It's pouring the rain in the holler this morning, which is fine with me, but probably a little disappointing to all the tourists wandering around town. I've already had to venture out to the dollar store. I ran out of coffee yesterday and was too damn lazy to get off my duff and go get more forgot to go out for more. Since I was out anyway, I picked up some stuff for breakfast.. erm.. I mean brunch I guess, which is sizzling away in the pan as we speak. With my new schedule, there seem to be more days that all three of us are home in the mornings, resulting in more hot breakfasts.
My waistline will suffer.
Ma cornered me first thing this morning, she wanted me to take her to Scary Hillbilly Town for granny panty shopping.
Wal-Mart on July 4th weekend?
I am so not in the mood for a hillbilly mob scene, thankyouverymuch.
Thank goodness she'd talked herself out of it by the time I got back from town. Bless her heart, she needs to get out of the house and I know it would do her a world of good, but her timing isn't great. Maybe I can waller her up in the truck later and go for a ride around town. She has yet to know the pleasures of Jolene (the truck.) I'm still not sure I can get her up in the cab. I have a feeling that will be a story unto itself.
I celebrated the birth of our nation last night watching Craig Ferguson, some big city fireworks and the Boston Pops. It never fails, my life can be going to hell in a handbasket, at warp speed, then I can sit down in front of the boob tube and watch the Fergburger and within minutes I'm grinning like someone who only gets down off the mountain twice a year and is her own cousin twice removed.
Ferguson's appearance triggered a wave of hits here at Hidden Mahala, all searches for "craig ferguson girlfriend." It's sort of creepy, 9 out of 10 of those hits are always from the L.A. area. Last night they were split between the L.A. area and around Boston. It makes my stalker-radar go all tingly when I see that. It's one thing if some Tupelo cat lady is Googling out of curiosity, it's another thing entirely when it's in your own back yard.
I once got hits on that same subject, using the L.A. office of the Writer's Guild of America's servers. Weird.
If I were a celebrity (don't laugh so loud.. I have feelings!) I'd be paranoid as hell. Nineteen rottweilers, a moat filled with piranhas and a twelve foot fence, topped with barbed wire. My inner Martha Stewart would force me to grow a flowering vine over the barbed wire, but by gollyjebus it would be there.
Anywho, laundry is calling my name and it just dawned on me that I didn't pick up toilet paper or dishwasher detergent on my early morning dollar store run. I guess I'll walk back up there in a bit, if it stops raining.
My waistline will suffer.
Ma cornered me first thing this morning, she wanted me to take her to Scary Hillbilly Town for granny panty shopping.
Wal-Mart on July 4th weekend?
I am so not in the mood for a hillbilly mob scene, thankyouverymuch.
Thank goodness she'd talked herself out of it by the time I got back from town. Bless her heart, she needs to get out of the house and I know it would do her a world of good, but her timing isn't great. Maybe I can waller her up in the truck later and go for a ride around town. She has yet to know the pleasures of Jolene (the truck.) I'm still not sure I can get her up in the cab. I have a feeling that will be a story unto itself.
I celebrated the birth of our nation last night watching Craig Ferguson, some big city fireworks and the Boston Pops. It never fails, my life can be going to hell in a handbasket, at warp speed, then I can sit down in front of the boob tube and watch the Fergburger and within minutes I'm grinning like someone who only gets down off the mountain twice a year and is her own cousin twice removed.
Ferguson's appearance triggered a wave of hits here at Hidden Mahala, all searches for "craig ferguson girlfriend." It's sort of creepy, 9 out of 10 of those hits are always from the L.A. area. Last night they were split between the L.A. area and around Boston. It makes my stalker-radar go all tingly when I see that. It's one thing if some Tupelo cat lady is Googling out of curiosity, it's another thing entirely when it's in your own back yard.
I once got hits on that same subject, using the L.A. office of the Writer's Guild of America's servers. Weird.
If I were a celebrity (don't laugh so loud.. I have feelings!) I'd be paranoid as hell. Nineteen rottweilers, a moat filled with piranhas and a twelve foot fence, topped with barbed wire. My inner Martha Stewart would force me to grow a flowering vine over the barbed wire, but by gollyjebus it would be there.
Anywho, laundry is calling my name and it just dawned on me that I didn't pick up toilet paper or dishwasher detergent on my early morning dollar store run. I guess I'll walk back up there in a bit, if it stops raining.
Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk more soon.
Later Taters!
6 comments:
the fergamaster always makes me feel better. how cute was he singing God Bless America?
I stayed up late and got a good dose of the fergburger myself last night. i'm beginning to see the attraction ;)
I guess I'm going to have to stay up later and watch him (instead of blogging) to see what you like. Last night found me going to sleep soon after our guests left. A day of sun and fresh air and a little more booze than I'm used to put the kibosh on any late night shenanigans (of the TV tuype).
dianne: adorable as always :)
poopie: he grows on ya, kinda like a toenail fungs.
kenju: I'm rarely able to stay up that late myself. I usually still set the DVR on Fridays, just in case I doze off lol.
I wish I had an inner Martha.
You want time-tested security? Fill that moat with lyopleuridons.
Then hop in the sack with the Fergburger (because he will want to be your boyfriend), and enjoy the peace and quiet that a ring of prehistoric monsters'll gitcha.
Watch out though - they have a taste for flowering vines.
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