Peevish Advice

Occupation & Chores

2011-11-03T14:32:00.000-04:00

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida's Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop located in Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are currently running our pre-Thanksgiving makeover special, "Turkeys Are to be Served and not Looked Like," wherein we'll get you fit for the big day so nobody can talk about you behind your back the following day. Now let's see what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I just heard that a gang of people were gathered down on Main Street. What's with that? Did I miss something good?—Left Out

Dear Lefty: You didn't miss much. Mavis Peabody, who thinks she is one of the more progressive Rock Bottom citizens, heard about how folks was occupying Wall Street and getting their picture in the paper for doing it and thought that folks ought to do something like that in Rock Bottom. It didn't take long until a bunch of her friends got together and stood down on Main Street where it dead-ends and where they weren't likely to get hit by cars or anything. It wasn't long until other folks noticed and joined them. In the meantime, after no reporters had showed up to cover the occupation, Mavis got the idea that they should shut down some corporations the way they try to do in big city occupations. Unfortunately, There are no corporations to be found anywhere close to Rock Bottom, so they persuaded the Rock Bottom Tip-Top Diner to close as well as the Rock Bottom General Store and the livestock market. It was kind of a slow day for those businesses anyhow on account the occupiers had taken all the parking spaces.

After they'd stood there for a couple more hours and nothing much happened and no reporters showed up, somebody mentioned that the Wall Street Occupiers held up signs saying they were the 99 per cent, so somebody else got some cardboard and magic markers and commenced making signs. Everybody agreed that nothing in Rock Bottom ranks in the 99th per cent of anything, so they decided 25 per cent was a good enough number to put on the signs. After they stood there holding signs for another hour or so, they got thirsty and hungry, so they went to the Rock Bottom Tip-Top Diner but it was closed. A few folks decided to go home for lunch and didn't come back.

While the remaining the occupiers stood there, it started raining, so they all ran into the Rock Bottom General Store where they planned to buy umbrellas, but it was closed. Fortunately, the rain let up in another hour or so, but the humidity was high and it was hot. Since the employees at the Rock Bottom Stock Market had gone home, nobody was left to shovel up after the couple hundred cows and pigs that were there, and things really heated up and started to stink.

Finally somebody asked Mavis why the folks occupied Wall Street in the first place. She had to admit she had no idea. Luckily, some kid had one of them iPats and patted it until the Internet appeared and they learned the answer: Them New Yawk folks wanted jobs. Well, that didn't go over too good on Main Street on account most Rock Bottomites will avoid work whenever they can, although a lot of them don't mind watching other folks do it. Consequently, everybody went home where they planned to occupy their recliners and watch TV.

Dear Ida B. I was out sweeping my sidewalk today when a van pulled up and two guys got out and said they'd like to vacuum my carpet. Now, I thought it was a little odd that their van didn't have the name of a company on it and didn't even have license plates. I told them I wasn't interested. did I do the right thing?—Wondering

Dear Wonder: Yep. There is no telling what might have happened if you let them in the house. We discussed this for a time down here at Ida's Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. My manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, told how she handled those guys when they came to her daddy's place last week and told her that they could make her household chores a lot easier. Then they asked if they could come in a vacuum her carpet. In her sweetest voice, Honey Sue said, "Why, sure I'd love to have you guys come in and show me what you can do." Then she winked and continued, "But first, I promised my daddy I'd help him do one or two outside chores. Do y'all reckon you could help me just a mite?" Them two guys nodded and she handed each one a bucket of slop and told them to follow her to the hog-pen, which they did. After they'd slopped the hogs, she handed them pitchforks and had them muck out the cowshed. Then she had them feed the chickens and gather eggs, and she was real sorry that the rooster attacked them. When they got back to the house, her daddy was on the porch with his shotgun and made it clear to them guys that they weren't to hang around his little gal anymore. After he fired a blast into the side of their van, they took off. Honey Sue was real happy that she didn't have to mess up her manicure by doing the chores that day. She did feel a little guilty that she didn't tell them that there ain't no carpet in her daddy's house, though.

Well, that's it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap and my advice is free. (Unless you want it between the covers—of a book, that is. If so, go to Amazon.com, where you will find Peevish Advice here, and More Peevish Advice here.)

Big Bang, Texts, & Benefits

2011-11-02T09:32:00.001-04:00

Even though I no longer have a column, every so often I get an idea for a Peevish Advice letter. Besides, I kinda miss Ida B, bless her heart. So—here's Ida B.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running an extension of our pre-Halloween “If your hair's a fright, we can make it right” special, because we know y’all don't want to scare them little trick-or-treaters too bad, especially the ones who forgot what day it was and are likely to appear on your doorstep any time within the next couple of weeks. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. What can you tell me about the lockdown the other day at Rock Bottom High School? I heard someone was spotted with a gun. Were them kids in any danger?—Concerned Parent

Dear Over-protective Mama: The kids were fine. According to principal Alma Motter, someone indeed was spotted with a gun, but it was the PE teacher who was carrying a starter pistol for the beginning of a track meet. Somebody (who obviously ain't from around here) got panicky and called Sheriff Chase Crook and his deputy Barney Smurf (our man in blue) who rounded up all the student spectators and locked them in the gym while they investigated. Meanwhile, since the starter's pistol didn't have any bullets in it, the PE teacher just yelled "Bang!" and the track team took off. When the team saw the police cruisers, they just kept running and never returned to school property. Then, the sheriff and his deputy left, but they forgot to unlock the gym and the kids inside had to spend the night. The school received lots of calls thanking them for keeping the kids so the parents could have a little peace and quiet at home.

