When A Ford And A Chevy……

This Merle song is an awesome commentary on today’s life in America. Here is my list of thoughts in no particular order or reason!

Hyphenated American labels: You know, Japanese, Chinese, African. Whatever happened to just being an American of “fill in the blank” decent.

Owning up to your bad choices, and not blaming your mamma, daddy, or position in life….or the color of your skin.

Calling bull crap when somebody says, or does something stupid. To a Christian Conservative like myself, “Stupid” has the same definition as “Porn”. Ya know it when you see it.

Giving thanks in public for the Man upstairs and not giving a rat’s rear what others think.

Buying pants that fit correctly, and don’t have stupid sayings on them. Goes for shirts too.

Not buying clothing that promotes communist or socialist revolutionaries.

Making fun of public figures that cry when they get rolled up for doing something stupid or illegal.

Not being ashamed to fail.

George Jones Passes: My BoomBox Buddy

This is a crusher, and I am not usually a affected by the death of a performer I never met. But George is different. Not only is he my favorite, but was my pop’s favorite too. Can’t tell ya how many beers I have guzzled listening to George’s songs.

Beer Shoes

While Beer Goggles grab all the fame and glory, Beer Shoes is the foundation of any professional beer drinker. Beer Shoes, from here on will be addressed as BS, does all the heavy lifting. They are the pair that gets you to the place beer is sold. Without BS, the fridge would not be stocked, and the ice chest would be for ever lonely.

My BS travel with me where ever I go. They relax in my golf bag during a round, resting up for the 19th hole. Were they gladly appear, replacing the heavy, and some time odorous golf shoes. To sit happily upon my flippers, watching me smoothly consume my frosty beverage buddies, one by one.

They also wait patiently in the trunk, while their owner works his digits to bone. When the light fills the trunk, and they are called into action, they don’t miss a beat. BS have dangers that lurk: gravel, dung, dirt, and the always terminal broken strap. The old saying “Don’t knock a fella til you walk a mile in his shoes” is a good one, but “Never forget the importance of BS” is great!

Another Foamie Friday

Yup, lets hear it for beer! I have been grinding all week. Three golf matches in extremely windy conditions…..well that ain’t the issue, try three golf matches where I was unable to drink beer afterwards due to the fact the school district does not allow coaches to drink and transport players! Give me the good ol’ days when I was in high school and my building construction teacher kept a twelve pack of Mille High Life bottles in his office fridge. I remember him sending to fetch him an ice pack, and he warned me not to touch his beer. While I did not touch em’, I did stand and stare at em’ like I had found a Playboy magazine. And my history teacher who kept a warm up bottle of bourbon for his morning coffee. Yes, the good old days.

Anyways, I am down to thirty-one working days, which means after today, I am down to six Fridays. Once vacation hits, everyday becomes foamie, and every hour is happy, and this Hillbilly is reminded why he graduated college: To weasel into a job that affords me my chosen lifestyle: Don’t work hard,and make just enough money to drink beer, golf, fish, hit the gym, bbq, and feed the dogs. This is also why God keeps me poor: He knows how dangerous a rich, non-working Hillbilly can be. Charlie Sheem is Charlie Brown compared to me:)

10 Or So Of My Not So Favorite Eats

I am not even sure that there are 10 things I don’t like, but here are the ones that jump into my dome:
Sweet potatoes. Can’t stand them in any way, shape or form.

Ham, yup, I do not like ham. It is the only pork product I don’t like. Give me pickled feet, ears, and the almighty BACON anytime.

SPAM: Don’t know the food group, or what animal this stuff comes from, but eating food that looks like somebody else chewed it ain’t my mug of beer.

Humus: What the heck is this junk? Had it the other day on a cracker. Yuk, rather like the bottom of a diary man’s boot on a rainy day.

Pumpkin: Sweet potato’s rancid cousin!

OK, this is enough for now. I was preparing for lunch but now I think I will have to wait a few minutes to settle my gut worm down:)

BTW, feel free to give me any recipes that make any of the above likable by this Hillbilly…without a case of beer!

Give Me Food! Who Does Not Love The “Man vs. Food” Show?

