It will shock you.
It will make you cry.
It might make you laugh.
But it will definitely shock you.
Invisible Friends of the Pond........
I am a hermit obsessed with rednecks and all things meaty and sugary.
What do you mean that's not news? You've always known that I am a reclusive closet redneck-loving woman obsessed with waffles, hamburgers, meatballs and oatmeal cookies?
Well, that doesn't make things exciting at all. You see, it all became crystal clear this weekend. Holed up in the house, I was thrilled to be cleaning on a Friday night. I was delighted to take a break to have barbecue with Mom and Danielle, and I was exhilarated to return back to the house to clean more. Saturday morning, I looked around and realized the house was sparkling clean. I nearly cried in delight. Then I proceeded to spend the day stuffing myself with fish and chips, apple pie, quesidillas created from leftovers of corn tortillas, sirloin steak and refried beans and oatmeal cookies. Now, the oatmeal cookies were not my fault. Ben just happened to bake them and I couldn't leave them sitting there. They looked so lonely.
The evening got even better when I started watching "My Big Fat Redneck Wedding." Holy crap. Here I thought I was setting society on edge by getting married in a barbecue restaurant. If only I had known there were couples in the world who get married on horses, take naked pictures on horses and throw horse poop at each other for fun. I'm not joking. It was better than listening to the Blue Collar Tour. I'm pretty sure one of my relatives will wind up on the show someday. And I couldn't be prouder.
Sunday, I was tickled pink to be bumbling around the house with Ben. I was even happier when we had meatballs and oatmeal cookies together. By Sunday night, my stomach was so extended I looked like one of those orphans in Africa as I laid on the bed, a dazed look and goofy grin on my face. Ben just shook his head.
"What?" I tried to eye him, but I was in a sugar-induced haze. "What's your problem?
"How many cookies did you eat?" he asked. Shifting my eyes, I looked at the ceiling.
"How many?" he asked.
"Four," I muttered.
"Four!" he exclaimed. "That's as many as I ate!"
"Well don't call the kettle black!" I tried to glare but belched instead.
"I'm twice your size," he said, flabbergasted. "And you had more meatballs than I did!"
"They were so tasty...." I tried to justify my gluttony. Ben shook his head and looked at my swollen tummy.
"I swear," he muttered, holding his own bloated stomach. "Sometimes I think I'm Shallow Hall and you're really 400-lbs. You've just managed to trick everyone around you too."
Ignoring him, I flipped on the T.V.
"Honey!" I bellowed. "The redneck show is on again! Come here! You got to see this!"
Alas, my Invisible Friends, I must confess: My name is the Blonde Duck and I am a redneck-obsessed hermit who has the habit of gorging herself on the weekends with meatballs and oatmeal cookies.
They're so good though......do you want one?