Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Baby Bird poses dilemmas
By The Erudite Redneck
Baby Bird -- note use of her full former, pre-college nickname -- is bringin' home a suitor this weekend. It'll be just me and them, since Dr. ER is gallivantin' off to Charleston, then Vegas, on bidness (or so she says).
She's 19; he is a hairy-legged young man of 21, hence she suddenly is Baby Bird again, not just Bird!
"So, like, (boyfriend) and me are gonna, like, come in on Saturday and stuff and go to (a local concert) and go back on Sunday probably," Baby Bird allowed yesterday on the phone from Oklahoma State.
"Oh? OK. And where are you going to deposit the boy?"
"On the futon, I guess, or the couch," she said.
"OK. Y'all goin' to be able to keep your clothes on and all?"
"YES! WE'LL BE ABLE TO KEEP OUR CLOTHES ON!" Baby Bird said laughingly and plainly, suggesting that she had an audience, perhaps the beau hisself, which means she and somebody prolly had a grand hoohaw over my concerns.
Oh, he is a certifiable Yankee, by the way. From Massachusetts. And he has one Big Thing goin' for him, as far as Baby Bird, as well as the rest of the ER household, is concerned.
The boy's a Democrat.
Of course, he's prolly a screamin' lefty -- and neither Dr. ER nor I are that, despite recent rants in this space.
I'm just gearin' up for the '06 elections, since Katrina has handed us something we Dems can rally around: Not the failures of the Bush administration per se, but the immorality of an unfettered free-market approach to ANYTHING.
But, fact is, ol' ER would rather his Baby Bird hook up with a screamin' lefty as a righty Repub of any description.
However, the weekend's plans do come with some conundra:
Numero uno: The way Baby Bird's beaus have traditionally been welcomed to the ER fam is with an inch-plus-thick "ER Special" steak. Either grilled or pan-fried -- and I can flat pan-fry a mean steak, ah tell you what. Thyme. Lowry's. Fresh-cracked black pepper. Garlic powder. Butter right before you take 'em up.
Dilemma: Do I fix ribeyes or T-bones?
Numero two-o: The boy will be sacked out on either the futon next to the sun room or the couch in the front room.
Dilemma: Do I deposit him -- and chain him, with Ice-T, the Attack Cat with Street Cred, at the ready -- to the futon, where he has a great view of Dr. ER's photo of the monument to Stonewall Jackson taken at the Manassas battlefield in Virginia? Or should he go on the couch, where he can admire a nicely framed print of the Battle of Pea Ridge (Arkansas), and if he raises up, he can get a glimpse of the Confederate battle flag down the hall tacked to the roof of my office?
Numero three-o:
Just a plain dilemma. When Baby Bird and this hairy-legged Yankee boy come traipsin' into the house Saturday afternoon, should I be sittin' there cleanin' my trusty Mossberg 12-gauge?
Or my Winchester 30-30?
Questions, questions ...
END
Baby Bird -- note use of her full former, pre-college nickname -- is bringin' home a suitor this weekend. It'll be just me and them, since Dr. ER is gallivantin' off to Charleston, then Vegas, on bidness (or so she says).
She's 19; he is a hairy-legged young man of 21, hence she suddenly is Baby Bird again, not just Bird!
"So, like, (boyfriend) and me are gonna, like, come in on Saturday and stuff and go to (a local concert) and go back on Sunday probably," Baby Bird allowed yesterday on the phone from Oklahoma State.
"Oh? OK. And where are you going to deposit the boy?"
"On the futon, I guess, or the couch," she said.
"OK. Y'all goin' to be able to keep your clothes on and all?"
"YES! WE'LL BE ABLE TO KEEP OUR CLOTHES ON!" Baby Bird said laughingly and plainly, suggesting that she had an audience, perhaps the beau hisself, which means she and somebody prolly had a grand hoohaw over my concerns.
Oh, he is a certifiable Yankee, by the way. From Massachusetts. And he has one Big Thing goin' for him, as far as Baby Bird, as well as the rest of the ER household, is concerned.
