Sorry fellas, but I’m taken… (a video blog book trailer)

When you watch this video, you’re going to fall into one of two camps:

1) You will be a man and find yourself kicking yourself for not having found me before I met and married my husband; or,

2) You will be a woman and find yourself taking notes on how someone can be as glamorous and classy as I.

I’m just kidding, you’re going to think I’m a slovenly hillbilly with zero class and a complete lack of manners. If you do, the point will have been made.

For the record, I never realized this, but belching loudly is actually a really hard thing to do. At least for me.

Are you intrigued enough to watch the video?

Hurry up and watch before I lose my gumption and take it down. I mean the Internet is – like – forever-ever, and this is perhaps the most humiliating public display I have ever made, and on so many levels.

In case you missed the memo, I have another humor book coming out, March 1st. Prepare yourselves with this book trailer…

A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale

So as I mentioned yesterday, we are housesitting for my dad. Sort of as a last minute decision, we decided to have a garage sale of our things we wanted to get rid of, as well as to let the oft-promised lemonade stand finally come to pass. Really I think garage sales are the most disgusting things ever, but we did it for the lemonade stand. This had to be done at my dad’s house eventually, unless we wanted to be like those apartment dwellers that hang up their WARES AND LEMONADE FOR SALE on the nearby STOP sign – and we figured this weekend was easiest so we wouldn’t be bothering my dad at all.

But I wasn’t just going to have a plain old, humdrum garage sale. That would be too normal. I decided, instead, to make it as absolutely hillbilly as possible. I decided to make it an A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale.


Of course we put signs around, and to be honest our signs were pretty badass. They were large and on foam core board. About 1/2 way into them being made, though, I realized that this was far too classy for my A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale, so I decided to post an ad on Craigslist too.

It read:

A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale

I’m just kidding. Unless Uncle Cletus shows up unannounced and with his banjo, it is unlikely there will be any “a hootin’ and a hollerin'” at this garage sale. Of course there will be, though, if you find our WARES FOR SALE so spectacular that you yelp and shout uncontrollably out of sheer, second-hand finds ecstasy.

Have you ever been to a garage sale and felt like you needed to shower after you got home?

Ever picked through a pile of items strewn about in someone’s front yard and gotten some sort of unidentified, gelatinous gunk on your hands?

Was there ever a time when you saw an item you actually wanted, but it was in such disrepair that you thought your dollar might be better spent on that rotten potato you saw at the Farmer’s Market that no one wants, despite its striking resemblance to Rick Moranis?

You will have none of those problems at our garage sale, this Saturday in East Ventura.

We have:

Kid’s Clothing (Sizes 2T — 5T, 6 and 6X)
Kid’s Toys
Baby supplies (Strollers, Highchairs, Baby toys)
Books galore
Adult’s Clothing (Women’s Sizes M-L, Men’s Size S)
Lawn furniture

. . .. And much more

Also featured, we will be  selling lemonade and baked goods. For 25 cents you can procure yourself a glass of the freshest lemonade this side of the Conejo Grade, whilst perusing our used, yet in quality condition, WARES FOR SALE. I have included a PhotoShop of Rick Moranis holding our lemonade sign in hopes this will entice you to come.

Hope you can come out. Leave Uncle Cletus and the banjo at home.

The Sale

We basically just threw everything into boxes and threw it out on the driveway. A few years ago when I was working in politics, I helped with a garage sale fundraiser and they set everything up very nicely on tables, only to bring in about $100. In just two hours, my worthless shit spewed around on the lawn made me over $170.

Possibly the classiest part of the event was when my mother showed up. That’s right, my Trailer Trash Mom came to help out – being trailer trash and all, garage sales are her thing, and when she called to mention that she was leaving for New Mexico next week, I happened to mention the sale in jest. She brought some of her own things to sell, not a single one of which did. And in the defining moment of the event, she set them up on display on a turned-over Poise Pantyshields box she had gotten out of the dumpster at my grandma and grandpa’s assisted living apartment complex.

