ROTFLMFAO!!
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: Knocking, of course....
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
THE STUFF
Check this out!
I want one of these Ewok Tree Houses.
I do.
Would that be Über Cool or what???
Get this. It's like a REAL house in there, with kitchen, bed, sofa, dining table, little office thingie, EVERYTHING you could possibly need
except
a bathroom.
That's right, a BATHROOM.
I COULD do that bathing in the river thingie IF I HAD TO, but bygawd, I do believe I hate doing my other bathroom "bidness" in the woods.
2 reasons.
Reason No. 1: Did that once on the drive from Wichita Falls to Port Arthur, TX, and somewhere along Alto, TX, where Patches
is from, (I don't really KNOW that Patches is from Alto, just seems like he might be) I simply HAD to pee....so I pulled over and trudged out into the woods, squatted down, did my bidness, got back in my car, and eventually made it home to Port Arthur.
Where when I got to use MY REAL BATHROOM, I found a fucking TICK in my belly button. Oh, yes, I did.
Reason No. 2: When I lived in Odessa, TX, and made that interminable drive from there to Wichita Falls to visit my parents, no matter how small the amount of water I drank BEFORE the trip, somewhere along that *cough* oasis of between Midland and wherever, the urge would get really strong to go.
Now, as Fade will tell ya, out in that desolate part of Tejas there is ne'er ONE TREE to hide behind while you piss. NOT ONE.
So I would tell my kids to TELL ME when a car was coming while I squatted right there on the shoulder sorta behind the car.
Kids: "Mama, car's coming!"
I'd jump up, yanking my pants up (not wanting to have passersby seeing me with my junk hanging out all over the place) and instantly,
Kids: "BWAAAAAHHAHAHAHAAAA! We was funning you, Mama."
Me: "You're both getting your asses whipped....WHEN I FINISH."
Kids: "Yeah, RIGHT, Mama...."
So after about 4 times, BTW, us females can cut out piss off in a nanosecond. I mean, we can SHUT IT OFF!
So anyway, after about 4 times of that BULLSHIT...
Kids: "Mama, car's coming!"
Me: "Yeah, RIGHT...."
Uh huh.
Mutherfucking 18-wheeler would SLOW DOWN and HONK at my ass.
Kids: "BWAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAAHA! We wasn't funning you, Mama."
Me: "You're both getting your asses whipped....AS SOON AS REGAIN MY DIGNITY!"
Kids: "Yeah, RIGHT....."
Vroom-vroom!
:)
I do.
Would that be Über Cool or what???
Get this. It's like a REAL house in there, with kitchen, bed, sofa, dining table, little office thingie, EVERYTHING you could possibly need
except
a bathroom.
That's right, a BATHROOM.
I COULD do that bathing in the river thingie IF I HAD TO, but bygawd, I do believe I hate doing my other bathroom "bidness" in the woods.
2 reasons.
Reason No. 1: Did that once on the drive from Wichita Falls to Port Arthur, TX, and somewhere along Alto, TX, where Patches
is from, (I don't really KNOW that Patches is from Alto, just seems like he might be) I simply HAD to pee....so I pulled over and trudged out into the woods, squatted down, did my bidness, got back in my car, and eventually made it home to Port Arthur.
Where when I got to use MY REAL BATHROOM, I found a fucking TICK in my belly button. Oh, yes, I did.
Reason No. 2: When I lived in Odessa, TX, and made that interminable drive from there to Wichita Falls to visit my parents, no matter how small the amount of water I drank BEFORE the trip, somewhere along that *cough* oasis of between Midland and wherever, the urge would get really strong to go.
Now, as Fade will tell ya, out in that desolate part of Tejas there is ne'er ONE TREE to hide behind while you piss. NOT ONE.
So I would tell my kids to TELL ME when a car was coming while I squatted right there on the shoulder sorta behind the car.
Kids: "Mama, car's coming!"
I'd jump up, yanking my pants up (not wanting to have passersby seeing me with my junk hanging out all over the place) and instantly,
Kids: "BWAAAAAHHAHAHAHAAAA! We was funning you, Mama."
Me: "You're both getting your asses whipped....WHEN I FINISH."
