Block, Punch…..What’s That Smell?

My daughters have gone exercise crazy. Seriously. From the standard YMCA fitness machines to the latest craze, Zumba, they have embraced it all with more zealous than Sean Penn has for Hugo Chavez.

And, of course, they want to drag me along. So far, I have managed to resist (mostly by hiding in the closet or not answering my telephone when they call). It’s not that I don’t want to be fit. I do! I really do! And, when they find me a class that offers HD TV and Ding Dong breaks, I’m totally in and ready to squat/jump/shake my booty/etc. Until then, my plan is to stick with the Sit and Be Fit Class on PBS. SABF is the only enjoyable exercise routine that I have found so far. It takes only a few minutes and I can participate while sitting on my butt on my overstuffed couch with my Diet Coke, cigs, and Kroger’s Red Velvet cake on a nearby table.

It’s not that I have never joined a group of  obese overly enthusiastic  people women with good intentions of dropping that last ten pounds of baby weight (OK….what if my youngest child is of voting and drinking age?) and fit into a pair of sleek, tight Baby Phat (haha..I made a pun) jeans. I have done my share of jumping jacks, rolling on off around on an exercise ball, and yoga stretches. I use to be one hellova hot and fit mama. These days, though, I’m fairly satisfied to be a luke-warm earth mother. And, who wants an earth mother whose ribs stab ya when you lay your head on their bosom for comfort? I mean…COME ON!…it’s my turn to be the fat-but-jolly friend/sister/mother/neighbor/etc. I’ve served my time in front of  86 lb instructors with long blonde hair held in place by a fashionable sweatband and names like Rain or JuJu.

TrailerParkSkipper has joined a kick-boxing class and keeps urging me to join her. Hmmm….NO!

I’ve actually taken kickboxing classes. Brutal. Inhumane. And, stinky. Never in my entire life have I experienced so  many gassy women. Yes, you read that right. Gassy as in farting. There has to be something about hitting a bag with all your might and then instantaneously turning 180 degrees to kick the same bag that releases foul hiney odor. Whatever the cause, it manifested itself while doing the kick-boxing stretch warm-ups and cool-downs, too.

I remember, vividly, my first class. I went with TrailerParkMidge who was just starting junior high. We took our places on the floor. I looked to the left of me and saw a woman who looked very much like Paris Hilton. I turned to the right and lo and behold, there was a Kate Moss look-a-like. I wondered how long they had been in the class and how much time it would take me to resemble them. Actually,to be real about it, I wondered how many kick s and punches it would take me to look like a much larger version of them.

Those bitches! Skinny and lithe! With their sleek black leotards, pink sweat shorts, and oh-so-carefully- applied hint of pink lip gloss.  I hated them. I loathed them….until they started FARTING! 

“poooooot” “pfsssst” “fffffftttttt”

OMG….Kate and Paris were regular pootie-tooties!

At that minute, I felt happier than I had in a long time. With every turn-and-kick, “Paris” made pootie sounds. And, “Kate” was emitting the kind of sounds that 10 year old boys make blowing on their arms during detention to amuse their fellow detainees. Week after week, the Farting Duet made kickboxing bearable for me. They both smelled like rotten poultry and I may have been sweating like a ho’ in church but at least, I was not gassing everyone around me. I think it was their diet of bean sprouts and carrot juice that turned their butts into a heavenly choir of poots and toots.

“rooty-toot-toot”

One week, the bulimic butt singers didn’t show up for class. Then, the next week, they were absent, too. I inquired about their absence and the instructor told me that neither had renewed their kickboxing fees. So, I quit, too.

Hmmm…..maybe, I’ll have TPSkipper check for squealy participants in her class. If she reports that there are some in attendance, I might just join! Afterall, I do still have my gloves.

Check It Out Checkerouters! I’m Interviewed!!!!

First, I want to statethat I’m copying Greg Gutfield of  Red Eye  by using the nonword, checkerouters. Just want to give credit where credit is do. If you have the humor level of a high school aged boy (and I do), you must check out Red Eye. The shows comes on very, very late (one in the morning) but you can watch most of it on the Red Eye  website.