Yes, faithful blog followers, you read that right. A Poise Pantyshield box dug out of a dumpster to display her mugs and miscellaneous wares.

She also hit on every cotton-pickin’ hillbilly that came up to the event, and tried to start picking through the neighbor’s dumpster. You see, my dad’s neighbors recently got a divorce and the nasty bitch that got to keep the house ordered the largest dumpster known to mankind to throw out the ex-husband’s stuff. He showed up during our garage sale and they started fighting; then he helped throw out the trash as he attempted to haul away things he wanted to keep. My mother, being the trailer trash that she is, confirmed that she will be returning tonight to jump into the dumpster and pick out the things she wants.

So that was it – my A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale. The last time I attended a garage sale as a purchaser, I was looking for an antique typewriter (which I found), but felt the same way I do right now: like never participating in one again. I also need to take a shower to wash this hillbilly brawl filth off before it seeps in and I start losing teeth.

My Trailer Trash Mom

So today I was just sitting around, minding my own business, and my mother called. This – by definition – can never be good. Lately her hillbilly shit has been spreading itself all over the walls of my life. Today it wasn’t hillbilly shit, though. It was actually worse: Mothers Day Mayhem.

The conversation went something like this:

My Trailer Trash Mom

“Heeeeeeeather, how ya’ dooooin?”


“Fine” (thinking to myself ‘Oh God, she wants something’)

My Trailer Trash Mom

“So … we’re going to be having a little party at the assisted living apartments for Grandma on Mother’s Day and I want to get you guys here for it. It’ll be at noon and we’ll all be bringing something.”


“Oh, okay, let me just check the schedule with Nick and let you know later today.”

My Trailer Trash Mom

“Okay … and then you can let me know what you’ll be bringing so that everyone else can plan around it.”

… at this point, I’m sure you are all thinking wait, what the fuck? Yes, I was thinking that as well. So I said:


“Oh … kay … well, what is the main dish going to be?”

My Trailer Trash Mom

“See … that’s the thing, we were thinking you could make the main dishes since you have that new multi cooker, and are such a good cook now.”

Long Pause

My Trailer Trash Mom

“Are you still there?”


“Yes.” (I’m speechless at this point.)

My Trailer Trash Mom

“And we were hoping you’d make another one of those cakes you made for Grandma and Grandpa’s anniversary too.”

Putting all of this unbelievable and ballsy bull shit to the side for a moment, let me tell you faithful blog followers about the cake she is referring to. It was a marbled chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet cake with a homemade waffle cone garnish. The cake – because of the complexity of making all three flavors from scratch, as well as the waffle cone and frostings from scratch, AS WELL AS marbling it, took me a total of six hours to make. It was – by far – the greatest, most delicious cake I have ever made, but I vowed after that day to never bake that cake again, just because of how much work it was.

Back to my trailer trash mother, I quickly got off the phone with her, telling her I would have to think about it.

Then about two hours later, I was fuming over the entire ordeal, and conflicted because I know that if I were to not make the meal, my trailer trash mother and her trailer trash family would ostracize me and cause a terrible amount of trailer trash drama because “Heather’s always too good for our family…” Sitting in the parent-section of swimming, fuming and conflicted, I was thirty seconds away from calling my mother and saying “no,” and then she walked up. That’s right: my trailer trash mother showed up at the kiddo’s swimming class so as to seal the deal on the Mothers Day Mayhem.

I will spare you all the details of her ongoing drama about my grandma having a colonoscopy and how this will just be so nice for her. I will spare you her passive aggressively reminding me how little time I spent with her family while I was in graduate school. I will spare you the detail of how she manipulated me by reminding me that she will be returning to her hillbilly husband and their hillbilly trailer in hillbilly New Mexico within the next month. I will just cut to the chase, and the point where I am sure the majority of you will lose an enormous amount of respect for this, here bitch (if you haven’t already, that is)…

My Trailer Trash Mom

“So? … will you do it?”



I’m even going to make the cake.