Kids: "Yeah, RIGHT, Mama...."
So after about 4 times, BTW, us females can cut out piss off in a nanosecond. I mean, we can SHUT IT OFF!
So anyway, after about 4 times of that BULLSHIT...
Kids: "Mama, car's coming!"
Me: "Yeah, RIGHT...."
Uh huh.
Mutherfucking 18-wheeler would SLOW DOWN and HONK at my ass.
Kids: "BWAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAAHA! We wasn't funning you, Mama."
Me: "You're both getting your asses whipped....AS SOON AS REGAIN MY DIGNITY!"
Kids: "Yeah, RIGHT....."
Vroom-vroom!
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: Convoy
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
RENAMING THE STREET
Ah, yes, another day, another outrage....
Today, my friends, we are going to do something constructive around here...for a change.
We're gonna help the Whitewood, S.D. City Council rename a street.
Uh huh, we are.
See, up in Whitewood, population 800 give or take, a brouhaha is underway about the name of a street there.
Leading the charge is the Rev. David Baer, who is HIGHLY offended that one of the streets in Whitewood is named HOOKER St.
That's right, HOOKER St.
Nevermind that it's named after a Union general, General Joseph "Fighting Joe* Hooker.
HOOKER ANYTHING simply won't do. Well, they do, but you know....
So we're gonna offer our assistance to the Whitewood City Council.
We're gonna help 'em rename that pesky street.
Oh, YES WE ARE.
Now, I've taken the liberty of coming up with a couple of new street names.
Wait....
I'm not gonna be selfish about this.
I'm gonna enlist YOU in this effort.
So, here are the choices.
Vote and vote often. Just pretend you're in Texas or something...
And when the final results are in, I will PERSONALLY contact the Whitewood City Council with the results.
You KNOW I will, don't you?
HELL yes.
Anyhoo, let's rock!
Today, my friends, we are going to do something constructive around here...for a change.
We're gonna help the Whitewood, S.D. City Council rename a street.
Uh huh, we are.
See, up in Whitewood, population 800 give or take, a brouhaha is underway about the name of a street there.
Leading the charge is the Rev. David Baer, who is HIGHLY offended that one of the streets in Whitewood is named HOOKER St.
That's right, HOOKER St.
Nevermind that it's named after a Union general, General Joseph "Fighting Joe* Hooker.
HOOKER ANYTHING simply won't do. Well, they do, but you know....
So we're gonna offer our assistance to the Whitewood City Council.
We're gonna help 'em rename that pesky street.
Oh, YES WE ARE.
Now, I've taken the liberty of coming up with a couple of new street names.
Wait....
I'm not gonna be selfish about this.
I'm gonna enlist YOU in this effort.
So, here are the choices.
Vote and vote often. Just pretend you're in Texas or something...
And when the final results are in, I will PERSONALLY contact the Whitewood City Council with the results.
You KNOW I will, don't you?
HELL yes.
Anyhoo, let's rock!
What???
:)
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: Private, yes?
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
BALLS
So I don't know about your part of the world, but here in the Hill Country, balls are everywhere!
That's right, baby,
BALLS.
BIG DANGLING BALLS!
Out there swinging in the breeze for all to see.
Not an ounce of shyness (or modesty) in 'em.
Well, see for yourself.
That's right, baby,
BALLS.
BIG DANGLING BALLS!
Out there swinging in the breeze for all to see.
Not an ounce of shyness (or modesty) in 'em.
Well, see for yourself.
Now, lest you think ONE-SIZE-FITS-ALL, have I got a surprise for you!
Well, OK, One-Size DOES fit all, but trust me here, there's a SET OF BALLS out there to satisfy even the most picky of BALL OWNERS.
So let's take a tour of the, ummmm, OCCUPATIONAL BALLS, shall we?
We shall.
First *UP*
Wait. That doesn't work with this.
*Hanging low*
we have
1. ZZ Top (Sharp Dressed) Balls
Well, OK, One-Size DOES fit all, but trust me here, there's a SET OF BALLS out there to satisfy even the most picky of BALL OWNERS.