Recently, I was given a great opportunity of being interviewed by The Vinyl Villager.  VV has a really great blog with lots of funny stories about his life. He, also, writes about things in the news and makes some of the funniest comments that I have ever read. I’ve known VV for a long time but this does not make me partial to his blog. If his blog sucked, I’d just privately read it and never mention it to y’all. He is sarcastically witty. Best of all, he makes just as much fun of himself as he does anyone/anything else. Ya gotta love someone who does that.

So, after reading this post, y’all get your lil’ fannies on over to the Vinyl Village and start you day with a good laugh.

I’m gonna give a shout-out to one more blog……Mad Haiku.  This guy is funny in a really off-the-wall way. Check out his Moby Dick in Haiku. That’s some funny stuff.

OK…I was honored to be chosen by Vinyl Village to do an interview with him. If you would like to be interviewed by VV, go check out his blog post on interviews and leave him a comment.

Here’s my interview:

1.. Whenever bad weather is coming, people run out to get milk and  bread. What do you make sure to stock up on if you know you’ll be stuck at home for a few days?

I just gots to have me some of them Little Debbie cakes and Diet Coke! Almost as important is toilet paper and coffee. But, truthfully, I’m not one to run to the grocery store at the first mention of snow. Our weather people on the local news only get it right about 25% of the time. So, I just stick my head out the window. If it’s snowing, I’m not too worried. Living in the boogerwoods for years has required an SUV to get around. So, I’m pretty much ready to go when I feel the need or desire.
In the worse case scenario and I couldn’t get out, I’d just pull out one of our many guns and hunt me down some of the critters that wander around here. In the event that I couldn’t find any critters, I’d hop on hubby’s big-ass John Deere tractor and head out to WalMart. I would still be toting my guns to fend off people who might try to grab from  me that last box of Devil Dongs.

2. Since you’ve known the Vinyl Villager since God was a boy, tell everyone some of your funniest or most embarassing stories on him.

I could tell a funny or embarrassing one. However, many of them would involve his Mama and he tells those stories much better than I ever could. So, I’ll leave writing about them (like the turkey that she left in her car truck and it rotted)  to him. But, my favorite story is when The Vinyl Villager   first learned to read. He was 3-4 years old and his Mama was bragging about how he had started reading big words and big-people books. I have to admit that I was a little skeptical….not that he could read but that he could read all the stuff that she said he could.  My lil’ TrailerParkSkipper is only 4 days younger than VV. And, no braggin’, just fact’, she was sharp as a tack. But, there was no way in Oompaloompa Land that she could read words with more than two syllables.  So, I was a tad unbelieving but…then, I heard something that darn near brought me to my knees in surprise. That little rascal had picked up a BIBLE and was reading it as well as Billy Graham!  Waaaay  better than Rev. “G-damn America” Wright. So, being the skeptic that I am, I thought that maybe he had just memorized a verse (which come to think of it is pretty darn genius for a kid that age). What was I suppose to think? Sheesh, most of the kids on my side of the family were still stumbling around with “Billy Eats Beets”. And, they were old enough to drive themselves to school!
In all seriousness. VV was one of the smartest and best behaved child that I’ve ever known. Now, years later, I’m not so sure that I could say that. Just go read his blog and you’ll see what I mean.
PS…VV…I was gonna say “smartest and best behaved children” in our entire family. But, frankly, you didn’t have a lot of competition when I think about all the bratty, annoying heathen children that were in our family. Not gonna mention any names but there were two who lived near you.  We’ll just call them “Moey” and “Thad“. I’m sure you know who I’m talking about….the one’s whose mother had an imaginary psych degree.
 

3. If you could change any ONE thing about yourself–mental, physical, etc. what would it be?

Ouch! That’s a hard choice. I don’t think that I could choose between those two. So, I’ll take “FINANCIAL” for $500, Alec! I’d be a rich woman who gave $20 bills to strangers. My mental deficiencies are pretty much equal to my physical deficiencies so I’d be hard pressed to pick one of those.
 