Go ahead, lose respect for me. Call me a sucker. Call me a push over. I agree with it all completely. I don’t even know why I gave in to my trailer trash mother and her hillbilly Mothers Day Mayhem. But I did. Maybe a part of me does feel bad for how little time I spent with her side of the family during graduate school. Maybe I am a push over. Or maybe it really is as I said to her (after getting over being angry at her and myself): this is the last time I do this. I know, you faithful blog followers all say ‘yeah right, you’ll do it again.’ But, really, since she’s returning to her man, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.

I will now hang my head in shame.

Slumiky Backwoodsman

I’m sorry…for a while I tried to embrace the whole obsession that purveyors of the Internet seem to have with the Sons of the Soil. You know who I’m talking about: local yokels, slumiky backwoodsman, hillbillies, hill rods, goat ropers, rednecks, white trash, country bumpkins; people who are business up front and party in the back, mountain williams.

But for reals, what is the deal? Every day I log in to my Site Stats (obsessively, I will admit … I’m an attention whore of the worst kind), and new search terms pop up, many of which fall under one of two categories: (1) pornography, or (2) hillbillies. So I’ve decided to respond to a few of the searches from the last few days in hopes that I might answer the questions that burn at the hearts and minds of the general public about all things trailer trash.

But I still don’t get it.

Redneck Food

I’m not sure why someone would Google search this, unless of course they were either entertaining people they felt to be rednecks (and wanted them to feel at home…errr, trailer), or trying to figure out if they were eating foods actually considered for hillbillies. I know people always joke about how people of a trailer trash persuasion eat road kill and raccoons, but I don’t actually know if that really happens. I mean… wouldn’t they get really sick?

In any event, there are a few things that I consider to be redneck food, although what do I know? We eat three course meals every night simply because if we didn’t I would probably drink even more than I already do out of sheer boredom. And it’s usually pretty yuppy-ish food because my husband is a complete food snob (he is a hipster…the worst kind of hillbilly, I know).

1. Cream cheese covered in salsa with crackers for dipping. I’ve never actually eaten this but have been to parties where the host joked about how that was an appetizer for rednecks that she actually loved. I’ve seen it at this girl’s parties quite a few times, but rarely has anyone touched it.

2. Chitlins. What the fuck are chitlins?

3. Anything from Kentucky Fried Chicken. I know, everyone loves KFC, but whether you love it or not, it’s hillbilly food. I don’t eat at KFC unless I really want corn on the cob and am too lazy to cook it. The most quintessential white trash thing to do is to head to a pot luck, where everyone is bringing home cooked dishes, and someone comes in and slaps down a 10-piece bucket of legs and thighs. Trailer. Trash.

4. That new grilled cheese sandwich from Denny’s that has mozzarella cheese sticks fried into the inside of the sandwich. Holy God is this thing disgusting.

5. Biscuits made from the dust off the floor. This is no joke, faithful blog followers. During the Great Depression, all the Oakies that were trying to make it out West, yet starving in the process, would sweep up the dust off the floor of their cars and mix it with the little flour and water they had to make biscuits. I dated a guy a long time ago whose grandmother had grown up during this time, and swore it was still a perfectly acceptable thing to do.

Hillbilly on a toilet

I addressed this a long time ago in my blog on Toilet Humor, and yet almost every week some weirdo is out there looking for photographs of a hillbilly on a toilet. Well I will indulge you perverts one more time…

And for those of you unaware, there are still people that use or at least have outhouses. When my parents got divorced, my mom moved to Olympia, WA but worked in this little, dinky town called Matlock. Every summer and winter break until I graduated from high school, I had to spend my time hanging around that God awful place while my mom worked. Quickly, I learned that Matlock consisted of only three things: (1) a general store that served as the “Matlock Mall,” (2) a K – 12 school (where my mother worked), and (3) a bunch of people that lived in the woods and had outhouses.