I think it is the Travel Channel that airs Man vs Food, and now called Man vs. Food Nation. I like to see how different places throughout America shovels up their grub. My favorite shows have the host, Adam Richmond, attempting a “hotter than heck” food challenge. Reason being, is that there is not a dish on the planet that is so hot, that this Hillbilly can’t eat it.

Yeah, I hear it all the time from some of my pals. “You would never be able to handle the infamous Ghost Pepper.” Of course, these are the same chuckle heads that bet me I could not eat 5 fresh Habanero peppers. That earned me a week’s supply of Keystone Light:)

So, back to the show. I was thinking that somebody should go into business making the various meals shown on this show. If you have not seen the show, here is a glimpse:

The Boys Are Back

I walked through the door last night after my team’s golf match, and I saw a little slice of heaven, more like a little guy named Bill-Willy who is on the mend. Poor mutt, down a few pounds off of his bulging 9 pound frame. Front legs shaved like a poodle where the I.V.’s had been. But he looked perfect in my Hillbilly eyes. I can tell the mean ol’ virus is gone, and my boy is back, though he is still weak and very sore. His tail wags, a bit slow, but it wags. He, like his bro and sis are lickers, and he was handing out some lovin! He also indulged in a few bites of his favorite dog food: OL’Roy. Though he had his choice of roasted chicken and steamed rice. Sounds like his dad: Don’t feed me crap that I have to wear a tie, and choose the correct fork to use. Give me a slab of bovine, some peanuts, and a cooler full of beer-luv!

Looks as though I can finally relax a bit now. I feel the old Hillbilly words of wisdom, or B.S., depending how you look at em’, returning.So good in fact, I am like a three balled dog with a honey coated tongue!

Thanks to everyone who dropped a word to the Big Guy upstairs, or thought happy thoughts for my boys. The Hillbilly loves ya’ and will drink a beer to each, and every one of ya, probably all in the same sitting:)

Thanks Be To God: Billy Willy And B.W. Pulling Through!

Dr. Rob just informed us that my boys were able to eat a little bit of chicken today. If they can keep it in their boiler, and not puke it out, they can come home tomorrow! Phew! Looks like they just might get to go fishing and drinking ber with their dad this summer.

Again I have to thank Dr. Santos for being such a great friend and doctor, because the friend allows me to make monthly payments for services I could not otherwise afford, and to the doctor whose skills are second to none!

Tink 006

Bill Willy and B.W. are the two that are asleep, Tula is their sister in the middle.

Update: Two Sick Puppies Hospitalized

This is horrible, but thank God my long time friend, and vet, is on the case. It is a stomach virus that is the culprit, and we are figuring it was either something in the dirt, which they eat worms out of, or the litter box. I am not sure what the odds are for them pulling through, I am still on the hopeful side seeing that I have not received a phone call since leaving them at the vet yesterday afternoon.

I stress-out over my sick pups, more than my family due to the simple fact that dogs rely %100 on me to care and watch out for them. I have an amazing track record when it comes to caring for my furry family members.

Lets pray that Bill Willy and B.W. pull through, I am really looking forward to taking them fishing this summer over my 70 day vacation.

Nothing Worse Than A Bad Chopper

I am not talking motor cycles or butchers here. I am talking about my frigging tooth that needs a root canal. I usually enjoy going to the tooth-puller, seeing that I think their job is fascinating. All but two of my teeth have been drilled and filled over the years. I brush and floss all the time, but have been told that some of us poor slobs just got the business end of the pooper scooper when it come to genetics for our chicklets. But this tooth is different. Kind of like the one kid who rides the short bus, and nobody sits next to because he chews his warts off. Everytime I go to make an appointment, the darn things settles down. Then around 4:15 on a Friday; Happy Hour, it makes a sudden return like the squirts at the movies!

I was thinking if fluoride(I know, I think the stuff is poison, but it helps my rant) was put into beer, I would have the best looking grill since the 1955 Bel Air. Why the heck can’t somebody come up with a cure for cavities? Sure, cancer and AIDS get all the attention, but at least the pain from these illnesses finally kill you, but the tooth ache rages on and not granting your wish for death.

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