4. How did you get started blogging and what is your favorite thing about doing it?

There are several reasons.
I started blogging because I’m a crazy lady that lives in the boogerwoods. It was either blog or collect cats. And, I didn’t want to be known as The Crazy Cat Lady Who Lives In The Woods.  It’s much more desirable to be known as  The Crazy Lady Who Lives In the Boogerwoods and Never Gets Off Of Her Computer.

I, also, thought that I might attract the attention of Danny Bonaduce or Gary Busey. I would love to have them comment on my blog. Both are Crazy (with a captial C) but, very interesting. It would be dabomb to have Busey comment something crazy but profound.  Unfortunately, my original plan of sticking one or both names into every post that I wrote just didn’t work. I mean….how the hell can I mention of  them when writing one of my poontange posts? Or, my stinky belly button posts?  I’ve learned a lot about myself by blogging. I’ve discovered that my poontang and stinky belly button are more important and interesting to me that Gary or Danny. Sorry, guys.

PS….Maybe, I will tag this post with Busey and Bonaduce and they’ll comment!

 
To be serious (yuck), I’ve written stories and poems since I was in Jr. High. I like writing. I actually won a couple of awards in high school. But, the blog was really for me to write all kinds of crap about my family without them knowing it. I intended for it to be a place that I could express anger, disappointed, sadness, and …..HaHa…I crack me up! Actually, I just wanted ATTENTION and the assurance that there just might be other people out there with lives as crazy and dysfunctional as mine.
 
5. Which of the following would you find most embarrassing to have happen to you in public, and which have you actually done: 1. a loud, smelly expulsion of gas. 2. an accidental nipple flash, 3. an accidental cootchie flash, 4. being with someone else who did one of the above.
 
1.  Loud explosion of gas….Done it…..yes, it was embarrassing. The most awful thing about it was that I was on a first date with a guy. He was haaawt and I think that the happiness of being on a date with him just made me explode.

It was, also, our last date.
 
2.Nipple…. Done it but only to my doctor. Not so embarrassing so it probably doesn’t count.
 
3.Cootchie flash….close. Once I was getting ready for a bath. TPKen had just left. The doorbell rang and I thought it was him because he was always  forgetting something. He would  leave his keys in his car and pound on the door.  I wrapped a not so large towel around myself and went to the door. Not TPKen. It was the guy who lived across the road. I just acted like I walked around like that all of the time and pretty much remained calm. But, he immediately looked at my feet, told me that he was looking for TPKen and promptly left.
 
4.Yes,….TPMidge is a master of farting, belching, flashing, and all sorts of other things. TPSkipper tends to be more ladylike in the gassy dept. in public as well as with the belching. But, that girl will “moon” ya in a New York minute. Heathens!  Those two have broken up the boring mile-after-mile driving of many a trucker.
 
5. (I added one) Puking in public….Yes, waaaay more times that I care to admit to. I think puking in public is far worse than farting or belching in public. You can blame a fart or a burp on somebody else. But, face it, there’s no way to blame that puddle of vomit on another person since it was seen coming out of you.

So, that’s my interview.

Thanks for the questions, VV.

Jobs???!!!!!!!

I know! I know! Everybody, including myself, is sick of all the election hooplah and crap. But, I got this in my email and it seriously reminds me of a lot of people around here.  I don’t know what it’s like in y’alls neck of the boogerwoods, but J-O-B-S is an ugly 4 letter word in the vocabulary of generational welfare families in these parts. Then, maybe, they are the smart ones (not!). Free health care, free dental care, clothing vouchers, food stamps, Thanksgiving/Chirstmas free dinners and food baskets, Shop With A Cop, Toys for Tots, Head Start perks for parents, and so on and so on and……

Hmmmm…..looking at all that written in black and white makes me rethink working and being self-effecient. I wonder where do I sign up?

 

 

In other news…..I came across a blog today that is written by two senior ladies who have been friends for 60 years. It’s very opionated and I don’t agree with everything that they write. But, I have added it to my blogroll because I admire the feistiness and gusto used in writing the blog. I’ve added it to my blogroll….Margaret and Helen.

Let’s see….hmmm…what else do I want to write about?

