Word Problems for Rednecks - #1

Question: Your cousin, Billy Don, had decided that this weekend would be the perfect time to take his two boys, Joe Don and Frankie Don, duck hunting. He has asked you to go along so that you can be a shining example of proper hunting technique for the new hunters (as long as you don't tell inappropriate jokes or scratch yourself). You have already promised your supervisor at the mobile home factory that you would work an extra shift this Saturday for a coworker who had a tragic greased pig wrestling accident (but that's a story for another day). If you work the extra shift then you will get time and half pay of $15 per hour for the 8 hour shift. If you choose to go hunting then you will need to buy more ammunition that costs approximatly $20, a new set of camo bib overalls that cost $135 (the d*mn skunk used your last pair to have babies in after you left them out in the barn - but you couldn't bring them in the house with vomit, beer, and creek water on them now could you - but that's a story for another day - d*mn skunk !), and two duck decoys at $30 each (note to self - when you are drunk do not use the duck decoys for target practice - kinda defeats the purpose of having them). Oh wait - you will also need to purchase at least one case of beer (well you will have to do that with either option so I guess you don't have to include that in). When you calculate the money that you could make by working an extra shift and compare it to the cost of going hunting with the "Don" clan - which is the better choice?

Answer: This is actually a trick question. We all know that going hunting is the better choice in all circumstances.

Be your brother's best man at his 4th wedding or go hunting? GO HUNTING

Witness the birth of your 7th child or go hunting ? GO HUNTING

Meet with your probation officer or go hunting? GO HUNTING

Have lunch with the President or go hunting? TAKE THE PRESIDENT HUNTING ! (Just don't invite that ex-vice-president fella - he is dangerous with a rifle !)

McGee Brothers Painting

Derek has basically spent the past month working on fixing the damage to our rent house that was done by our previous deadbeat tenants. Evidently they were not aware that there was a bathroom in the house and that they didn't need to use the living room carpet for that. I can only assume that those stains were caused by a dog, but my goodness he must have been a Great Dane or a small pony. Derek took the boys over there to do some manual labor in the hopes of making them appreciate work. It didn't work. He said that they spent most of the time complaining and ignoring his instructions for how to get things done the right way. However they have become really good at doing two minutes of work and then requiring a whole Gatorade followed by a bottle of water. Things that normally would have taken him a few hours to do alone took twice that long with their "help". The day that they ripped up the carpet he said that he heard the words "gross" and "disgusting" at least a hundred times. So he started throwing out his own words. I am assuming that he meant they were of the curse variety.

In the hopes of getting the rooms all painted in just a few days, he decided to give them another chance. He gave them strict instructions on how to load the paint onto the brush, wipe the brush against the side of the can, and then apply the paint in even strokes onto the wall. Evidently their "parent to teen speak translator" was broken and they heard - dip the entire brush into the can all the way up to your wrist, don't bother wiping the excess off, and then slap the paint onto the wall as you are a monkey flinging your own feces. Evidently this caused Derek to proceed to throw out more of the curse variety words and the boys ended up walking home from the rent house (partly due to Derek's anger and disgust - partly due to the fact that they were covered in paint and he didn't want them in the truck).

Derek told me that we never have to worry about them opening a painting business together but if they do then their motto should be "McGee Brothers Painting - we do a bad job ... but we do it really slowly".

I Feed Bees

It's not ... I feed bees to bears or I feed bees to rabid monkeys ... no - I actually feed the little bees. A few weeks ago while sitting out on our deck under the recently purchased umbrella (that I now love - there I said it - and yes I have told Derek that I was wrong about it ... but alas that is another story), a bee came along and started "drinking" off of the edge of Derek's soda can. We knew that he wasn't going to bother us if we just let him get his drink and go - so we just let him be (pun intended). Well Derek got up to move the water hose in the yard and evidently our little bee buddy got selfish and flew down into the can. Can you see where this is going? When Derek got back to the deck, he sat down in his fave chair and proceeded to take a giant gulp from his can. He then proceeded to spew the soda along with the very traumatized bee out onto the deck. That poor little fella (the bee not Derek) probably felt like he had been swallowed by a fat, bald dude and spit back out on to a deck.

Of course, me being me, I go in the house and get some water to rinse the bee off. Nevermind checking the husband's mouth for bee stings - nah - he's a big boy - he can handle it. I slowly poured water on the little bee and he walked around as if he had had a few dry martinis for a little while, then flapped his little wings and took to the sky. I do remember hearing a tiny "thanks kind lady" as he flew away and I swear that he was flipping Derek off with one of his wings and vowing future revenge.

So now, when we sit out on the deck, I put out a little saucer of soda or tea for the bees to drink. Derek thinks that I am just luring them to our house so that they can form a posse and attack him while he sleeps. What? That's just crazy talk ! I would never do such a thing (insert evil, mad scientist laugh here). Actually, I have told him that I now consider the bees to be my little pets and that if he doesn't let me keep feeding them then I will just be forced to get either a dog or a small pony. He is thinking of names for my new little bee friends as I type.

