Why It's Hard to be Single in Frog Pond Holler

I've no idea where this post will take us, I advise you keep you seatbelts fastened until we reach our destination.

We're currently experiencing a gullywasher here in Frog Pond Holler, which would be a good thing ... if the van window weren't still incapacitated. I've got it covered with a garbage bag at the moment (You might be a redneck.....) but the other night as lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the mountains, I was out in my front yard in my nightgown and fuzzy slippers using the last of the Glad Press n' Seal Wrap on the open window (You might be a really dumb redneck...)

Those of you who followed me here to the new site from the old one, may remember the story of how I almost lost a body part which I hold quite near and dear to my heart when during a training meeting, a white board went flying into the air, turning and nearly impaling my reproductive girly bits. During the telling of the tale, I mentioned a man from the cubicle asylum who seems to be smitten with yours truly, the man who was doing the training. I try to avoid him like the black plague, I'm not fond of the way he roughly caresses the back of my neck during those times when he uses any excuse he can to invade my cubicle and park himself right beside me.

I mention this because yesterday, I was informed, he went to my next-door-cubicle-neighbor with his head hanging low and asked her to find out what he'd done to "skeer her awf", indicating that he was talking about me.

Lord have mercy.

Just the fact that he's always either looking for a place to spit or trying not to choke on that tobacco juice he's constantly got oozing out from the corners of his mouth should be enough. Never mind the story that circulated about him a few years ago, when he declared that the best sex he'd ever had was when during some particularly rough nookie, he'd accidentally punched some poor hoochie mama's tooth out.

DARN TOOTIN' I'M SKEERED!!

What is it with men going and sending other people to find out stuff for them? Another potential suitor I had here in town, who has, by the way, never even said "boo" to me, went up to where Ma used to work to ask her if I was available and a few other embarrassing inquiries which I don't care to repeat. This one had a house full of youngins and his job? He mows for a living. I don't mean landscaping. I don't mean he's got a fleet of people working for him doing yard work for the more financially secure residents of Frog Pond Holler. I mean he loads his lawnmower and his weedwacker on the back of his pickup and goes door to door asking if he can mow.

OOOOOO I'm a sex magnet, lemme tell ya.

Ma says I'm still "unattached" because I'm "too choosy." Of course, she says this giggling when Lawnmower Man rides by the house for the 25th time that day. I usually refer to him as "the red headed skank's uncle/brother," which is a whole other story in itself.

Now I've got nothing against men in trucks. I think there's something sexy about a man kicking around in an old pickup. It's okay if he drives a SUV or a sports car the rest of the time, but if he's got an old truck out behind the garage to bop around in on the weekends, it's a big plus. If it's a straight shift and he'll let me drive it once in a while, well there's no telling what I may be compelled to agree to.

I'm really not that hard to please.

Where employment is concerned, I'd just really appreciate someone who has a job of some kind. Really. Besides mowing.

I'm not opposed to a ready made family either, but I do have my limits. I have no desire to become mother to six or eight little rugrats.

Is that too much to ask?

Having grown up in the south, it was drilled in to my skull from a very young age, that "good girls" don't approach men, nor do they call them or ask them on dates. I realize, that in this day and age it's a bit archaic, but when you've heard something repeated your entire life, it tends to stick with you. So....

If you happen to be a man with a job, reasonable grooming habits, an old pickup truck, less than 6 little youngins runnin' amuck, a fondness for critters and home cooked meals ...... and although you have my number, you're sitting there waiting for me to call, you're going to have to bite the bullet and pick up the phone. Really, it's ok. I don't bite.. hard. Well.. not in anger. It's true that I'm shy with anyone at first and it may be like pulling teeth, but you'll soon be begging me to shut the hell up and give it a rest.

Honest.

Dang. See what happens to me when The Late Late show goes into reruns for a whole week and I'm denied fresh clips of Craig Ferguson over breakfast?