TWLE...

...OR "How The British Are Nailing Diabetes"

So the British are light-years ahead of the rest of the world in treating diabetes.

Specifically, diabetic comas.

Here's what they've discovered.

If you have a seizure and lapse into a diabetic coma while riding a public bus, British 5-O is called.

Not sure if the British call 'em 5-O's or not.

Prolly not.

More like Arse-O's.

Anyhoo, the British Arse-O's are medically trained to deal with someone in a diabetic coma.

Not lying here.

You know what they do?

They taser your diabetic coma arse.

Not once.

TWICE.

Apparently, it shocks the sugars back to the normal range.

Well, you know how it is.

If you can STOP the heart by tasering and then maybe restart it with the 2nd tasering, voila!

Everything, including hypoglycemia, sorta automatically readjusts.

But here's the kicker.

The dude who was TASERED TWICE while in a diabetic coma was TASERED TWICE because, in addition to being in a diabetic coma, British police thought

Diabetic Coma dude looked EGYPTIAN.

That's right, baby.

TWLE.

Tasered While Looking Egyptian.

And you know what?

They were spot on, too!

Well, look for yourself.

I mean, the resemblance just makes you all shivery and shit, yes?

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Drive

FALL IN THE HILL COUNTRY

Welcome to Fall in the Hill Country.

Here is the ONLY tree The Beautiful Elena could find to photograph in this area that is fall-ish.

That's it.

You guys have a great Saturday, you hear?

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Holding out for a Hero. :)

THINGS THAT SPEAK TO ME

:)

Woman's Speedometer

Oh yeah, baby!

These were sent to me by my friend, El Gothico Espagnol, the one, the only, the magnificently original Expat Goth.

Do yourself a HUGE favor, will ya? Stop in and say "Hola!" to him. And just to annoy him and cause him great anxiety, tell him Hill sent ya.

Be forewarned. He speaks that fancy English, you know, the kind they speak across The Big Pond.

He says things like "wankers" and "arse."

Oh, and he talks about his sex life a lot.

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Bonnie!

THE 10

"Relaxation" - photo courtesy of The Beautiful Elena

So Liberality tagged me.

Now before we get started here, you simply MUST click on the link and read her
NO. 3.

READ IT.

Then come back here and be totally bored outta your mind when you read the 10 things you didn't know about me.

BWAAAAAAAAHAHAAAAA!!

OK, one more thing about Liberality's No. 3.

IF that had EVER happened to me, I would have been in the hospital for a week, IV fluids pumping into my veins. Dehydration, baby!!

No. 1: If I like you, I will go ANYWHERE with you and do ANYTHING with you. Qualifier: If you ask me to rob a 7-11 with you, I ain't going. Ditto on if you ask me to shoot meth or heroin in my veins. Ain't gonna happen. Besides, I wouldn't LIKE YOU in the first place if you did those things.

OK, back to the ANYWHERE/ANYTHING thingie.

The other day Hubby was bitching 'cause he wanted to go a strip club and his buds weren't "allowed" to go.

Me: "What do you mean they're not 'allowed' to go?"

Hubby: "Wife/Girlfriend won't let 'em."

Me: "OK. Hmmmmm. Then go by yourself."

Well.

I musta violated some kind of MAN RULE there. Apparently, MEN can't go to a strip club by themselves. It is a requirement that somebody go with them.

Hubby: "Are you outta your mind? By myself???"

Me: "OK, fine. I'll go with you."

Hubby: "What???"

Me: "I'll go with you."

Apparently, that also violated another MAN RULE.

MAN RULE: NEVER, but NEVER, take your WIFE with you to a strip club.

Hubby: "OMFG!! You want me to die, don't you?"

Me: "No. Why?"

Hubby: "You must want me to die of sheer humiliation."

Me: "How so?"

Hubby: "You just offered to go to a STRIP CLUB with me."

Me: "And?"