Dear Ida B. I hear tell that Rev. Al E. Looyah over at Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit is gonna make some improvements in how he delivers his sermon. What do you know about this?—Tired of Falling Asleep During the Sermon

Dear Sleepy: It is true. Rev. Al figures his sermons might do better on YouTube and reach a wider audience, plus he can write off his new video camera as a business expense. As soon as he figures how to pass the collection plate to his virtual viewers, he will go that route. Meanwhile, he has already made one improvement by delivering his sermons as text messages. Most of the parishioners what weren't asleep were so busy texting each other during his sermon that it didn't take much to figure out how to get them more involved. Of course, when everybody's cell rings at the same time, it can get kinda loud, so about mid-week, parishioners need to go to the church website and download a hymn that will be their ring-tone for the following Sunday. This works out nicely, and the church was able to let the organist go which saved a lot of money. And Rev. Al was able to write off his iPhone as a business expense. BLS U 4 ASKN.

Dear Ida B. For the last couple of months, I have been keeping company with the widower down the road—mainly going to Bingo nights at the Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit and maybe to a tractor pull or two if they're close by and don't cost much. However, he told me the other night that he enjoys my friendship, but he'd like me to be a "friend with benefits." He had a gleam in his eye when he said this. Does that mean he will give me some of his Social Security benefits or does it mean I will have to give him some of mine. Those are the only benefits that either of us has. Please advise. —Widow Woman

Dear Widder: Since your friend is a man, it stands to reason that anything he wants will primarily benefit him and not you. Most likely the benefits he has in mind are that he will want you to cook for him, do his laundry, clean his house, feed his dawgs when he is gone on an extended fishing trip, and possibly trim his nose hair. I don't think he will get your social security benefits, but I could be wrong.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

The Last SME Column

2010-01-17T19:37:00.001-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on December, 10, 2008. It was the last column I wrote.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our pre-Christmas and/or End of the Year Close-out Bait and Beauty Blow-out, wherein we give you a Christmas-tree shaped bouffant and decorate it appropriately to match your tree at home and give you a handful of crawdads to use as either bait or decorative items. If your tree is short of ornaments, those crawdads will do in a pinch. Their little claws will clip right onto your tree branches. Sling a little glitter on them and you have unique and lovely ornaments that your guests are sure to envy. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B.I don’t have any idea how to decorate this year. Seems like I’ve done it all. Plus this year, I will have all my grandkids visiting and they can’t keep their hands off stuff. Do you have any ideas?—Puzzled

Dear Puzzled: Let them kids do the decorating for you. When they arrive, dip their hands in green paint and let them run all around the house putting their hands on stuff. After they’ve maxed out with the green, wash their hands and put red paint on the noses. Then tell them to stick their nose on as many green handprints that they can find. When they get done, you’ll have something that looks like holly (if you squint a lot) all over everything. Plus the kids will be too tired to mess with anything else. Just make sure you use washable paint.

Dear Ida B. I just don’t know what to do this Christmas for my six kids, my fifteen step-kids, my thirty or so nieces, nephews, step-nieces, step-nephews, etc. I want to make Christmas memorable for them, but money is tight and I can’t play favorites. Plus they’ve already got about every kind of toy you can imagine. What do you suggest?—Cashed Out

Dear Cash Cow: If it’s memorable you want, don’t buy any of them anything. That ought to make this Christmas one that they’ll remember. Of course, don’t be surprised if they forget you pretty quick.

Dear Ida B. With money being tight this year, I don’t know what to do. I get lots of presents from folks and I’ll be embarrassed if I can’t give anything in return. What do you suggest.—Strapped for Cash

Dear Strappy: One word: Re-gift. Here’s how it works. Take one of the gifts you got last year that you never used. If you already unwrapped it, you will have to rewrap it. Put a blank gift card on it and keep a pen handy. When somebody holding a gift appears on your stoop, invite them in and graciously accept their gift. Tell them it’s too pretty to open right now and you will open it later. While they aren’t looking, write their name on the blank gift tag and give them the gift you had set aside. After the next gift-bearer appears, say the same thing, quickly change the name on the tag of the gift the first person gave you, etc. Do this as many times as necessary. At the end, you will have a gift left that you can give next year when the cycle will repeat. Some folks in Rock Bottom have been doing this for years and nobody has caught on yet.

Dear Ida B. I am a newcomer to Rock Bottom and I wondered if there are any special Rock Bottom Christmas customs I should be aware of.—Newcomer

Dear Newcomer: The first custom is partaking of the pre-Christmas special here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. You cannot truly fit into Rock Bottom society unless you have big hair. We can help. Next, you should partake of Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit’s annual Christmas Bingo Extravaganza. The church used to have a Christmas pageant but had to discontinue it because of livestock behavior problems, high winds blowing away angels and bathrobes, fist fights over who qualified to be Virgin Mary, lack of wise men among the general population, and nobody willing to stand out in the cold for a couple of hours. Everybody is happy at Bingo, except for some of the losers. If it gets too cold in the church basement, the Rev. Al E. Looyah breaks out the communion wine and everybody has a swig. That always seems to warm everybody up—and folks have been known to break in ahead of time and turn down the thermostat. Finally, you should graciously accept any fruitcake offered to you, but under no circumstances should you actually eat it. Consider fruitcakes as something for display purposes only and immediately re-gift any that you receive. There are some Rock Bottom fruitcakes that have been making the rounds for years. Some neighborhoods have their own peculiar customs, but the three mentioned here are pretty much standard for the whole area.