So let's take a tour of the, ummmm, OCCUPATIONAL BALLS, shall we?
We shall.
First *UP*
Wait. That doesn't work with this.
*Hanging low*
we have
1. ZZ Top (Sharp Dressed) Balls
2. Mandingo Balls
3. Hillbilly Balls
4. Bob The Builder's Been Hitting The Sauce Too Much Balls
5. Stop Drop Roll AND Call 911 Balls
6. White Pasty Dude Balls
7. Blow Balls
8. Survivalist Balls
9. Hunter Balls
10. Oo-La-La Festive Balls
11. Presidential (Hillary Rodham Clinton) Balls
Happy Ballin'!
:)
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: Oh, please. This one is a no-brainer....
Monday, November 26, 2007
THE TURKEY
Yes, I KNOW Turkey Day has come and gone, but this story just blew my socks off.
So get this.
This dude up in Minnesota....
Before we go there, lemme ask you something.
When you buy that turkey at your local grocery store, what size is it?
NORMAL peeps buy a 10-18 pounder.
Somewhere in that vicinity.
And after it thaws, you stick your hand up the turkey ass & pull out that whatever the hell that is, then you stuff it with dressing, then you pop that puppy in the oven, yes?
Well.
This dude up in Minnesota decided he was gonna one-up his sister and cook a REALLY big bird for T-Day.
He did.
Check this out.
So get this.
This dude up in Minnesota....
Before we go there, lemme ask you something.
When you buy that turkey at your local grocery store, what size is it?
NORMAL peeps buy a 10-18 pounder.
Somewhere in that vicinity.
And after it thaws, you stick your hand up the turkey ass & pull out that whatever the hell that is, then you stuff it with dressing, then you pop that puppy in the oven, yes?
Well.
This dude up in Minnesota decided he was gonna one-up his sister and cook a REALLY big bird for T-Day.
He did.
Check this out.
That's an affirmative, baby.
A 72-POUND turkey.
"It exploded," exclaimed Rachel Portnoy, 17, after her father, Rich Portnoy, took his 72-pound dressed turkey out of the family's gourmet oven Thursday."
No shit.
BOOM!
Now is that just about the creepiest thing you've EVER seen or what???
That fucker's thighs are as BIG AS MINE!
Get that crap off the table and let's eat some
rice and beans, OK?
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: My MAN, Marc Broussard! Can he SING or what???
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
LOVE IS A MANY SPLENDORED YADA YADA
So this freak dude up in Winnepeg, "Eh, 'Sup," got drunk and horny.
Now, from time to time, we've all been there, done that...
Now, from time to time, we've all been there, done that...
Well, OK, not THAT ^^^^^^
but he did.
Uh huh.
He sure as hell did.
So here's what happened.
Horny Drunk Dude broke into Garage A. Within minutes, he broke into Garage B (A's neighbor) where he stole a lawn mower, a mountain bike, a blanket and a stuffed toy dog. He then returned to Garage A, where the police found him 2 hours later passed out inside a boat. That's right, a boat.
If ONLY Horny Drunk Dude would have left it at burglarizing shit...
But, nooooooo, he just HAD to get his groove on.
"He was lying there with his genitalia exposed next to the stuffed dog," said Crown attorney John Peden. "While the police report doesn't describe it this way, the dog might be appropriately characterized as now being anatomically correct, as opposed to its condition before he removed it."
That's right, baby, he bored a hole in the stuffed dog. The story didn't specify WITH WHAT, but I'm betting his richard had fuzz on it.
In his defense, it WAS plush.
The saga continues.
Judge Charles Newcombe, who apparently was NOT amused, said the "unusual circumstances" of the incident justified an order that the man provide police with a DNA sample.
So let me get this straight.
They swabbed the stuffed dog's NOW anatomically-correct box for DNA.
Why, yes, they did.
Eh.
Now, in my attempt to NOT judge, I'm gonna make amends.
That's right, I am.
So, for all youfucking pervs "PLUSH" lovers, here is my gift to you.
but he did.
Uh huh.
He sure as hell did.
So here's what happened.