Hubby: "You know what? I just lost all desire to go. Wanna watch 'House Hunters' instead?"

ROTFLMAO!!!

Well, I would of gone, you know......

:)

No. 2: If you're a MAN, and you want to argue with me about BULLSHIT, I WILL go for your Achilles' Heel. Oh, yeah, I sure as hell will.

Here's the deal.

When I get pissed, it's INTENSELY pissed. Likewise, it's over with within minutes. Literally minutes.

I don't know what it is about dudes that they want to argue about shit that happened 40 YEARS AGO or some some crap.

I can't remember what I did LAST WEEK and dudes expect me to remember some minor-ass BULLSHIT from EONS AGO? Ain't gonna happen.

I ALWAYS give fair warning.

Me: "Enough. Back off. Now."

Man: "Wah, wah, wahahaa, wah, wah."

Me: "You're fixing to go down for the count. Trust me on this. Now back off!"

Man: 'Wah, wah, wahah, wah wah."

Me: "OK, I don't want to hear no crying now, are you listening to me?"

Man: "Wah, wahwhahaha, waaaaahh."

Me: "Your DICK SUCKS ASS!!! I've been FAKING IT!"

Man:

Whether it sucks ass or I've been faking it or not is NOT THE POINT. It's USUALLY a blatant lie on my part. The point is that is a SUREFIRE stop'em-in-their-tracks and "THERE'S NOT ONE DAMN THING YOU CAN SAY NOW? CAN YOU BITCH?" argument stopper. Do white women do that or is that just a Latina woman thingie?

:)

No. 3: When I was in my 30's, I had a 21-year-old BOY TOY. Sorry. I did. WELL??? Look, he was a GORGEOUS blonde California surfer reporter dude and he followed me around like a lovesick puppy. So tell me you WOULDN'T have enjoyed that!!! Go ahead, tell me and I will call you a big fat liar!

:)

No. 4: Every April 17 I grieve for my most loved of all my pets, my beloved Maltese, Chelsea.

She died on April 17, 2003, at the age of 14. She had been my shadow since she was 6 weeks old.

Grover here (much to my daughter's consternation as Grover was HER stuffed animal) became the object of Chelsea's horniness affection.

Chelsea molested Grover into deformity. No chin, flat legs. True love is blind, yes?

:)

No. 5: I think my grandson Holden has THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GREEN EYES IN THE WORLD.


While my grandson, Alex (yes, he of the "Buns Of Steel" fame) is, without a doubt, one of THE MOST HILARIOUS AND GOOD-NATURED KIDS IN THE WORLD!


No. 6: The summer she was 17, Angie, my daughter's best friend in high school, stayed with us a couple of weeks.

I made her date show me his driver's license, which I promptly copied and faxed to my brother, the cop.

Look, I didn't know HER DATE and he was A MAN, not a boy.

Angie's Date: "So nice to meet you. I've heard lots of good things about you."

Me: "Yeah. Lemme see your driver's license."

Angie's Date: "Beg your pardon?"

Me: "License. If you want to go out with her, Hand.Me.Your.Driver's.License.Now."

Angie's Date: "Yes, Ma'am."

Well, OK, THIS is Angie.

Uh huh. That's what I thought.

:)

No. 7: I slit a mouse's throat, ear to little bitty ear, with a pocket knife.

Well, that little fucker had the NERVE to run over my baby son's chest when he was 6 weeks old and laying in bed beside me taking his morning nap.

The instant I saw it, I slapped that bitch so hard it hit the wall opposite the bed and promptly fell to the ground, stunned to all get out.

I calmly got up, reached over for my pocket knife that was on the bed stand, opened it, knelt down on the floor beside that prone little fucker, lifted his head back, stuck the tip in, and slice! No quarter. No mercy. No regrets.