Dear Ida B. Rumor has it you are going out of business soon. Say it ain’t so?—Big Fan

Dear Big Fannie: It is so. Ida’s Salon of Beauty is closing down as a result of the economy. When you can’t make your mortgage payment or make needed home repairs, you ain’t likely to have money to fix yourself up, no matter how much you might need it. Plus, I am getting too old to be standing on my feet for 10 hours a day working against nature and trying to make folks look decent when they don’t have much for me to work with. As for giving advice, there are now a lot of TV shows that do that in more spectacular ways than I can. If you really need my advice, you can still get Peevish Advice and More Peevish Advice on Amazon.com. Plus those books make real good Christmas gifts for folks you purely can’t stand but are obligated to give a gift too. Enlightening the dim ones for the last 10 years has been fun, but sometimes you gotta move on.

Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free—but I’m moving on. Y’all have a happy holiday season.

Art & Landscraping

2009-11-29T11:06:00.000-05:00

This post originally appeared in the November 26, 2008, edition of The Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our Thanksgiving “Hair for the Holidays” special, because we know y’all got lots of company coming for dinner and you naturally want to look better than them. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I don’t generally leave Rock Bottom, but my wife’s truck needed a new transmission after only 270,000 miles and, what with Rock Bottom Transmissions R Y’all gone out of business, I figured I better go to the big city and get her one so I could get my own truck back. Well, not having access to my own truck since my wife was using it and hating to drive where there is hills (unlike Rock Bottom where everything is flat), I asked Bubba Joe and DeeWayne to go with me to Big Mall City. Since Bubba Joe’s truck has the most legible “Farm Use” tag, he got to drive. Once we got the passenger door wired shut so we wouldn’t fall out, we was good to go.

Anyhow, we was tooling along the highway—Did you know them city folks drive like they were NASCAR drivers? Well, they do!—about 35 miles per hour, which is pushing it on account Bubba Joe’s truck generally can’t get above 25 mph without something shaking loose, when we come to the big city and we seen what looked to us like either a plane crash or a building had collapsed. We couldn’t tell what, but whatever it was didn’t have any windows broke and it had plenty of them. We figured we might be able to salvage something we could sell to defray the cost of the new slightly-used transmission I was going to get, so we turned off the speedway and drove near it.

Ida B, there was a powerful lot of folks milling around but none of them looked liked they’d got hurt by the crash or the collapse or whatever it was. They wasn’t even upset.

Well, Bubba Joe parked his truck in the middle of the road where there was plenty of room for other drivers to go around if they wanted, and we got out and went over to where a lot of folks were. I asked one guy, “Hey, Buddy, whatcha doing?” and he said they were looking at Art. We couldn’t figure if this Art guy got hurt or what, so we pushed into the line and went in. We never did find him, but there was a lot of pictures on the wall. They didn’t have price tags, so we figured they might be free. They didn’t have any Elvis on velvet, but they had a few that might look good over the TV to hide the stain that happened the time I missed my spit-cup and that my wife still gives me grief for. So I pried one off the wall, and we left.

There was a policeman leaving a note on the truck window, which I thought was a real neighborly thing to do, but we didn’t have time to stop and chat. We barely made it to pick up the transmission before the place closed so as it was.

My wife was real thrilled with the picture, too. But Ida B, we never did figure out what happened to that building or airplane or whatever it was. Can you clue us in?—Big Earl

Dear Big E. From what folks tell me, it was a museum that you saw and it was supposed to look that way because it is art. Art is in the eye of the beholder. Also, you better give that picture back. I hope your wife hasn’t got attached to it. Here’s a hint to help with that wall stain. Just duct tape a frame around it and pretend it is a unique piece of art. Likely your guests will not know the difference.

Dear Ida B. I am a heavy equipment operator, and not long ago I got some work out at Slick Water Lake from one of them out-of-town developers. I thought I was doing good when he didn’t even hesitate at the price I quoted him (the standard Rock Bottom price plus the added 150% fee for outsiders). Granted the phone connection wasn’t too good when I talked to him, but I thought I understood him pretty well. He told me to go over the whole place and I told him I could do that. Anyhow, I went out to the lake and proceeded to scrape the whole place as flat as I could. It was tough going on account of a lot of big rocks. I even scraped off a bunch of spindly pines that never would amount to anything. Come to find out, now he refuses pay me. He said he contracted me for landSCAPING, not landSCRAPING, and he meant for all them hills and little pines and big rocks to stay. He says I owe him for all the damage I done. Ida B., I improved his development. Now he has room to crowd in a whole bunch more over-priced condos. I figure he owes me a pile of money. What do you think?—Bull Dozer

Dear Bull-Headed: I think you better chalk this up to experience and not charge the man. Also, you might think about changing the name of your business as well as your own name just in case he tries to track you down.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Farm Use Caddy, Phone Calls, Ignorant Bliss, & Decorations