Horny Drunk Dude broke into Garage A. Within minutes, he broke into Garage B (A's neighbor) where he stole a lawn mower, a mountain bike, a blanket and a stuffed toy dog. He then returned to Garage A, where the police found him 2 hours later passed out inside a boat. That's right, a boat.
If ONLY Horny Drunk Dude would have left it at burglarizing shit...
But, nooooooo, he just HAD to get his groove on.
"He was lying there with his genitalia exposed next to the stuffed dog," said Crown attorney John Peden. "While the police report doesn't describe it this way, the dog might be appropriately characterized as now being anatomically correct, as opposed to its condition before he removed it."
That's right, baby, he bored a hole in the stuffed dog. The story didn't specify WITH WHAT, but I'm betting his richard had fuzz on it.
In his defense, it WAS plush.
The saga continues.
Judge Charles Newcombe, who apparently was NOT amused, said the "unusual circumstances" of the incident justified an order that the man provide police with a DNA sample.
So let me get this straight.
They swabbed the stuffed dog's NOW anatomically-correct box for DNA.
Why, yes, they did.
Eh.
Now, in my attempt to NOT judge, I'm gonna make amends.
That's right, I am.
So, for all you
Ah, yes, for those of you who want your hoo-hoo to smell divine while boinking, here is Hot Hugs Lion
the aromatherapy fuck. NOT LYING HERE...
And certainly we must not forget the ever-popular and enduring fundie fuck.
Ahhhhhh
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: :)
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
THE TREAT JAR
So my current sister-in-law is an extremely gracious and polite woman, and when she walked into my son's house today, she gave my daughter-in-law a beautiful glass thingie of some kind and she handed me a GORGEOUS ceramic cookie jar.
Wow!
I never, EVER, think of bringing a GIFT to the hostess, but hey, my sister in law has good manners, you know?
Anyhoo, it got me to thinking about my one & ONLY involvement with the PTA (is it still called that?) back when my daughter was like in the 3rd or 4th grade, something like that.
She became obsessed with me joining the PTA, just like every other Mommy in the entire elementary school.
So to get her to shut up, I did.
Now, in case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not exactly your typical PTA Mama. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I NEVER went to one of their meetings.
However
I did consent to participate in their annual money raise-a-thon thingie by contributing some stuff to their big 2-day sale.
And wouldn't you know it, they wanted HOMEMADE craft-y shit, too.
So I came up with this brilliant idea.
I had TONS of these
Wow!
I never, EVER, think of bringing a GIFT to the hostess, but hey, my sister in law has good manners, you know?
Anyhoo, it got me to thinking about my one & ONLY involvement with the PTA (is it still called that?) back when my daughter was like in the 3rd or 4th grade, something like that.
She became obsessed with me joining the PTA, just like every other Mommy in the entire elementary school.
So to get her to shut up, I did.
Now, in case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not exactly your typical PTA Mama. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I NEVER went to one of their meetings.
However
I did consent to participate in their annual money raise-a-thon thingie by contributing some stuff to their big 2-day sale.
And wouldn't you know it, they wanted HOMEMADE craft-y shit, too.
So I came up with this brilliant idea.
I had TONS of these
laying around and I decided it would be "DIFFERENT" if I did some sort of "DOG" decoration on the jars and then filled them with
which I did.
Now this is what I did. I painted a couple of DOGS on the jar, wrote the words "DOG TREATS" in big black letters on the jar, and then made a dough top thingie with one of those humongous Alpo dog biscuits stuck on it. I covered the dough top thingie with the Alpo dog biscuit in shellac. Made it rock ass hard.
THEN, I filled the jars with DOG TREATS.
Later, at the sale....
Those things were selling like hotcakes. I mean, they were FLYING off the table.
EVERYBODY loved 'em.
Except
This One Bitch.
She stomped up to my table and threw an EMPTY DOG TREAT jar down on my table.
This One Bitch: "I demand a refund."
Me: "OK. Did your dog not like the treats or something?"
This One Bitch: "My dog? What ARE you talking about?"
Me:
This One Bitch: "Let me tell me. I've bought many a homemade cookie at these events and yours were the WORST I've EVER tasted."
Me: "You know what? I'm gonna double your refund."
