I crawled out of bayed and had a hankerin’ for a play-it of ree-yubs hot off the gree-yuhl. Then I’m uh fixin’ to are up and hit the road.
Oh gawd, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the hell is happening to me. I’m so glad I’m going home today. I’m talking weird and yesterday I even bought myself a pair of those jeans overalls like they wear on Hee Haw. But now it’s time for me to go home. Just as well. I keep lapsing into Southernese and I won’t be able to get back out. Besides, I miss the offspring, I miss Mr. G, I miss that insane dog of ours and most of all I missed four days of work without pay and my husband is threatening to kill me if I don’t hightail it back ASAP.
Well my trip to Georgia wouldn’t be complete if it didn’t involve an encounter with the poleece. There I was sitting at the traffic light, minding my own business when I heard “whrrr whrrruh behind me. I looked in the rear view mirror and son of a gun, the poleece were on my ass. And not in a Jack Daniels kind of way either.
Officer (who I might add was a tad on the chubby
side): “Ma’am, I observed you at the light.”
Me: “You did?!” I fluttered my eyelashes flirtatiously
at said chubby officer. “What did you think?”
Officer: “I think you should have gone through the
light when it turned green, but you didn’t. Why is
that, Ma’am? Are you high on crack?”
Me: “Nope. Just conceited. I was checking out my
makeup and hair.”
Officer: LOUD SIGH. “I’m citing you for that.”
Me: “For what? Being conceited? That’s a crime now?!”
Officer: “I’m citing you for a moving violation.”
Me: “But I wasn’t moving!”
Officer: “Noooow you’re getting it, Blondie.”
I AM MAJORLY PISSED!!! (As per usual) I was checking out the shopping channels before amageddon packed. (I’m sorry. It just comes out when I least expect it.) Anywho, they featured dolls that I actually invented! But once again, I didn’t get a patent. These dolls spoke a foreign language and they even won a toy award for being the best educational toy. That is so bogus. I designed exactly the same doll, except mine didn’t speak that useless French, Chinese or <yawn> Spanish, mine spoke Trailer Trashese. I even dressed them all the dolls in tight spandex pants and high heels. The premise was simple: yank on their overly teased hair and the doll would say one of several phrases, such as:
“Kids, do you have any cigarettes? Mommy’s all out.”
“It’s Friday, kids! Time for a trip to prison to visit
“Pour your mother a whiskey neat, will ya?”
“Oh no you di’n’t!” (Oops sorry. that was from the doll that spoke Ghettoese. Sometimes I get them confused.) And who can forget this infamous phrase,
“You better not be pregnant!” If only I hadn’t procrastinated! <insert I fucked up again emoticon here>
Last night when I was shaving my moustache, it occurred to me that perhaps JimmyD was on to something. Perhaps South should post his crap on my site and I should post my crap on his site. Whereas he forbids me to mention COPS or cops, I shall forbid him to mention politics.
Joe came over last night and we crawled into South’s big ole bed and watched some TV. Joe insisted on watching his favorite, Surreal Life. “But I…I will survive, oh as long as I know how to love…” (told ya!) As I watched Janice Dickinson, I realized that I am merely a junior princess in waiting compared to her drama queen talents. She had more moodswings than a crack ‘ho looking for a fix. Then we watched movies about stalking, pedophilia, infidelity and murder, so you just know we had to be watching the “Lifetime Channel: Television for Women”!! Because nothing says “romance,” quite like a good “I’ve been boinking your younger sister” movie. BTW, if there’s a guy stalking you and he’s outside your house, for Pete’s sake, close your damn blinds.
While we were watching tv I saw a commercial for the Cabbage Patch dolls. I told Joe about the time that I bought a couple of Cabbage Patch dolls for my daughters. Well, I didn’t exactly buy them. I made them myself. You know how I like to save money. Everything was great until the summer came and the cabbage got buggy and started to stink. Alas, I had a good time with Joe until I caught him stroking my beloved Hoveround. I drove his ass right to the front door and gave him the old heave ho. NOBODY covets my Hoveround!!
I called home to let everybody know I was leaving today, and Male Offspring #7, who has a bit of a lisp problem, answered the phone. He told me he and his daddy were “bizthe” working on his Halloween “cothtume”. I said, “What are you going to be?” And he said, “I’m on the twat team.” That answer had better be a result of his lisp or I am SO kicking his dad’s ass when I get home.
Just when I thought I had that panhandling thing all sewn up, I see a guy on the news with a sign that reads, “Can you spare a dollar to buy pot?” I’d be all, “No, I can’t spare a dollar for you, but here’s a buck. Go score some for me, will ya?” Hey, you can’t beat pot for a buck.
Although I’m anxious to get home, when I leave here today it will take me several days to get adjusted back to trailer park living. (Hahaha…I just want you to know I typed that with a totally straight face, too.) But I really will miss the widescreen tv, the DSL, the people who talk funny (that would be all of them) and the ease with which my Hoveround moves throughout South’s hovel. But I always have the nightmares to contend with when I return. I think it’s from staring at South’s “artwork,” for five days, but I dream that naked women with hairy cooches are chasing me. Verrrry unsettling.
Okay, kids, I’m outtie!
“Changing the world, one trailer court at a time.”