2009-11-15T20:12:00.004-05:00

This post originally appeared in the November 12, 2008, Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our Post-Election “Change is Here” Special, wherein we change the way you look. Keep in mind that there is a risk you might come out looking worse, but you will at least look different. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I just got me a brand new Cadillac convertible, but I can’t afford the license plates or registration. You reckon I could just slap a “Farm Vehicle” plate on ’er and let that do for a while? I never drive it more’n 50-75 miles from home, and I only use it to get to or from the farm, so it ain’t like I’m exactly being dishonest. What do you think?—Caddy Daddy

Dear Cad: As long as you are hauling livestock, you are probably OK. I doubt that your mule or cow would be cooperative, but if you scrub up one of your hogs and put plastic on the seat before you load her up, I think you’re good to go. She’ll probably enjoy getting out, and hogs are generally good company. They ain’t likely to nag you to drive slower or complain about what’s playing on the radio. If you ain’t got a spare hog, you could always throw a couple of bales of hay in the back seat. Again, you want to put down plastic first, especially if you got some of them velour seats.

Dear Ida B. Now that the election is over, I’m feeling kinda lonely. I usta get five or six calls a day from them political folks wanting to sway my vote. I kinda miss the attention. What do you suggest?—Lonely

Dear Lonely: Why not randomly call up whatever numbers pop into your head and chat with whatever folks answer? They’re already used to being annoyed from all them political calls and will probably have a few choice words to say to you. Or call up the phone number in them infomercials and ask questions about their products. Or call tech support for your Internet service and you can talk to folks in foreign countries who don’t have a clue how to help you but you won’t be able to understand them anyhow. Anyhow, please do not call Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop unless you are going to partake of our beauty and bait services.

Dear Ida B. If ignorance is bliss, why ain’t I happy? Everybody is always telling me how ignorant I am.—Miss Raybull

Dear Miz: If you are truly ignorant, you wouldn’t know whether or not you are happy. I suggest you try harder to become more ignorant than you already are. If you want to look good while doing so, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop and we will fix you up. However, we will also fill you in on the latest gossip, so you won’t be ignorant of what is going on in Rock Bottom, but you might be happy to learn stuff about other people that are worse off than you.

Dear Ida B. It seems like I just got my Halloween decorations—pumpkins and a scarecrow and cornstalks—up, and now it’s past time to decorate for Thanksgiving and Christmas. What can I do?—Overwhelmed

Dear Get Over It: Stick some feathers in the pumpkins and they’ll look like turkeys, especially if your guests are nearsighted. The cornstalks are good to go just the way they are, on account they look like harvest stuff, which is the main theme of Thanksgiving anyway. Throw a pilgrim outfit on the scarecrow and he’ll be fine—unless he looks more like an Indian, in which case, stick some feathers on his head. After Thanksgiving, spray paint the pumpkins red to look like big Christmas Balls, or stack them and paint them white to look like a snowman. Spray paint the cornstalks green to look like a Christmas tree. Throw a little glitter on them while the paint is still wet, and they’ll be especially festive. Put a Santa suit on the scarecrow if he’s big, or an elf suit if he’s small. In February, if the pumpkins haven’t rotted, you can glue a white heart-shaped doily on them (if they’re red) or a red heart-shaped doily on them (if they’re white). Dress the scarecrow like Cupid. Throw away the cornstalks. Happy Halloween-thanksgiving-christmas-valentines-day!

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Elections, Tricks, Leaves, & Cat Vomit Casseroles

2009-10-24T19:41:00.001-04:00

The following column appeared in the October 29, 2008, issue of The Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our Pre-Election Special, wherein we make you look as much like the candidate of your choice as we can. We are also running our Pre-Halloween Special wherein we’ll make you look as creepy as we can, although some of our customers don’t need help in that department. Finally, we are running our Harvest Hair special, wherein we will glue hair we cut off somebody else on to the thinner areas of your head. We only ask that if you opt for the last special, you do not put on a hat for the rest of the day unless you are really attached to that hat—because it will be attached to you for several weeks. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Are folks in Rock Bottom excited about the up-coming election? It’s only a few days away!—Pol Liti Gal

Dear Pol: Folks in Rock Bottom rarely get excited about anything, especially something that happens on a pretty regular basis as often as every four years. Most Rock Bottomittes think that having to get up from their recliners and go to the polls where they don’t even get a free lunch or the chance to watch mud-wrassling is more trouble than it’s worth. Also, since the typical Rock Bottom couple rarely agrees with each other, they figure that it’s a waste of gas to go out to vote when the wife’s vote will cancel out the husband’s and vice-versa.

Dear Ida B. I have figured out what to do with all the campaign literature that has been sent to me. I’m going to stuff it in the bags of all those pesky trick-or-treaters who will be coming around my house. What do you think of that?—Boo

Dear Booed: I think you will be the victim of several Halloween pranks after the kids see what you gave them. Good luck getting your outhouse down off your roof.

Dear Ida B. The leaves have been falling pretty hard in my yard lately, and everyday my wife keeps nagging me to rake them up and bag them and haul them to the dump. However, with all the football on TV, I just can’t get myself out of the recliner to rake them. What I have been doing is, after both my wife and the next-door neighbor go to work, I take my leaf-blower and blow all the leaves next door. However, the next morning after I get off from working the night shift, all the leaves are back in my yard and my wife starts in on me again. Do you think my neighbor is getting suspicious because he doesn’t have any trees in his yard?—Not-Rakin

Dear Knothead: Yes. For all the effort you have spent blowing those leaves next door everyday, you could have blown them into the back of your pick-up and hauled them off. Please tell your wife that all the nagging she’s been doing has probably put a strain on her and she needs to come down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop for a complete makeover. Also, we will clue her in to the most efficient ways to nag you.

