Sunday, February 17, 2013

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's Concert Monologue, Based On Bette Middler As A Janis Joplinesque Performer

You know, sometimes, people say to me, "Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, when's the first time you ever heard the blues?" And you know what I tell 'em? The day I was offered my first job. You know why? You know why? 'Coz I became a teacher. Ah! Oh! We got some NOISY educators in the house tonight! I do like to hear that whiny sound, you know I do. Oh, being an instructor is so interesting don't you find it? What are we, teachers, what are we? We are babysitters in the theater of life! Get into that classroom and rattle them dry erase markers and erasers...and you better look pretty gosh-darned good doin' it, too, or else you gonna lose a good thang! Oh! And why do we do that, why do we do that? I tell you why we do that, we do that to find snoooooow days!

Oh, I love snow days, don't you love snow days? Ain't it just great to get a snow day? Oh, ain't it wonderful? Isn't it wonderful to get a snow day? Ain't it just grand to be layin' there at night in bed, waitin' for the snow to show up? And when it finally does, round about four o'clock in the mornin' with rain in its midst, and the whiff of a warm front on its breath...Oh, honey, I can smell a warm front from five hundred paces! That's a easy one to catch! So what do you do when it comes home with a whiff of warm front on its breath? Do you say, "Oh, honey, let me open up my loving arms and my loving heart! Dive right in baby, the water's fine!" Is that what you say, teachers? Or do you say, "Pack your bags! I'm puttin' on my little thinking cap and my worn-out comfortable shoes. I'm gonna go find me a real snow day, a good snow day, a true snow day, a snow day who will bring me days off for sure." You know, I tell you something, I tell you something. I one time I actually thought I found myself one. I did, I thought I found myself one. When it...when it...

Cue music.

"When a snow day is forecast for Thursday..."


Sioux said...

This is the Show Me state, so I won't believe it until I'm shown, until I see it for myself.

I refuse--you hear me?--I REFUSE to get my hopes up, only to be crushed at the last minute, my hopes dashed on the rocks of despair.

So speak not of it--even in a whisper--until the snow is butt deep, and it's sitting on top of a thick layer of ice.

Because ice, after all, is the ingredient that almost always delivers...

Hillbilly Mom said...

The lying meteorologists are expressing a consensus of a special delivery just for you.

Beware the lying meteorologists.