This One Bitch: "And why are you gonna do that?!?"
Me: "Cause I'm gonna be talking about your ass for years to come."
BWAAAAAAAA HAHAHHHAAAA HAHAHAA!
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: This is "DOC'S" pick. Hiya, Doc!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
THE ASS STICKERS
Surely you didn't think I was gonna write a sappy, cumbaya-type let's be thankful for what we have post for Turkey Day.
Did you?
Hell, no. You know me way better than that by now.
So here's the deal.
This post is about Ass Stickers.
No, not this kind.
Did you?
Hell, no. You know me way better than that by now.
So here's the deal.
This post is about Ass Stickers.
No, not this kind.
This kind.
That's right. These bitches from hell right here.
Now you city folk may not know what a sticker is.
Let me tell ya. See those little pointed needle-looking spikes there?
Well, picture those puppies stuck in your skin. Your feet, your hands, your legs, your arms. Stickers are EVERYWHERE out in the country. You take a step OFF the manicured grass, you WILL BE walking in a sticker patch.
Now try to imagine said stickers stuck in your ass.
OK, here's what happened.
You men have this MARVELOUS thing called BOXERS you get to wear. We women have panties we wear.
So the other day right after my shower, I was reaching for my cotton bikini panties to put on when I glanced over to where Hubby has his clean boxers.
And I thought, hmmmmmm.
Now why couldn't I just, you know, BORROW a pair for the day?
No reason that I could see, so I did.
OMFG!!!
The freedom is phenom! Nevermind that they BARELY hung on to my little ass, but that's not the point.
Here's the point.
So I'm like WoooooooHooooooo!!'ng around totally digging NOT having cotton bikini panties on and after running around outside for a bit (I don't have neighbors, so don't think I was out flashing anybody). After a bit, I came back inside and walked over to my desk, sat down and clicked on this page.
Yada, yada.
A few minutes later....
WHAT THE FUCK IS STICKING ME IN MY ASS CRACK?!?!???
So these BORROWED boxers are loose enough that I could just reach under and pull 'em to the side and look, you know?
So I did. And guess what I found right there in the BOXER ASS CRACK SEAM?
Why, yes, a fucking STICKER!
So I'm threading it outta the ass crack seam (pricked my finger, too) and finally worked that bitch out and tossed it in my ashtray on my desk.
And I settled back in for some quality time on the computer.
WHAT THE FUCK IS STICKING ME IN MY ASS CRACK?!?!??? AGAIN?!?!?
Repeated the pull to the side, yada yada thing, and sure enough, ANOTHER fucking sticker in the ass crack seam.
At this point, I'm like, Oh.HELL.No.
Yanked those things off, put on MY proper underwear, and Googled Big Dog.
YES!!!
Women's BOXERS!!
Pink, too!
I dig pink.
Yes, those are my PINK Timberland HIKERS.
So the question remains.
How in the HELL did those stickers get in the ass crack seam of the boxers?
You know what?
I don't want to know.
Some things are just best left in the realm of The Great Unknown.
Oh, and btw
Happy Turkey Day!
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: THE best slow-dancing song EVER!! Am I right or am I right? :)
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
THE DAY BEFORE THE TURKEY
You know, I was gonna do a post on 2 Texas legends, then changed my mind when I opened Blogger.
Instead, let's concentrate on our day AFTER Thanksgiving shopping for a bargain, yes?
Ah, yes, Black Friday.
The day when the unwashed masses descend upon the stores to raid & plunder and make off with the spoils.
Except....
when us SHOPPERS get a fuckin' like this.
Instead, let's concentrate on our day AFTER Thanksgiving shopping for a bargain, yes?
Ah, yes, Black Friday.
The day when the unwashed masses descend upon the stores to raid & plunder and make off with the spoils.
Except....
when us SHOPPERS get a fuckin' like this.
Click on it.
Note the "WAS" price and the SALE PRICE.
Why, yes, this Horizon treadmill, sold at Sears, cost $598.97 BEFORE it *ahem* WENT ON SALE for $599.88.
Let me see if I get this straight.