Dear Ida B. I am in an awful fix. My in-laws were coming to supper the other night and I had just set the table when the cat hopped up on it and threw up. Well, I scraped up the mess and threw it into an empty casserole dish and meant to take it to the garbage but then the door bell rang, so I just left the dish on the table when I went to answer it. Don’t you know, there stood my mama-in-law and her sister and a couple more assorted in-laws way earlier than I was expecting them. Well, we all got to talking, and then the oven timer rang and I went into the kitchen to take the cornbread out of the oven. I forgot about that casserole dish. In the meantime, all them in-laws went in the dining room and started without me. By the time I had scraped the burnt parts off the cornbread and joined them, they’d eaten just about everything on the table except the pattern off the plates. That casserole dish was empty! The worst part was my mama-in-law said it was the best thing I ever made and could she have the recipe. Ida B., I can’t tell her the truth and I have been putting her off for several days now. What can I do? She can be real persistent. And I can’t lie to her, can I?—Perplexed

Dear Perplexed: About all you can do is confess. Just tell her that it’s something you threw together at the last minute and you can’t quite remember what ingredients were actually in it, other than they were leftovers. That explanation would be about as close to the truth as you can get without actually telling the whole truth.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Failures, Tree-savers, Newcomers, and Haunted

2009-10-17T21:47:00.005-04:00

This column originally appeared in October 15, 2008, issue of The Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our Palin special for those of y’all Republican ladies who’ve got enough hair for me to tease up on top and hang down on the bottom and who want to emulate the vice-presidential candidate on election day. I have always said that big hair will come back, and doggone if it hasn’t. Whether this trend will last for the next four years is anybody’s guess, but it will at least last until early November. For y’all Democrat ladies, we are sorry there ain’t no female vice-presidential candidate for y’all to emulate, but maybe next time. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B: I notice that in the office of Rock Bottom High School (where Bubba Jr. spends a lot of his time when he ain’t actually suspended), there is a banner that says, “At Rock Bottom High School, failure is not an option.” Does that mean that failure is a requirement?—Bubba’s Mama

Dear BM: Actually, that is only half the banner. What it actually says is “At Rock Bottom High School, failure is not an option; failure is a tradition.” According to principal Alma Motter, the only tradition at Rock Bottom High School that has endured through the generations is failure. She is sorry they did not have a wall big enough to put up the whole thing.

Dear Ida B. Recently I went out to one of them real classy eating places (where they even offer a combo instead of making you order the drinks and fries separate). Well, I decided to go to the indoor privy (I told you they was classy!) where I heard you could also wash your hands if you hand a mind to, which I did since it was free. However, they didn’t have a towel or even a roll of paper towels. What they had was some gizmo that blew hot air onto your hands. There was a little sign on it that said using it save trees. Well, I looked out the window and didn’t see any trees being saved, but I figured they was being saved someplace else. Anyhow, I used it about ten times so I figured I saved ten trees. What I want to know is how do I go about getting them trees?—Needs the Wood.

Dear Woody: There ain’t any trees actually saved, but every time you use that electric air-blowing gizmo, you are helping to remove part of a mountaintop in West VA or Kentucky or SW VA, because that’s where the coal is coming from to make the electricity to power that gizmo. The trees that would have made the paper towels are part of a crop that a tree farmer plants specifically to sell to the paper mill. Not using paper towels to save trees is like not eating Fritos to save corn. Now, if the tree farmers around Rock Bottom can’t sell their crop on account there ain’t any demand, their wives won’t be able to afford to come to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop to get their hair done and I will lose money. Also, trees are renewable, but it is doggone hard to put back a mountaintop the way it was after its insides have been scooped out.

Dear Ida B. I have been a resident of Rock Bottom for nigh onto twenty years, but I was recently told I am not a resident in good standing on account I am still a newcomer. How can I get to be a resident in good standing?—Wants to Belong

Dear Wanting: Very few residents of Rock Bottom are in good standing. Standing takes too much effort, even if they slouch. Most are sitting down, especially in their recliners. If you mean when will you be fully accepted as an official resident of Rock Bottom, that can take generations. If your grandma had gone to school with everybody else’s grandmas, that would have helped. If members of your family have lived in the same house for over fifty years, that shows a commitment, especially if y’all still have all y’all’s previous cars and trucks used as yard art.

