Friday, June 23, 2006

Big Blogger 2 - Task #8 - I Know What You Did Last Blog

As if looking over our shoulders for Fitty wasn't enough, Big Blogger gave us stalkers of our very own this week. Guess she figured we needed to be on our toes more. Maybe she thinks if we stay on our toes we'll keep them attached to our bodies. I dunno. Plus, not only did being in the Cyberhouse this week get us our very own stalkers, but we became stalkers ourselves.

And because we share a husband anyway, Hillbilly Mom and I just stalked each other. Yeah. We're funny like that. (Here are her stalker notes.)

Oh yes, Hillbilly Mom and I share a lot of things, not just a husband - the main thing being our love for cabana boys. Granted, she's been kind of stingy with Carlos since I brought him into the house, but I'm willing to let that go if she'll share her three pool boys with me. It's a win/win situation, trust me. We'd also be lost without Sonic, by cracky. There's a camaraderie amongst Sonic addicts, methinks.

I've been reading stalking Hillbilly Mom for awhile now and I've learned a few things about her over time. No, I don't have a overwhelming desire to hack her into pieces or make a lamp out of her, but I do have this strange desire to pee every time I see NASCAR stuff. I thank her personally for that.

Now, don't start thinking that you might want to stalk her, too. While this is a labor of love because I think she's the absolute bomb, she's not easy to keep track of. The whole getting up at 4:20am thing wears on a stalker after awhile and I found myself yawning at around 4:22. Not because she's boring - no! Because she gets up earlier than should be allowed by law! Fortunately she takes a nap in the recliner after a bit, so I would snuggle in with the poopies on her husband's pet pillow outside her window and grab a snooze, too.

Every day I'd drive behind her large SUV in my Astro Van while she drove erratically with bugs in her eyes all the way to school - the school where she spends her days educating the DoNots. However, she had no idea that awhile back I was disguised as a DoNot in her classroom. Oh yes. I was there to witness the Gummi Mary event, halleluiah. You didn't realize that, did you, Hillbilly Mom? I'm just that good. See, you were so busy looking at the green shirt I wore every day and dreaming of your old shirt Jeannie to notice that I am 33 years old and have gray hairs peeking through my fiery red locks. Speaking of locks, Hillbilly Mom says her beautician looks like me. Nah. It IS me! I not only spend my days duct-taping the kids to the floor, but I also moonlight as a lady mullet trimmer. I like to make people feel OH SO PRETTY. But this isn't about me. Back to Hillbilly Mom.....

Hillbilly Mom has a few interesting hobbies - like digging up rocks. Now, personally I've never been one for digging up rocks myself, but whatever trips her trigger. She also has been known to scratch. One might think it's because she's a Histinex addict, but it's because she's addicted to lottery tickets. It seems to be quite profitable for her as well. So profitable that I think she needs to take her winnings and hit a Sylvan Learning Center for some extra math lessons this summer. She's also a bit of a casino gambler as well, but I will not discuss that here, seeing as how I'm a bit of a gambler myself. I don't want to anger the gambling gods. The hobby that is probably the most entertaining, though, - if not the most disturbing - is the fact that almost nightly she dresses up as a bat-laden Coors Light can. And the Christmas ornaments on her ears? That's a nightly thing too. Oh, she might tell you that was a long time ago, but don't let her fool you. The force is still strong with that one.

One of the major perks of stalking Hillbilly Mom was getting to follow her to Branson. I likes me some Branson. I installed a high-tech listening device in her large SUV so I could get the scoop on why she and her family are in the Blogger Protection Program and are sequesterd away in the hills of Missouri, but I couldn't hear any conversation for all the Dolly Parton music. I'm thinking her paranoia has something to do with Fitty, but I can't say for sure. She duped me. She's a sly one, that Hillbilly Mom.

I could go on and on about the things I know about Hillbilly Mom, but I need to keep some info to myself. We stalkers can't divulge everything all at once. Besides I just found a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese in her pantry (you know, when I was alphabetizing it for her) and before she gets back home I'm going to whip up the cheesy goodness and have me a stalker-snack before I soak in the free hot tub. Ooh and look - Ranch dressing!!


Hillbilly Mom said...

That was OH SO WELL-DONE, my dear Diva. Unlike HH's steak at Ponderosa on Father's Day.

I am speechless. Well, not really.

I DID listen to my Dolly in the large SUV today, and I DID serve my kids some Kraft Mac & Cheese for supper a few minutes ago. But it wasn't expired.

If you lie down with poopies, you'll get up with your uniboob chewed off. Those poopies chewed up HH's pillow long ago, as well as a wooden flower tub in the front yard, three cedar boards from the porch (the boards you WALK on, not a railing), a piece of cedar siding in the wall of the house, Cubby's collar that wasn't fastened tight enough, and a Mountain Dew can from the neighbors' yard. If you have any evidence you want to dispose of, just toss it in my front yard. It will never be found.

Rebecca said...

This Is Big Blogger.
I think you two should just get a room, a few knives and other dangerous things, and there can only be one survivor.
Two Hillbillies enter, One Hillbilly leaves.....
This Has Been Big Blogger

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