Redneck trans am

WTF does this even mean? Do rednecks only drive Trans Ams? Well I had to do a little bit of research on this one because to be honest I didn’t even know what a fucking Trans Am was. Rednecks are not the only people that drive Trans Ams, however you are most definitely a redneck if you replace the tires on your Trans Am with monster truck tires like this:

This is perhaps the stupidest shit I have ever seen in my life. Hands down.

Hillbilly Holidays

We’ve discussed this before, particularly when I outlined for everyone how to truly have a Hillbilly Thanksgiving. Now I’m not sure if the person that was Googling this search terms was looking for how to have holidays that already exist be redneckesque, or if mountain williams have their own set of holidays not celebrated (or even recognized for that matter) by the general public. Unless there is some secret I am unaware of relative to the National Rifle Association or hunting season, I do not believe that hillbillies have their own special holidays. However I am now compelled to write a blog in the near future on how to celebrate Valentine’s Day like a true local yokel.

True story of a hillbilly fuck fest

I don’t even know where to go with this, faithful blog followers. I really don’t know. Do hillbillies have “fuck fests?” And what exactly is a “fuck fest?” Is this like an orgy? I imagine it would be interesting, given the lack of teeth and the whole being cool with doing your sister and all, but what in God’s name would someone get out of searching for something like this?

And more importantly, why did it lead them to my blog? Really, why would any of these lead people to my blog? Oh, humanity…

Get a Little Cray Cray

Do you see the crazy in my eyes, there, faithful blog followers?  While it’s definitely there, it’s not the kind of crazy that I am looking for right now.  The other day I saw someone post on Facebook “What’s going down tonight – I feel like getting cray cray!”  And I realized that I don’t get cray cray, faithful blog followers.  I just don’t.  I think this picture is the most cray cray I have ever gotten, actually:  a trip to the family pumpkin farm.  There were animals (gross!), hay stacks everywhere (grosser!), and my feet got dirty.  The wildness hit a fever pitch when I ate not one, but two all natural frozen lime fruit bars and the event was so off the hook that I had to take a nap, cozied up in the passenger seat of my father’s car, the entire way home.  This is my idea of a wild time.  No jokes, no joshing – I really don’t get cray cray.

But after seeing that Facebook post, as well as getting a taste of the wild side when I did my Dress Like a Hipster post a few weeks ago, I developed a longing deep within to get a little cray cray myself.  I’m not talking barn animals and frozen fruit bars cray cray, faithful blog followers.  I’m talking acting borderline insane, just for the fun of it.

The caveat is that I have no true idea what it is to get cray cray.  I really think a trip to the family pumpkin farm is letting loose.  So let’s do another B(itch) poll to see what you, faithful blog followers, would like to see this lady do to Get a Little Cray Cray.

You will note, all of the polls harken back to a prior blog post of mine – from the one about Tom Skilling to the hillbillies, even all the way back to duckface.  Nothing wrong with a little shameless self-promotion, right?  And anyway, I do have my issues that make that crazy look in my eyes all the crazier…

You can vote for more than one thing, you can also add your own!  So let’s Get a Little Cray Cray..

Introducing the Hillbilly Chronicles

What is the deal with people’s obsession with the unfortunate majority of our society that seems to always like their business in the front and the party in the back?  You know who I’m talking about … the overall-wearing, beat-up truck-driving, Coors-drinking, tooth-missing, sister-marrying, I-like-to-post-photographs-of-myself-on-the-toilet-on-the-Internet hillbillies.  Perhaps I’m stereotyping, but then ultimately classifying someone as such is really nothing more than applying stereotypes to a person in the first place.  So yeah, I’m talking about hillbillies.

Here’s the deal:  every day I check on my blog stats and included in the daily WordPress report is a list of things people searched for that brought them to my blog.  I think I have blogged about “hillbilly” topics twice, maybe three times at most.  And yet, the most popular search terms on a day-in, day-out basis are relative to hillbillies, rednecks, trailer trash, white trash, and the like.  Shockingly, the most popular hillbilly-related searches are tied at “hillbilly shit” and “hillbilly marries sister.”  It is unprecedented how many times people search those exact terms, thus I have to ask:  what is the obsession with hillbillies?