Dear Ida B. Will there be a haunted house in Rock Bottom this Halloween? I just love creepy stuff—Tricker Treat

Dear Tricksy: Well, you have come to the right town. There isn’t just one particular haunted house because we have plenty of creepy places so as it is. Just go knock on the door of any run-down looking house in Rock Bottom (which will be most of them) and offer to pay whoever answers a quarter for you to come in a look around. Odds are good they’ll let you in, but some might hold out for fifty cents. You’ll see plenty of dust, cobwebs, spiders, and maybe even a few snakes. There is no telling what else you might see, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you don’t have a lot of time and just want to be scared real quick, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop before a few of my regular customers get their make-overs. They’re pretty scary until I have worked on them for a while. If seeing them don’t give you a scare, we can throw a handful of expired bait at you when you aren’t looking.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Fair Pig Fatalities, Ear-Cleaning, & Fashion Fits

2009-10-06T14:53:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared in the October 1, 2008, Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our pre-Halloween special, “You Might Look a Fright, But Your Hair Don’t Have To.” You would be surprised at how the right hairdo can take folks’ eyes off all the sags, bags, zits, and pits your face is packing around. If you can’t afford a facelift, you can probably scrape up enough for a new hairdo. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My prize sow. Porky Soo, had a freak accident at the state fair the other day. She’d just won “Best in Show” and was taking her victory lap around the ring when she jumped the fence and ended up in the bumper car ride where she suffered fatal bruises. The Rev. Al E. Looyah, of Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit, just happening to be exiting the hoochie-koochie tent where he’d been ministering to those poor gals who hardly have any clothes to wear. Well, he administered last rites and said he’d see to Porky Soo’s cremation and arrange a nice service for her, but he had to hurry home for a blessing of the backyard barbecue in his subdivision. I helped him load the body of my deceased sow into the trunk of his Cadillac. He drove off, and I went to the hootchie-koochie show to take my mind off my loss. Two days later he calls and says he has her ashes for me and we can discuss what kind of service I want and/or can afford. I pick up the box of her ashes, and while we are discussing the service, he gets a phone call from what must be some kind of literary program (at least I heard him use the word “bookie”) and he thought he better continue the call in the other room. While he was out of the room, I peeked in the box and noticed several half-burned charcoal briquettes in amongst the ashes. I left before he got back. Ida B., there is something suspicious about this situation. Can you shed some light on this?—Bereaved

Dear Bereaved: I probably could, but I think you can figure it out for yourself. All I will say is that Rev. Al’s wife Glorie Hallie was in Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Life Bait Shop yesterday, telling everybody what a great pig roast they’d just had in their new barbeque pit. She said that money has been a little tight lately and she couldn’t believe how lucky they were to get something to cook for all their guests on the spur of the moment like that.

Dear Ida B. I took a gal out to dinner on our first date the other night. I really wanted to impress her, so I let her order the combo instead of just the Big Mac. Midway through dinner, I felt my ear clog up and I had left my keys under the seat of the truck, so I didn’t have a key handy to dig out the earwax. The fingernail I use as a back-up ear-cleaner had broken off when I opened my last can of beer so it didn’t reach far enough. I didn’t know if it was good manners to ask if I could use her keys for ear-cleaning purposes, so I decided not to risk it. Anyhow, I couldn’t hear real well through the rest of dinner, so I just nodded to anything she said. I am now afraid that I might have agreed to things I wouldn’t have agreed to if I could have known what it was she was asking about, because when I called her the next day, she was talking about setting a date. Can you help me?—All Ears

Dear Earfull: It is never good manners to clean your ear with someone else’s key—especially somebody you are trying to impress. That is why you always carry an extra key just for that purpose. You could have excused yourself to go out to the truck, but that is risky on account some gals might see a better looking guy in line and will make his acquaintance by the time you get back. Anyhow, if you think this gal is planning for the two of y’all to get hitched, you have two choices: go through with it or don’t go through with it. If you go through with it, consider how cheap you got off. Now you don’t have to spend any more money trying to impress her. If you want to break up, it is best to let her do the breaking up. Next time you take her out, wear a wedding ring and tell her that there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell her. She will see the ring and immediately break up. Be warned that she might throw something, so try to do this in a public place when y’all are eating burgers and not big plates of spaghetti. Another reason for being in public is that there will be witnesses in case she does serious harm to you.

Dear Ida B. My teen-aged daughter Bubbette saw on TV where the new fashions are gonna be based on jumpsuits, relaxed pants, and stripes. She is pitching a fit for me to get her them things, which I cannot afford. She says her friends will make fun of her if she don’t dress in the latest fashion—or at least retro fashion. Ida B., what is a mama to do when her daughter pitches a fit to get high-fashion that we can’t afford?—Fit Pitcher’s Mama

Dear FPM: You are in luck. The Rock Bottom Jail is having its annual yard sale, wherein they are selling out-dated coveralls. These coveralls are kinda like a jumpsuit, only more relaxed, and they’re striped (plus being as old as they are qualifies them as retro), so you can cover all the fashion bases in one outfit. I recommend you buy several.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Wedding Hassles, Sharing Feelings, Hauling Mermaids, & Finding Yourself

2009-09-23T22:14:00.007-04:00

This post originally appeared in the September 17, 2008, Smith Mountain Eagle

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we running our pre-fall special, “If Your Hair is Falling Out or Falling Limp, We Can Help.” You would be surprised at what we can do with superglue and heavy-duty hair spray, as well as hair we have cut off other folks that is still perfectly good. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I have just started a new business, Weddings While You Wait. I noticed a lot of Rock Bottom folks are putting off getting married on account of all the hassles of getting married—especially the arguments between the mama and mama-in-law on who does what and who foists off the expense of all the decorations and food onto who else. Well, I have a perfectly good house and a nice yard in a rural area. It’s a lot more house than I need, so I decided I might as well use the downstairs as a combination wedding chapel/reception area for them that wants to get married without the usual hassles. All they got to do is show up. What do you think?—Wedded Bliss

Dear Wedded Blues: Part of the appeal of a big wedding is the hassles. If everybody can get upset, complain about the expense and who is (or ain’t) invited, argue about where to have the wedding, and lament about what to wear, etc. before the actual wedding takes place, it gives the two families involved time to see each other at their worst and decide if they really want the two families to join up. If you rob them of all the hassles, there is no telling what might happen after the wedding when some suddenly realize they don’t see eye to eye with their new in-laws.