Oh….Vinyl Villager is competing with another blog on BlogExplosion. Go vote for him! He’s da bombdiggity!

And, Dear Allison, another really great blogger gave me an award which I really do appreciate. Here’s where I admit that I am a stooge when it comes to putting stuff in my side-bar. I really wanted to dispaly it and Vinyl V has offered to help me. I’m gonna take him up on it just as soon as I get some extra time. For now, I’ll just show it right here to y’all……

Go check out her blog. She’s great!!!! She writes about stuff that hits close to home for me.

I’ve really been busy lately and have been neglecting my blogging buddies. So, here’s a shout out to Big Hair Envy,  Moonbeam McQueen, Note To Self, saltedlithium, Girl From the Ghetto, and The Incredible Woody. These are not all of my buddies but frankly, I’m getting tired and it’s time to curl up on the couch in front of the television. If I have not listed you, friend, don’t worry. I promise to list you next time.

Were it not for the people that I’ve mentioned, I probably would have quit blogging by now. They do not realize (and I’ve never taken the time to tell them until now) how much encouragement they are to me. Their comments are funny, interesting, and informative. I am always pleasantly surprised to find my faithful blogging friends have commented on my posts. Even when I think the post is pretty much a piece of crap.

Here is where I was going to post a pic of a group hug but hold-the-phone-Hilda!!!!! I found something much better…….Group Hug.

From Group Hug……..

“Today I’m stopping smoking weed, for a while. It’s fucking with my head, and my voice sounds weird.

Stuff gets better without weed. If only I could get a girlfriend…”

” fell in love with my boyfriend because he didn’t treat me like a slut like all the other guys did. Sometimes, though, I wish he’d f*ck me like I was one.”

“does little happy dance”…..Guys, y’all gotta go check this out. It’s a gold mine of material for posts!

“I fart in my office whenever I want. I’m the boss. Don’t like it? Bring some air freshener. “

“Your a sick human being. Better be careful cause you might get a booger in your coffee. “

“to my coworker to finds thirty to be “old” and “scary”, f*ck you and the tricycle you rode in on. thirty’s coming for you too, bitch.”

One last thing. Then, it’s couchiepoo time.

To the chicks and Dan at Bipolar Chicks Blogging. You guys are the smartest, funniest, and most caring people that I have ever known….online or real time. I am not ignoring you. Truthfully, I’m retreating into “funny world”, where things are not allowed to get too serious. Dan, I have answered your email 4 times. Couldn’t hit the “send” button, though. All 4 times, I hit delete. I wasn’t lying when I told y’all that I cannot handle expressions of concern very well. It’s not something that I am use to. Please forgive me for you are a wonderful man and a great friend to all of us. Seriously.

Redneck Dating Advice For Men…

Scenario…..you just met Suzyette at your cousin’s wedding. She is hot and you ask her out. You have some great ideas for the first date. But, wait…..if these places are on your go-to date list, mark them off.

1. To watch you play basketball/baseball/hockey/football with fat Chuck from the sales department, hairy Larry from the service department, and your unemployed best friend. Girls do not enjoy this. They might act like it because they think you are potential husband material.

2.Hiking….although lil’ Suzyette might enjoy a good walk on occasion, chances are she will be dressed in her best. Which will include sit-down shoes. Sit-down shoes are not walking shoes. They are only for making the leg and foot look sexy. Take lil’ Suzyette hiking and you will be carrying lil’ Suzyette all the way back to your car. If you choose to ignore this advice, at least do not point our deer turds and squirrels mating to her. This is uncouth.

3. To your parents house (because you are an unemployed, broke loser). This is the first date. No one really knows anyone else. It will be awkward. And, even more awkward if your dad decides to show off his farting skills.

4. To the local beer joint to watch you play pool. Chances are that lil’ Suzyette can beat your ass in pool. Redneck girls learn pool when still in diapers.

5. To the local Jaycee’s hot dog sale. Nuff said.

6. To shoot guns. Here again, you stand a chance of getting shown up. Baby redneck girls have loaded 45′s under their crib mattresses. She will leave you feeling like a Nancy-boy.

