Asinine Hillbilly Moms

It is early morning and the sun has barely risen. You grab your blanket and pull it up over your face, trying to get cozy and stay warm. You adjust your pillow finding a more comfortable position. Then... it is the most annoying sound in the world. It is rather alarming, but it is not an alarm. It isn't even the sound of kids fighting, or your wife rattling off her honey-do list (not that mine does). It sounds something like this. "COOOOMMME OOOON!!! LET'S GO BOY!!! PUSH 'EM BACK, HOLD 'EM HERE!!! YOU GOT THIS ONE, GET THAT BALL BACK!!! COME ON, BULL!!! GET UP THERE ON THAT LINE OF SCRIMMAGE!!! HIT SOMEBODY!!!" As you fight for warmth, all you can do shiver from the shrill sound of the redneck woman who can't, uh, be quiet behind you. A moment of silen... "BULL, GET IN THERE!!! DON'T LET THEM PUSH YOU AROUND!!! COME ON BOY!!! GO AFTER THAT BALL!!!" Egads!!! Really? "WOOOOOO, HOOOOO!!! LET"S GO!!! YOU GOT IT!!!" Now your eardrums are ringing and you wonder why that, of all the seats in the bleachers, you had to pick that one. You thought you brought everything for comfort as you watch your son play a good ol' game of youth football. You brought your cup of coffee (in my case hot chocolate), a warm blanket (or two), a pillow to keep your rear end off the freezing bleachers, a hoodie, a coat, and... "BULL!!! GET UP THERE!!! RUN!!! YOUR TEAM IS DEPENDING ON YOU TO GET THAT BALL BACK!!! GET THAT QUARTERBACK!!!" You just realized the most important thing you forgot, your earplugs. Not only is it extremely asinine that this lady behind thinks that the whole team is comprised of, well, only her son, but she just won't freakin' shut up. I mean we shout every once in a while, but... "ALRIGHT!!! YOU GUYS GOT THE BALL!!! MOVE IT DOWN THE FIELD!!! LISTEN TO THE PLAY, BULL!!! PAY ATTENTION!!! PUT YOUR MOUTHPIECE IN!!! HURRY BULL!!! PROTECT THAT QUARTERBACK!!!" Argh!!! Where was I? Oh yeah, but we don't yell for every move they make. I mean, come on, when a good play is made, sure, and even to lift their spirits when they are not, exactly, doing so... "OH YEAH!!! GET IN THERE AND GET YOU SOME!!! WAY TO GO BULL!!! (He didn't even do anything) SHOW 'EM HOW ITS DONE!!! WOOOO HOOOOO!!!" Alright, alright, enough is enough, now it is time to say something. You aren't really sure what it is going to be, it is difficult to think with all the ringing in your ears and your fast-approaching migraine. You lean over and tell your wife, "I'm going to say something." She reasures, for the sake of the sheer embarassment of starting a shouting match with a rather robust redneck woman, that you are not going to say a word. What is there that is left to do? Move? Nope, that is too obvious. Well, if you can't tell her to shut the heck up and if you can't move, I guess the only thing left is to join her. So, every time she shouts, you throw in your own little hoots and hollers. It makes you feel better, somewhat, okay not really, but, like I told my wife, "If I can't tell her to shut her fat mouth and act like a normal person instead of a freaking asinine hillbilly mom." Hold on, hold on... Let me explain this person to you... They are the same ones who decided they are going to have a night out on the town, I'm not sure where the money came from, maybe their cousin Jed Clampitt, or maybe she decided to forego the cigarettes and alcohol this week, but nonetheless, a night out on the town... They walk into some place slightly more classy then their usual, say, uh, Ruby Tuesdays (that is where I officially proposed to my wife). You know the ones, she is dressed up in her Sunday's finest, and she is missing all but three teeth (no offense). She has a chip on her shoulder, as though she should be treated like a queen, deserving of the utmost, royal treatment. It might go something like this... "Uh, excuuse me, we WOULD like to be seated sometime today." Then, it is just one thing after another. It is her poor rendition of what she thinks rich people act like when they go out in public. It is a sad sight to witness and truly embarassing, yes for them, but for yourself that you even chose that particular place to eat. Yeah, I don't know for sure, but I am sure that two would be one and the same. I know I seem a little bit impolite, but let's look at the bright side, I never said anything to her, as if nothing even bothered me. I wanted, but I refrained, with the help of my wife. It got better after that (because she left before we did). Truth be told, I really didn't want to tango with that woman anyway, she probably could have taken me. Lesson to be learned from this? Embrace the wisdom of your spouse and just know that when dealing asinine hillbilly moms, it is best not to act like one yourself.