Dear Ida B. I’ve been married for two months now and my husband won’t share his feelings with me. I don’t have a clue what he is thinking. Also, he is hanging out with his buddies more instead of giving me his undivided attention. What should I do?—New Bride

Dear Newbie: You should be glad he don’t share his feelings. That means he ain’t got anything to complain about. You should also be glad that he ain’t hanging around the house. If he hung around the house, you’d have to keep cleaning up after him and fixing him whatever he wanted to eat. I have addressed the question of shared feelings before, with the same answer. However, I understand that the term “share his feelings” is out-dated. Some of my younger clientele tell me that men now text-message their feelings. Trust me that you do not want your husband’s undivided attention except when you are nagging him. What seems so flattering when you are young can get to be a real nuisance once you hit thirty and want some time to yourself or for a girls’ night out with a dozen or so of you best friends or when a couple of screaming toddlers also want your undivided attention. Be glad he is hanging out with his buddies and not underfoot.

Dear Ida B. I was traveling this summer, and passed a small spiffy white van on I-95 with the logo of “Mermaid Transportation.” I got to wondering—how could a mermaid drive? She'd only have a big tail and fins, right? How could she put on the brake suddenly? Maybe the van was transporting a mermaid. You know, she could have been inside a tank, sloshing around. I figured with you bein’ in the bait business, you might could answer my questions.—Puzzled

Dear Puzzled: If the van was indeed transporting a mermaid (which I doubt, but stranger things have ben transported in the back of Rock Bottom pick-up trucks, so my customers tell me), odds are good she wasn’t the driver for the reason you have given. Likely she was sloshing around in a tank. While I am indeed in the bait business, I have never heard of anybody using a mermaid for bait. For one thing, what are you gonna catch with it? And how would you put it on your hook? While Slick Water Lake has some pretty big fish (based on the stories of “the one that got away” reported by several of my bait customers), none would justify using a mermaid for bait. On the other hand, maybe you could tie a rope around the mermaid’s tail and she could catch fish with her hands and fling them into your boat.

Dear Ida B. I just graduated from Rock Bottom High School and have decided to take time off to find myself before looking for a job or going to college. My problem is I don’t know how to find myself. Can you help?—Undecided

Dear Unemployed and Uneducated: Just come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. We have some real big mirrors. Just stand in front of one and look. There you are! Keep in mind, that I do charge a finder’s fee. While you’re here, you might find that you need some help in the looks department. We can help with that, too—for a fee. By now, you ought have noticed that everything has its price, and the only way to pay it is to get a job or to get some education that will help you get a job. You might want to see if you can find yourself in line at the employment agency or at Rock Bottom Community College.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Micro-Beer, Excess Veggies, & Meddling Parents

2009-09-11T20:47:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sept. 2, 2008 Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our “Salvage Your Looks Before It’s Too Late” special in conjunction with the Rock Bottom House of Polyester’s annual spandex foundation garment sale. If Father Time has already taken away what Mother Nature gave you, you need to stop in to see us so we can disguise as much of the damage as possible Also, if your hair is limp on account of the high humidity from last week’s storms, we can fix that too. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I hear tell some guy was gonna open a microbrewery in downtown Rock bottom only town council wouldn’t let him. What’s with that? Granted, I’d rather have a maxi-slug rather than a micro-sip, but I’ll take what I can get if it’s convenient.—Beer Belly

Dear Beer Gut: What you heard was correct. Seems like the other businessmen in town didn’t want a legal enterprise taking away their business (though they’d like to make it very clear that what they isn’t actually a business—it’s merely a sampling of a home remedy for medicinal purposes for their special friends), so they put pressure on town council to oppose it. Even Rev. Al E. Looyah of the Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit says it might even cut into the church’s all-the-communion-wine-you-can-drink special.

Dear Ida B. I didn’t plant a garden this year, so everybody that did has been giving me vegetables. At first it wasn’t so bad, but when I got home yesterday, there were so many zucchinis piled in front of my door that I couldn’t get inside. And that was after, I crawled over the pile of tomatoes on my porch, which I could hardly see for all the cucumbers stacked up on my steps. If folks would just ask me if I needed any vegetables, I could refuse them, but they sneak their excess onto my property while I’m away. What can I do?—Desperate

Dear Desperate: I suggest you bag up all the vegetables and wait until about midnight. Then have your kids disguise themselves and leave the bags full of veggies on the neighbor’s stoops. Tell the kids it is like a reverse Trick-or-Treat. The reason you want to have your kids make the drop is that they can run a lot faster than you can but can’t carry as much, just in case someone should come out and make you take double the veggies home.