I am the Queen of the Magazine Comment

I just can't help it. After the hell that antidepressants have put me through, when I see an article in a magazine about how great they are - I either have the option of screaming or writing a comment to the magazine. Sometimes I choose both.

A doctor actually suggested in an article written for a well known women's magazine that women should take an AD (the article mentioned one by name but I am refraining from using the name of the actual poison pill in this entry) in order to curb cigarette cravings - it made me want to scream but instead of going out into the backyard and throwing myself down in a hissy fit, I wrote them this lovely little comment:

Your suggestion that women should take (poison pill name here) in order to curb the cravings for cigarettes is just ridiculous. Antidepressants have serious side-effects. You would know that if you had done some real research into the subject. Taking any sort of pill to curb an addiction is the most ridiculous thing in the world to me. You cannot trade one addiction for another and expect to walk away "clean". It's like saying "I am going to start smoking pot to cure my alcoholism". It makes no sense at all !

This is the response that I got:

Thanks for writing to (well know women's magazine name here) to comment on "The Healthy Woman's Checklist" in the September issue. The author of the article, (insert uneducated doctor's name here), recommended that smokers use an "anti-craving regiment of (poison pill name here) and nicotine patches" to quit. (Poison pill name here) is widely prescribed for smoking cessation.

I am waiting until tomorrow to write a response so that I don't pepper that poor woman's computer screen with "colorful words".

She Should Have Picked Dumber Parents

Rachel, the little phone call princess, is grounded for about another three weeks from the boyfriend. Her actual ungrounding day is September 1st. Since that doesn't fall on a weekend she has already had the nerve to ask if she can go out with the boyfriend on the weekend before. Um...no. This was her fourth bad phone bill. Fool me once shame on me. Fool me four times and it just makes me really pissed off.

Rachel's friend who just happens to be the boyfriend's first cousin just called out of the blue and invited her over for lunch and to see her new school clothes. They haven't talked to each other all summer but suddenly she invites her over. Does anybody else see where this is going? So Rachel comes to me and asks if she can go over there and the first thing out of my mouth is, "Is he over there?". I will give her credit - she did act genuinely surprised that I had figured that one out when she got back on the phone and asked if he was over there. Of course he was there - his whole family was there. Gosh - if only she had found parents who were actually as dumb as bricks then she would be getting to see him right now. Too bad. So sad.

So I am sure as punishment to us, she will not talk to us for the rest of the day. Jokes on her - we consider that to be a reward !

Evidently They Don't Just Give Those Licenses Away

She took the test today. She did NOT pass. We are NOT surprised. Hmmm ... maybe mom and dad do know how to turn on the blipping turning signal. Maybe mom and dad do know where to stop at stop signs. Maybe mom and dad do know the proper way to change lanes. Maybe dad gets to get up again tomorrow morning at 5 am to take the little darling to take the test again because that is something that mom does NOT know how to do !

It's Not Really a Wreck if it was an Accident

I let Rachel drive us up to the school on Saturday for the kids to take their physicals for sports and while they were in there then she and I went driving around. Notice I didn't say that we went for a "pleasant drive". There is nothing pleasant about driving with a teenager who is either scared to drive at all or punching the gas pedal as if she saw the checkered flag. Stopping at stop signs seems to be quite the challenge for the little dear. We either stop ten feet before the sign and then can't see the semi-truck looming towards us when we hit the gas to go or we stop ten feet on the other side of the stop sign and barely miss the semi-truck that is flying by us. She also seems to have yield signs and stop signs confused. Maybe it's the awkward shapes and pretty colors that are distracting her - who knows. She comes to a full stop at yield signs "just in case there really is something coming" and can't come to a complete stop at stop signs. It's such an adventure ! I literally fall out of the van and kiss the ground offering up praises to the god of driving every time that we make it home alive.

When we went back up to the school to get Riley and Emily after their physicals were done, I just had her pull in sideways in the parking lot so they could just hop in the side door on the van. They found the van (eventually) and Rachel didn't even look before pulling out into traffic. She was jabbering about something at school and didn't pay any attention to the car that was right beside us. I saw it ! I screamed "RACHEL !". She did not stop. I screamed "RACHEL!". She did not stop. I screamed "BRAKES! BRAKES!". She stopped and looked at me as if I had yelled "ALIEN ATTACK!". She seriously had no idea what I was yelling about. "Did you not see that car that you just hit?" She blinked Bambi style and said "oh - I wasn't looking". Um ... no sh*t Sherlock ... I figured that one out on my own.

Of course she pouted all the way home and I told her that she better get over it because if I hadn't yelled at her then she would have hit that other car. She said (through the curtain of well placed tears), "I didn't mean to". Well I will be sure to tell God that nobody should get hurt in car accidents where "she didn't mean to". I am sure that He will understand.