No. 8: I sold Hubby No. 2's prized Flintlock "Kentucky" pistol for $50. It was valued at over $3,000. I sold it at the pawn shop. No, I didn't pawn it. I SOLD IT. He kept spending his ENTIRE paychecks on truck stop cuties and blue & clear's. My paycheck barely covered the rent. And I needed FOOD in the house. He cried like a little girl when I told him his pistol went bye-bye. He drove like a maniac to the Pawn Shop. They said they'd SELL IT BACK to him. For $3,000.

:)

No. 9: When I was 17, I played Bach's Prelude No. 1, Chopin's Waltz No. 1, Chopin's Prelude in C Minor, Chopin's Prelude in A, E. McDowell's "Shadow Dance," H. Grunn's "Tis Raining", Mozart's Sonata III, Rimsky-Korsakov's "Flight of the Bumblebee", and Brahms Waltz in A Flat. All by memory. All at the National Piano Playing Auditions. This is what is written on my certificate: "Much talent! You must continue study in college. Excellent sense of interpretation - feeling and color - warm rich tone. Dramatic sense and excellent style. All the qualifications for becoming a fine pianist."

:)

No. 10: This is my most prized possession.

It measures 30 x 22 inches, and was done by my daughter Sondi when she was 20. She won First Place in the National Crayola Big Kid Coloring Contest with Jimi here. It is done ENTIRELY in crayons. Her prize? A trip for 2 to New York City for 1 week. She took her brother.

:)

So that's my 10.

You know the drill.

Yours, please!

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: "Flight of the Bumble Bee"

THE NUT

So this dude up in Southworth, Washington, had been repairing a Lincoln Continental for 2 weeks.

He would of been finished but for one very stubborn lug nut on the right rear wheel.

That bitch just would not turn loose.

Voice inside Dude's head: "Say, I know how to do it."

Dude: "Tell."

Voice inside Dude's head: "Blast it, baby."

Dude: "Huh?"

Voice inside Dude's head: "You heard me. Blast that fucker."

Dude: "With what?"

Voice inside Dude's head: "Your 12-gauge, silly."

Dude: "Fucking-A! Why didn't I think of that?"

So Dude did.

That's right.

He took his

and shot the stubborn lug nut.

From ARM'S LENGTH.

Of course, buckshot and "debris" peppered him as high up as his CHIN.

Jacked his legs, too.

He "wasn't intoxicated," the police said.

Well, thankgawd for that!

If he'd of been "intoxicated," he might of, oh, I don't know, maybe done something stupid.

Or something.

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: I loved this song back in the day. Taylor Dane - "I'll Always Love You"

THE "YOU'RE SHITTING ME, RIGHT?"

So this may be the most arfy shortest post ever here at Hill Country.

Click on the pix.

Let your eyes roam over to the red bottle on the right.

'Nuff said.

OK, not quite.

One more thing.

*arf*

Actually, that sounds rather dainty and ladylike.

Let's try it again, shall we?

*projectile hurl!*

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Gloria!

THE DEPARTURE

So today I'm gonna do something just a little bit different around here.

Well, you'll see.

Do any of you know who this man is?
His name is Henry Maske.

I'm not a big boxing fan, but Maske's story is compelling and strangely beautiful, and I find myself drawn to it.

Maske was an East German, and was a five-time boxing champion of East Germany. He also won the gold medals at the 1988 Summer Olympics and the 1989 World Amateur Boxing Championships in Moscow and the silver medal at the 1986 World Amateur Boxing Championships in Reno.

When the Berlin Wall came down, Maske turned professional, and became world title holder (IBF) in the light heavyweight category, defending his title eleven times between 1993 and 1996.

In November, 1996, Maske fought his last bout against the American champion Virgil Hill. It was to be his final, glorious goodbye before retirement summoned him.

As Maske entered the arena one last time, Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman began singing this song, rewritten for him.



The arena, packed to capacity, exploded in thunderous applause.

Maske boxed.

He lost, on points, his final fight.

:)

© 2007 HillCountryGal