Don't Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor...Dollars Yearning To Be Spent

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is declaring war on you folks who can't take care of your money!

I do NOT want to be the customer after you in the gas station chicken store, getting your tired old dollars in my change. Dollars should not be damp to the touch. I don't know if you've spilled your 44 oz Diet Coke on them at the register, or just removed them from your shoe, sock, bra, or thong. NO! Just no.

Also, I do not want my change all creased at various cattywompus angles. A dollar bill should be carried in the pocket, folded in half. And not the long way, either! Not like you're going to tuck it in some stripper's g-string if you can lure her off the pole. Folded in half. Kept unwrinkled. That's how it should be.

It is SO difficult for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom to handle her change if the cashier lays one of those crinkly dollar bills that have been wadded up all willy-nilly across her palm. And then dumps on the coins. Very hard to handle that avalanche-wanna-being pile of change while trying to stuff it in her pants pocket, her other hand busy with a 44 oz Diet Coke, scratch-off tickets, and a white paper sack containing a small mashed potatoes and gravy for Farmer H.

Besides, it is SO hard to force that crumpledbillskin into a slot machine accepter. Not that dollars are Mrs. HM's denomination of choice, mind you.

FOLD YOUR MONEY, people! Fold it right, or don't fold it at all!