Is it because nine out of ten hillbillies have a haircut that both (a) was out of style in the early 80s, and (b) is known to look horrible, and yet still worn.  I’m talking, of course, about the mullet.  There really is no way you can do a mullet right.  I can’t even understand, really, why so many people still have them.  And sometimes they just look so awful you have to just wonder:  do these people think they’re being funny?  Take this kid for example.  Is it possible that when this kid got his hair cut he actually was being serious?  Look at him!  It doesn’t even make sense!  On the very top it’s buzzed but then in the very front he has partial bangs.  In the back he has the ultimate of mullet parties going on, and the sides have some shaved design.  A shaved design?  Does this kid not have parents?  The whole mullet thing in itself is an anomaly, so I can see why hillbillies would fascinate people.  This can’t be the sole reason for such popularity that hillbillies carry, though, for if it were then people would have been searching “mullet” rather than “hillbilly.”  The mullet may be a big part of it, but it certainly isn’t the crux of it all.

How about the outlandish things that hillbillies do, like marry their sisters and post photographs online of themselves on the toilet – is it that?  You even start to type “hillbilly” into Google Image search and by the “…bi…” you’ve got photo after photo of those people sitting on the toilet popping up on your screen.  It doesn’t end there – they’ve even begun taking videos of themselves on the can and posting them on Youtube, and seem to be on a search to find the most bizarre places possible that they can plant said can for use.  As I said, the one that shows up frequently in the search terms on my blog site statistics is “hillbilly marries sister.”  There are even interesting variations that show up:  “toothless hillbilly marries sister;” “hillbilly marries pregnant sister;” and even “hillbilly marries sister with shotgun in hand and overalls falling down.”  While it’s possible that the outlandish behaviors of the trashier members of our community is the cause of such unprecedented popularity on my blog, I’m pretty sure that this alone isn’t the driving force behind the obsession either.  I think the proof for that lies in the other most prevalent search term that leads people to my blog “hillbilly shit.”

It’s gotta’ be the hillbilly shit.  I know I’ve dropped the s-bomb enough times on this post to ensure I never make it on WordPress’s Freshly Pressed, but it’s important to dissect this oft-searched term in finding the truth behind the Hillbilly Chronicles.  The search term “hillbilly shit” has shown up enough times on my site statistics that either there is one person out there so obsessed with my blog that (after realizing the term would result in my site), they keep typing it in for the sake of finding my blog; or, much more likely, a lot of people truly hold an air of “I’m better than that hillbilly shit.”  I think it’s the latter.  I think that people are so obsessed with hillbilly culture because they think of themselves as better than it.  Have you ever searched online for the definitions or pictures of something for the sole purpose of justifying that you are not, in fact, it?  That’s what the proponents of the “hillbilly shit” search are doing.  And why wouldn’t they think they are better when 9 out of 10 are walking around with ridiculous hairdos; and many more act in ways that leave one thinking what was that guy thinking?!  Whether it is from truth or not, hillbillies are associated with everything our society doesn’t want:  unemployment, welfare, teenage pregnancy, incest, unattractiveness, drunk driving, and Wal-mart.  Now while it is most certainly unfair to peg all hillbillies as (in most cases) degenerates to society (and believe you me, I know a lot of hillbillies that are not, and yet still are unambiguously hillbillies), it should then come as no surprise that people search in an effort to remind themselves of what they are not.

That may be the more pejorative way to look at it:  finding the bad in people, rather than the sheer possibility of fun that can come of just looking at pictures of mullets and reading about another incestuous shot-gun wedding.  Whatever it may be, hillbillies are a popular topic, one this blogger cannot ignore.  As it normally goes when you sell your soul for the sake of ratings, I cannot deny the readers what they want.  All-things-hillbilly can now be found under their own tab on my Homepage:  The Hillbilly Chronicles.  Check back frequently for updates, old posts, and all the mullets and overalls you can handle.