I have PMS and a Tater Gun

I recently told some friends that I have the Three T's of Redneck-dom. I have my Truck--the B.A.T. mobile--a tattoo--it's a cool tattoo, a wolf to symbolize my Cherokee background. Grandma Sally was part of the Wolf Clan--and a Tater gun. What is a tater gun? If you're from the South, at least the rural South, you probably don't have to ask; however, since my kids go to a Catholic school where a large majority of the families are transplants from up North, they often view me as a rather different sort of specimen, something akin to Granny Clampett.

A tater gun, my friends, is made from PVC pipe. Shove a potato in one end of that sucker, then at the other end, spray some cheap hairspray with a high alcohol content, something like Aquanet, close the end cap quickly, then flick the switch, like a lighter, then watch that tater fly! My tater gun came to me courtesy my brother in Kentucky. He was talking about some of his escapades with a tater gun, and I replied that it was an object that I absolutely HAD to have. He generously made one for me last summer when I was visiting my homestead in My Old Kentucky Home, and I proudly came back over the mountains with my very own tater gun!

So it's redneck. It's also great fun! Especially when the taters, all broken up into tiny pieces, end up in strange places with no apparent explanation. I like to blame it on the Potato Aliens, whom I suspect may or may not be related to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

I reckon the tater gun is safer in my hands than a real gun, though. Take those PMS moments, for example. I REALLY don't look good in orange. In fact, it is quite hideous on me. I'm unlikely to actually kill anyone with a tater gun. Now that I reflect on it, I'm unlikely to actually kill anyone with a real gun.

In other news, the 13th of the month has come and passed. That means The Girls made their monthly jail break, just past midnight on the 13th. It happens every month, right around the 13th. The female dogs decided to escape. I don't know the meaning of it or if they are actually hiding small calendars in their kennels, under their dog houses so they know exactly when it's time to dig out, but we've taken note, and next month, we'll be ready for them!

In the meantime, I have discovered this game at Animal Planet: Pimp Your Pooch! I have been having WAY too much fun with this...more fun than an adult woman should. Some days, it doesn't take much to amuse me.