The boy's a Democrat.
Of course, he's prolly a screamin' lefty -- and neither Dr. ER nor I are that, despite recent rants in this space.
I'm just gearin' up for the '06 elections, since Katrina has handed us something we Dems can rally around: Not the failures of the Bush administration per se, but the immorality of an unfettered free-market approach to ANYTHING.
But, fact is, ol' ER would rather his Baby Bird hook up with a screamin' lefty as a righty Repub of any description.
However, the weekend's plans do come with some conundra:
Numero uno: The way Baby Bird's beaus have traditionally been welcomed to the ER fam is with an inch-plus-thick "ER Special" steak. Either grilled or pan-fried -- and I can flat pan-fry a mean steak, ah tell you what. Thyme. Lowry's. Fresh-cracked black pepper. Garlic powder. Butter right before you take 'em up.
Dilemma: Do I fix ribeyes or T-bones?
Numero two-o: The boy will be sacked out on either the futon next to the sun room or the couch in the front room.
Dilemma: Do I deposit him -- and chain him, with Ice-T, the Attack Cat with Street Cred, at the ready -- to the futon, where he has a great view of Dr. ER's photo of the monument to Stonewall Jackson taken at the Manassas battlefield in Virginia? Or should he go on the couch, where he can admire a nicely framed print of the Battle of Pea Ridge (Arkansas), and if he raises up, he can get a glimpse of the Confederate battle flag down the hall tacked to the roof of my office?
Numero three-o:
Just a plain dilemma. When Baby Bird and this hairy-legged Yankee boy come traipsin' into the house Saturday afternoon, should I be sittin' there cleanin' my trusty Mossberg 12-gauge?
Or my Winchester 30-30?
Questions, questions ...
END
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I remember an Andy Griffith episode where he addressed his concerns about Aunt Bea's paramour's true motives while calmly cleaning his shotgun.
I think that would be very effective but not overtly menacing.
I think that would be very effective but not overtly menacing.
1. Does the Yankee eat beef? (Of course, if he doesn't, how he handles being served such will tell you quite a bit about him.)
2. Put him in whichever place gives him more opportunity to trip over something if he tries to sneak into Bird's room at night.
3. Cleaning a gun is soooo cliche! Could you possibly arrange to be coming back from a successful hunting trip when they pull up?
2. Put him in whichever place gives him more opportunity to trip over something if he tries to sneak into Bird's room at night.
3. Cleaning a gun is soooo cliche! Could you possibly arrange to be coming back from a successful hunting trip when they pull up?
Forget trying to scare the boy with a firearm - it is very cliched. I'll tell you what Daddy always did when my sisters brought a new boy home - he'd get down to some real work. He'd see if the boy: 1. would volunteer to help (or have to be asked), 2. could handle hard work.
I remember being home one weekend when my sister was bringin' a new beau. Daddy and I dug up the septic tank and drain field (there was no problem). He wanted to see how the boy would react to cleaning it out. He did NOT volunteer. He was persuaded to help though, after he ran out of excuses. He never came around again. That was allright with us as he was yankee himself.
I remember being home one weekend when my sister was bringin' a new beau. Daddy and I dug up the septic tank and drain field (there was no problem). He wanted to see how the boy would react to cleaning it out. He did NOT volunteer. He was persuaded to help though, after he ran out of excuses. He never came around again. That was allright with us as he was yankee himself.
Egad! A veggietarian! Might as well be a Klingon. I wouldn't know how to start a conversation, even. I mean, I can argue with a Repub. But what do you say to someone who looks at a cow and thinks "companion animal" and not "supper"?
Hmmm, the gun thing IS a cliche. I could be sittin' on the porch in my overalls sharpenin' a hoe, drinkin' a coldbeer. But where's the threat in that? And I MIGHT have to splain what a hoe is, which would not improve my mood. :-)
--ER
Hmmm, the gun thing IS a cliche. I could be sittin' on the porch in my overalls sharpenin' a hoe, drinkin' a coldbeer. But where's the threat in that? And I MIGHT have to splain what a hoe is, which would not improve my mood. :-)
--ER
Holy crap, so to speak. That's plumb mean. I do know my way around a septic tank and a lateral line, my own self.