I endure the alarm clock going off at 3 a.m., traffic jams FROM HELL, getting stomped, pushed, shoved, having things YANKED outta my hands by other shoppers, sore feet, hostile store clerks, famine, thirst so overwhelming I would gladly drink my own piss, and a possible stint in a Texas prison simply because I whip out my revolver and POINT it at some ASSHOLE who STOLE my parking spot, all so I can pay 91¢ MORE than if I went shopping for a Horizon treadmill the day BEFORE Thanksgiving.
Do I have that right?
Why, yes, I do believe I do.
Oh, speaking of having something right....
SIZE DOES MATTER.
Just watch it, then come talk to me.
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: And now, for the best collaboration ever! Aerosmith & Run DMC - "Walk This Way" YEAH!
Monday, November 19, 2007
HOME OF THE CHAD (HANGING, THAT IS)...
....Land of the Idiots.
What the hell is it with the peeps down in Florida?
Too much sunshine?
Too many Cuba Libras?
What????
Well, OK, if you lived in a state that looked like
I guess you might beBug.Fuck.Crazy slightly daffy, too.
Well, not really.
Just cause you live in a state that looks like Gorbachev's Turismo does not grant you license to go seriously stupid.
Or maybe it does.
Who knows?
So here's the deal.
Residents of Baker County, Florida, were in a tizzy when they were CONVINCED an orangutan was on the loose and prowling the neighborhoods.
That's right.
An ORANGUTAN.
So in comes the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission to trap some orangutan ass.
Their bait?
Doughnuts at the base of the "ORANGUTAN" tree, of course.
Turns out, the ORANGUTAN was nothing more than a fox squirrel.
That's right.
A FOX SQUIRREL.
Which residents of Baker County had alternately described as an ORANGUTAN and/or a "BIG ORANGE BALL OF FUR."
Let's examine this issue a tad closer, shall we?
Orangutan
Fox Squirrel
Big Orange Ball of Fur
Why, yes, I can certainly understand the confusion.
Can't you?
Sunshine State, my ass.
:)
What the hell is it with the peeps down in Florida?
Too much sunshine?
Too many Cuba Libras?
What????
Well, OK, if you lived in a state that looked like
I guess you might be
Well, not really.
Just cause you live in a state that looks like Gorbachev's Turismo does not grant you license to go seriously stupid.
Or maybe it does.
Who knows?
So here's the deal.
Residents of Baker County, Florida, were in a tizzy when they were CONVINCED an orangutan was on the loose and prowling the neighborhoods.
That's right.
An ORANGUTAN.
So in comes the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission to trap some orangutan ass.
Their bait?
Doughnuts at the base of the "ORANGUTAN" tree, of course.
Turns out, the ORANGUTAN was nothing more than a fox squirrel.
That's right.
A FOX SQUIRREL.
Which residents of Baker County had alternately described as an ORANGUTAN and/or a "BIG ORANGE BALL OF FUR."
Let's examine this issue a tad closer, shall we?
Orangutan
Fox Squirrel
Big Orange Ball of Fur
Why, yes, I can certainly understand the confusion.
Can't you?
Sunshine State, my ass.
:)
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: "Losing Time"
Saturday, November 17, 2007
A SHORT STORY - BIKE LOVE
A
in
has been placed on
years
for
a
That's right.
For sexually
'ga
The
was busted by 2 workers in his
room.
He was wearing a
and nothing else
while he was
the
The
workers were thusly
The
was also placed on theSex Offenders Registry for
years
so no other
in
need suffer the shame and degradation of being
by the
When asked for their reaction, the
of
replied,"While we sympathize with the molested bicycle, we can say with glee,
'Better thee be shagged than we!'"
B-a-a-a-a-a-a
And now, a poem to celebrate love.
"The Chained Melody" by Hill
The cops kicked in the door
And what did they see
Why, me spilling my seed
In my lovely 10-speed.
Stroking the spoke
Diddling the sprocket
It felt a sight better
Than a hole in my pocket.
They ordered me to stop
They begged me to convert
Alas, now I'm just
A registered pervert.
© 2007 HillCountryGal
Note: I dedicate this song to Bikeman and his Ride. "Sometimes When We Touch"
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