Well, as Big Blogger stated, I didn't go out that infamous one-way door to the Great Beyond. I, instead, spent the week hangin' out in
The Holding Room
(Which is not the be confused with the Diary Room [Or is it Dairy Room?] or the way-cool VanHalen-infused Basement or even the uber-magnificent Kitchen.)
Big Blogger escorted me through the mysterious door - if by "escorted" you mean grabbed me by the nape of the neck like a bouncer in a biker bar - and slammed the door behind me. It was dim inside and I was confused. Suddenly the lights came on and I was in virtually any redneck's idea of Heaven.
Oh yes, methinks that Big Blogger decorated the Holding Room just for the redneck in me. The diva was completely forgotten and the redneck was embraced with much fervor. The walls were painted a tan that would go with any variety of RealTree camo and the severed heads of many, many formerly-living wildlife-ish creatures adorned those walls. The couch was just like Larry the Cable Guy's - a rather garish piece of furniture with a quaint mill or barn or something on the cushions. I looked around, stunned at first, and blinked my eyes in disbelief. I felt like I was at home.
When my heart stopped pounding in my ears I heard the faint sounds of banjo music that were obviously being piped in through a magical redneck sound system. I wondered briefly if I was in hell when I heard the banjo twanging softly, but when the next song started and it was a Dolly tune, I knew that all was going to be okay. Now, granted I'm not a big Dolly fan like Hillbilly Mom, but still Dolly's much better than eternal banjo music.
The fridge against the far wall was not only decorated in bumper stickers saying, of course, "Git R Done" and "This Car Protected by Smith & Wesson" to name a few, but it looked like it was circa 1960. Yep, it was a true good ol' boy fridge. I figured that when I opened the door I'd be greeted with a case of Old Milwaukee and a package of bratwurst and I wasn't disappointed. Well, I was disappointed that it was Old Milwaukee and bratwurst, but at least it wasn't a van turkey. I popped the top and gagged down the amber liquid, wishing for a tall, grinning Coors Light instead. But there was none to be had, so I had another Old Milwaukee. After two, though, the Old Milwaukee started grinning at me, so it was okay.
I know I
I pretty much lived this past week in a haze of cheap beer and wild turkey calls while I waited patiently for Big Blogger to let me back in. I'm not going to say it was a bad week. No, in fact, I rather enjoyed getting in touch with my redneck side a little more.
Upon entering the Cyberhouse once more I gathered up my sewing supplies and made myself a little something, just so I can always remember my week in The Holding Room. I've been trying to post a rassin' frassin' picture of it here for 15 minutes now and Blogger is being a real hassle, so I'm giving up for now. But rest assured, I'll post it as soon as I can.
Now, because it's become a bit of a habit, I'm going to have a beer and then go pass out on the couch with my hand stuck down in the waistband of my jeans and drift through my dreams with the sounds of deer in rut echoing in my head.