7. Mud-bogging. Yes, we redneck girls love riding big ol’ trucks thru the mud. So, at least forewarn her ahead of time so she can dress in her best camo instead of her newest mall purchase.

8. To catch nightworms for your next day fishing trip with your brother. Redneck girls are good at catching night worms and good at fishing. But, this is not romantic.

9.To visit your Ma in jail. Nuff said.

10. To Wal-Mart’s hunting section. She will be bored and wander off to cosmetics. When you catch up with her, she will drill you for an hour on which lipstick color is prettiest. But, you asked for it.

And…..

Do not make fun of Elvis

Lard is not a sex-aid

Being hot-tied or roped is not foreplay

Do not kiss your hunting dogs right before kissing her

Before kissing, take the chaw or snuff out of your mouth

Do not enter her in the wet T-shirt contest without her permission. No matter how big you think her boobs are.

Deer scent can not be substituted for deoderant

So, now….go git ‘er done!

Farting Under Water

 

I wrote a post a day or so ago about the things that I had learned from my big sister.

These are the things that I learned from my older brother…..

Farts DO stink underwater. I found this out the hard way. My brother had taken a friend of  his with us to swim in a local cow pond. It really was a cow pond.  When the cows came for a cool drink, it was time for us to take a break. I guess this served as an early method of blowing the whistle and making everyone get out of the water at public pools. That day, no cows, so we could swim. My brother and his friend, Booger (yep, I’m serious) were over in one end of the pond having a big time and laughing loudly. I saw bubbles coming up around them and became curious. I walked over (shallow water) to see where the bubbles were coming from. My brother said that he and Booger were farting and making bubbles. Being all girly, I said, “EEEWWWW!, y’all stink.” Ron, my brother, said, “No, we don’t! Farts don’t stink underwater. Come here and smell for yourself.” Now, my brother had pulled some pretty rotten tricks on me before and I was leery of doing this. But, he insisted that he was telling the truth and once again, I bought into his total package of fat lies. He told me to go under the water and shut my eyes and he would prove it to me. Well, I never thought about the reason for shutting my eyes. I did just like I was told. Afterall, he was my big brother and swore that he wasn’t lying to me. Mere seconds after dunking my head under, I smelled the most awful, rotten, putrid stink ever. I jumped up gagging. Ron and Booger were just inches away from me. Those two buttholes (literally) had farted right in my face. And, of course, he lied. Farts do stink underwater. And, of course, they thought this was the funniest thing ever!

My brother also taught me how to store food for later. Every Christmas, we would get candy. We didn’t get candy often since we were poor. My sisters and I would savor ours by eating one piece and saving the rest for later. Except, my brother would wait until we weren’t around and eat all of our candy. So, I decided that I had to do something. I got this really good idea……I would LICK each piece of my candy. The next time we got candy, I ate one piece and right in front of Ron, I licked rather sloppily, every piece of my candy. “Haha,” I said. “I spit on all my candy!” And surpirse, surpise, this worked. Now, I know that if I want to save food, I just need to spit on it and let everyone know that I did.

My brother taught me that some of the worst heartbreak comes from your own family. When my mother died, my brother and I had some differences in opinions about some things. I did not speak to him for 10 years. He hurt me so deeply with simple words that I felt a hot hatred for him that I didn’t think would ever go away.

My brother taught me that healing a broken heart can come from within the same family. When my sister died, he came home. I needed him and he knew it without me telling him. I no longer hate my brother. I don’t think that I ever did really hate my brother. Hurt passes for hate many times with many people. I love my brother. And, I will always love him……as long as he doesn’t fart underwater in my face or eat my candy.

Families are complicated. Families are unique. Familes sometimes are a puzzle of which we are but a piece. But, family is something you should be able to count on. And, in the end, I could.

I LOVE YOU, BIG BROTHER!

edited….Yesterday was Farting Boy’s birthday. I sent him a bday card with a picture of a woman farting on a man. And, ya know those little sample natural gas things that smell like rotten shit when you scratch them that you get from time to time from your gas company….I included one of those! I scratched it just seconds before putting it in the envelope. Happy Smell Day, too, BB!