Once at my college sweetie's place, her daddy needed some help movin' some calves from one place to another and I was so nervous around him I was about as useful as a tow sack tacked to a corner post, which means not much. I let them critters get out in the road (dirt county road, thank God), and we was movin' 'em no more than 100 feet or so! I was never more ashamed.
--ER
Once at my college sweetie's place, her daddy needed some help movin' some calves from one place to another and I was so nervous around him I was about as useful as a tow sack tacked to a corner post, which means not much. I let them critters get out in the road (dirt county road, thank God), and we was movin' 'em no more than 100 feet or so! I was never more ashamed.
--ER
Yeah. He apologized to Sis on that one. He'd met the boy once before (he'd taken them out to dinner once when he and Mama went down to visit). He didn't like the boy.
Normally he'd clear brush, pull stumps, cut firewood, etc. -normal 'everyday country work'. But for kids that were raised in the city, it was pure torture. I don't know if his weeding-out system had anything to do with it, but both my sisters ended up with pretty good men. One's a bit of a wus, but he won't shirk his share of work when he visits my folks. He's also real good to Sis.
Normally he'd clear brush, pull stumps, cut firewood, etc. -normal 'everyday country work'. But for kids that were raised in the city, it was pure torture. I don't know if his weeding-out system had anything to do with it, but both my sisters ended up with pretty good men. One's a bit of a wus, but he won't shirk his share of work when he visits my folks. He's also real good to Sis.
Oh yeah - I should add that I wasn't in on that one from the start. I assumed there was an actual problem with the septic system. I wasn't too happy with Daddy when he let me in on his 'secret'. But at that point, everything was uncovered and we were literally 'knee-deep' in it.
Haul his ass to Sequoyah county, make him drink beer with us. That'd be fun to watch.
# posted by 
: 10:28 AM
: 10:28 AM
I'm not sure we'uns would be able to understand him, specially if Mr. Dickel was on the premises. ... But Bird says his accent ain't that bad. Of course, she might not can hear much over the flappin' of Cupid's wings.
--ER
--ER
Did you pick up a Dukes of Hazzard poster after the movie came out? That would be a nice touch for the decor ... and maybe you can replace the kitty cat with a bloodhound for the duration of the visit.
Oh, act like you don't care if he sneaks into her room or not. Then see who looks scared. Kids always seem to want to do what you wish they WOULDN'T. Whyzit she's comin' when her momma's not going to be there???
# posted by : 12:14 PM
: 12:14 PM
1. ribeyes they are my choice.
2. room with the view of old
glory on the ceiling.
3. classic
4. (that Seq Co thing would sure
show what he is made of)
2. room with the view of old
glory on the ceiling.
3. classic
4. (that Seq Co thing would sure
show what he is made of)
Hmmmm. Does the hairy-legged guy know about your blog? Maybe he's the kid at the upperclassman frat party?
# posted by : 12:27 PM
: 12:27 PM
You want to indimidate him? Here's one better'n any gun or attack kitten could ever do:
Ask him straight up, face to face, six inches of daylight in between with a cigar in your mouth puffing smoke, if he's doing anything unsavory with Bird. He'd be too damn scared to take the next step. He'd be just as comfy as anything on that couch or futon, where he'll have plenty to think about.
Ask him straight up, face to face, six inches of daylight in between with a cigar in your mouth puffing smoke, if he's doing anything unsavory with Bird. He'd be too damn scared to take the next step. He'd be just as comfy as anything on that couch or futon, where he'll have plenty to think about.
