked on it every day, and made her go back to the
doctor, and back again, and told her not to settle for the
osteopath who wanted to hack it off within a week of seeing
it. And I don't think she needs anyone to stay with her. She
is very independent. The doctor even said she could drive
if the pain med didn't make her woozy. I figure she will sit
down in her recliner, prop up that pinky, and snooze to the
TV all night. That's what she usually does. It's not like she
had a leg cut off or anything. I asked her before I made the
reservation if she thought she would need me after she got
home, and she said, "No. I'll be fine." She was probably
hoping I wouldn't bring my devil spawn out there to spend
the night, like in the ice storm!

Anyhoo...HH is on the way home. That's all for tonight.
And tomorrow is TRIVIA NIGHT!

FINALLY!

Snow.Day.

WooHoo! We finally got one! There goes President's Day!

I don't think the road is too impassible for me to get out, but I
did skip my Sonic Cherry Diet Coke today. The boys played
outside for about 90 minutes this morning. They let the little
Beagle puppy, Tank, out of his pen. He stuck his nose under
the snow and rooted around. He tried to play with Genius,
the big orange-striped cat. That did not go over well with
Genius. One swat was all it took, and from then on the "You
must be crazy" look was all that was needed to keep Tank
away from him.

There was a moment of panic when a big fat rabbit ran behind
the Mansion and plopped himself on a snowy knoll. The big
dogs and a neighbor dog were on its trail, but they're kind
of like the DoNots of the dog world. We heard Grizzly, who
is at least half-Beagle, over by the barn, baying at something.
Then we heard doggy Ann's yip-yippy bark, and the neighbor
dog's deep bark. When they came rushing through the woods,
Mr. Hippity-Hopper took off. Grizzly was at least on the
trail, running in circles until he narrowed in on where it had
been sitting, then widening out in circles to look for it. The
other two dummies crashed willy-nilly through the underbrush,
and happened to spot it. Tank saw Grizzly and ran for him.
I hollered from the back porch to #1 son to drop the shovel
he was using to build a berm at the bottom of the slide. I
told him to get that dog or else we would never see him
again. HH has taken off his collar, and the backwoods
over-the-creek neighbors would get their hands on Tank
and think, "Hey! Free Beagle puppy!" Poor #1 took off.
He had a bit more trouble moving through the brush than
those dogs. Then they circled around, and he would think
he had Tank, who would then shoot out of his grasp like
a greased pig at a rodeo. After about 10 minutes he caught
the little rascal and carried him back. He passed Tank off
to #2 son, who carried him back to the pen, and once inside,
dropped him from shoulder height. Good thing he's not that
tall. Poor Tank hit the ground with a 'woof' and rolled over
and over on his chubby belly. No wonder the pets avoid
#2. That boy ain't right. We had a little talk about how to
take care of the animals. He ducked his head and said,
"Sorry." I told him you can't really say 'sorry' to a puppy,
and Tank could have been hurt, and how would he like
to be dropped to the ground from my shoulder. I think
I saw him wipe a tear away with his glove as he walked
off. Some lessons are hard to learn.

The next business of the day was to sort through all my casino
offers and chose the ones that apply for tomorrow and
Saturday. Then I packed my gambling purse with HH's
and my Total Rewards Card. And the Ameristar card, but
we're not very loyal to them, we only use them for their game
room and restaurants.

Then I made hot chocolate for the boys, and washed up
three loads of laundry. I tried for two hours to balance the
checkbook, but that was a total waste of time. I used to have
it down to the penny every month. That was in the days before
that demon debit card. HH did much better with an allowance.
Now he whips out that debit card like player's card at a casino.
The problem is that he collects the receipts in his billfold until
he's good and ready to write down the amounts. So...two
weeks after he's purchased gas and dogfood and a pen for
the new puppy and some knick-knack at the antique store...
it shows up in the checkbook. With numbers that are OH SO
AMBIGUOUS. Is it a 4 or a 9? Is it a 1 or a 3? Your guess
is as good as mine, sight unseen. Tonight I told him we are
going cold turkey. He will get an allowance. If he forces me,
I will wrest that debit card out of his grease-stained hands.
Same for me, though. I will pay cash at The Devil's Playground
like I used to. It will be much easier to balance the checkbook.

Snow. Day. The Sequel. Heh, heh. I just got my call. Too
bad HH is a workin' man. We could have taken off early
for the casino tomorrow. I'm sure if I called, Harrah's would
send a short bus for me. They don't know I'm Even Steven
these days. I suppose they have as much hope of taking my
money as I have of taking theirs.

The boys are ready for the excursion. #1 son plans to take
his laptop and use some wireless internet. #2 son has packed
a little silver game case with his GameBoy and DS. It has some
elastic thingies inside to hold games. He looks like he's carrying
a little briefcase. They are both looking forward to some games
on the interactive TV thingy. They even SHARED last time. It
is $10 for a two-hour session. That works out to $2.50 per boy
per hour. I'm a math teacher, you know. And as such, I know
the value of a cheap babysitter. We don't leave them alone in
the room, though. We take turns. Once they (and HH) go to
sleep, I can play as long as I want.

My mom is having her Fat Red Pinky Finger operated on around
2:00 tomorrow. She has to get there by 1:00, the surgery will
take about 30 minutes, and then she has to wait about 30 minutes
in recovery. My sister is taking her. Send some calming thoughts
her way. She is a bit hyped up about it. At least they are not
cutting it off. I told her she'd most likely get some good drugs.
Of course, she's the kind who will suffer and save them for a
time when she 'might really need them.' Which never comes.

I hope nobody drops a Junior Mint into her while the doctor
is operating.