Y'all are great. Actually, I trust Bird's judgment -- as far as any 19-year-old should be trusted. She's coming home since she hasn't been home in a few weeks; made the decision before she found her her mama would be gone; there's no game at Stillwater this week; and there is a concert at her former high school; and, besides that, what am I? Chicken feed?? :-)
BTW, a 21-year-old junior IS an upperclassman, and he's in a program that weeds out weak 'uns before then.
--ER
BTW, a 21-year-old junior IS an upperclassman, and he's in a program that weeds out weak 'uns before then.
--ER
Red alert. Phasers on kill.
I do not get what some of you -- OK, one of you -- do not understand about: Absolutely no bullshit, insulting or even approaching it, on any post about BIrd or Dr. ER as a family unit -- including myself, as a member of said family.
These are fun little pieces to everyone but one asshole. Go the F away and stay away.
--ER
I do not get what some of you -- OK, one of you -- do not understand about: Absolutely no bullshit, insulting or even approaching it, on any post about BIrd or Dr. ER as a family unit -- including myself, as a member of said family.
These are fun little pieces to everyone but one asshole. Go the F away and stay away.
--ER
ER, I been here before, both for my girl and one of my boys. Just remember that baby bird is on the back side of 19, that means she's almost 20 and the boy is 21. That means they are both old enough to be in uniform and carrying weapons big enough to blow your pick-up away. They are adults, so treat them like adults.
By the way, I would go for the steak, and buy me a new Glock to clean for the occasion.
By the way, I would go for the steak, and buy me a new Glock to clean for the occasion.
# posted by : 1:31 PM
: 1:31 PM
Bill Engvall had a plan. He would tell the prospective suitor, "If you touch my daughter, I have no problem going back to prison."
I think rib eyes are a better cut of meat, but with the T bone, you get to check his gnawing skills.
And why can't he sleep in the back of a pickup under starry skies?
No guns. Chainsaw.
And why can't he sleep in the back of a pickup under starry skies?
No guns. Chainsaw.
Hold on guys, this is E.R. we're talking about. No chain saws. He doesn't have enough digits left to risk losing any more with sharp insruments, remember?
Trix, I hear that. Which is why when he said somethin' about a hoe, I had to giggle. I could see him with a dangling digit, all while just sharpening the hoe.
As a former daughter whose dad thought it was HILARIOUS to act mean to my boyfriends, I can only plead with you not to. The boyfriend will find it amusing; your daughter will probably be mortified. ;)
:-).
B, I would never. Just givin' my redneck side expression here, to keep from doin' so in front of the lad. And Bird.
:-)
Glafd to see ya around, by the way, and you have appropriate condolences.
--ER
B, I would never. Just givin' my redneck side expression here, to keep from doin' so in front of the lad. And Bird.
:-)
Glafd to see ya around, by the way, and you have appropriate condolences.
--ER
I might be able to rattle him just with my DeKalb seed cap from the co-op at Vernon, Texas. :-)
Somewhere around here I think I even have one from Red River Gin No. 3, Davidson, Okla.!
--ER
Somewhere around here I think I even have one from Red River Gin No. 3, Davidson, Okla.!
--ER
Call him by the wrong name. That's a good way to see if he has a sense of humor. My dad did this to my husband once while we were dating and his reaction was hilarious. He didn't ask my dad a thing, but turned to me and said, "Who's Ernie?"
One Sunday afternoon after lunch, (I think Lewis and I were already engaged) my dad came from the back of the house with his shotgun. He was bringing it to show to Lewis, but I wish you couldv'e seen the look in his eye.
Good luck with this adventure, ER. I can't even imagine what it will be like when boys start calling on my girls.
One Sunday afternoon after lunch, (I think Lewis and I were already engaged) my dad came from the back of the house with his shotgun. He was bringing it to show to Lewis, but I wish you couldv'e seen the look in his eye.
Good luck with this adventure, ER. I can't even imagine what it will be like when boys start calling on my girls.
If you really want to freak this boy out, ER, how about just putting your arm around him and tell him you swing that way if he's interested.
Then keep a camera around so we can all see the look on his face.
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Then keep a camera around so we can all see the look on his face.
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