Dear Ida B. I am a first year teacher who just can’t cope. My 25 students are all wonderful, but their parents won’t leave me along. Every day, several call “just to keep in touch” and it takes my entire planning period to talk to them. When I get home, I have a dozen or more emails from the ones who didn’t call me at school. Some of the persistent ones text message me in class to see if their kids are all right. Last night, at least six called to tell me they hadn’t finished their kids’ science projects yet and could they have an extension. What can I do?—Swamped with Work

Dear Swampy: This is a modern problem. When I went to school—back in the days of parental non-involvement, parents didn’t want to know what was going on at school, figuring that what they didn’t know wouldn’t cause them grief. The important thing was that the kids were out of the house and not messing it up. A few years ago, the helicopter parents started hovering. Now, we got the jet-ski parents: they rush in, make waves, demand your attention, and leave you bobbing about it their wake. About the time you’ve recovered, they zoom in again. If you change phone numbers and email addresses every couple of weeks, you might get a little relief. But don’t bet on it. However, if you are so frazzled from dealing with them that your hair is a mess, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and we’ll fix you up.

Dear Ida B. I have several kids in the Rock Bottom schools, and their teachers just won’t cooperate with me. I know it is important for parents to be involved, so I try to call each teacher daily to let them know that I’m there for them and my kids. However, yesterday when I called the twins’ teacher to see if they’d eaten all their lunch that I spent nearly half an hour packing, she hung up on me. When I called my daughter’s gym teacher to make sure that Bubbette sits on the bench instead of doing aerobics so she doesn’t get over-heated on these hot days, she hung up on me, too. At the high school, I couldn’t even get through to Bubba Jr.’s science teacher to tell him I needed more time to finish his science project. He wouldn’t answer his cellphone, and the school secretary wouldn’t even let me talk to him because they were having a fire drill or something. Well, Ida B., it ain’t like they have real fires during the drills! She should have put me through. I have tried calling the teachers at home, because they’re bound to be there at midnight, but all of them seem to have unlisted numbers. What can I do to stay involved in my kids’ education? —Concerned Mama

Dear Meddling Ma: The only way you can stay really involved in your kids’ education is to homeschool them. The Rock Bottom teachers will thank you. Your kids might not be so grateful though. But you can communicate your concerns to yourself whenever you want without having yourself hang up on you or refuse to pass on a message. Another possibility is that you get less involved with your kids and more involved with your looks. Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop can help you with that.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Boat-bangers, Designer Dawgs, & Cover-ups

2009-09-07T08:18:00.006-04:00

This column originally appeared in the August 20, 2008, issue of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our Back-To-School Special that will get your kid fit to be seen in public after lying around all summer and letting his/her hair grow wild. Not only will we give your kid a decent haircut and/or style that his/her grandmother would approve of, we will also attempt to patch up any pierced places. However there is a limit to what can be done with duct tape and Superglue, so don’t get your hopes up to high. Also, we will dye over any weird colors that your kid’s hair might be while he/she attempted to find himself/herself this summer. If our dye-job won’t cover the weird color, we will shave his/her head. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Out here in my cove at Slick Water Lake, the stripers abound. However, so do the fishermen. Many of them have been banging on their boats with poles because they say it attracts the fish. Ida B, I don’t see how it could do that. I was taught that you have to be quiet when you fish. What is going on? All this banging is driving me crazy. And my visiting grandkids can hardly hear their heavy metal music on their iPods.—Tired of the Noise

Dear Tired: Every time the boat bangers appear in your cove, give your grandkids a set of drums and an electric guitar and have them make their own music on the dock. The boat bangers will get the message. Or else the fish will leave and they will follow them.

Dear Ida B. My kids are pestering me to get them a dog. They don’t want just any old dog. They want one of them designer dogs. What the heck is a designer dog?—Doggone If I Know

Dear Doggone: Back in the old days we called designer dawgs by their proper term: mutts. If we were being polite, we said crossbreeds. Anyhow, somewhere along the line, somebody must have owned an expensive lady poodle that had a brief but passionate affair with a traveling male lab. Knowing that the puppies weren’t registerable and he’d be stuck with them, the poodle’s owner called them labradoodles and extolled their virtues. Plus they were rare. Folks want what is up-scale and rare, so the breed took off. Well, it wasn’t long until folks were breeding puggles and yorkie-poos and peke-a-poms and goodness knows what. What you do is go to the pound and pick out a slightly used dawg that looks personable. If you can find out what breeds it is, fine. If not, make up a couple. Just tell your kids the blueticoodle or dober-poo or rotty-pom you got is the latest designer dawg and they are the first in the neighborhood to have one. The dawg will be grateful you adopted it, and the kids might be grateful, too—at least until they figure out what they want next. Just be glad your kids don’t want one of them little accessory dawgs made popular by the Chihuahua that Paris Hilton used to tote around in her purse. Ain’t nothing like reaching into your purse or pocket for your keys and being bit by a little dawg to ruin your day, even though it does discourage pickpockets.

Dear Ida B. What with school starting soon, I am about ready to buy my kids some school clothes. I was kind of waiting for Rock Bottom High School to issue it’s dress code for this year, so I don’t get stuck like I was last year with a couple dozen tube tops and Daisy Duke shorts that my gals won’t be allowed to wear. Now I hear that kids can wear anything they want to school. How can that be? Don’t the school officials realize what some of them kids are likely to wear (or not wear as the case may be)?—Concerned Mom

Dear Mommie: Don’t worry. While the kids can wear anything they want to school, whatever they wear has got to be covered up by blaze orange coveralls as soon as they walk in the schoolhouse door. According to principal Alma Motter, the school got tired of arguing with the kids over what was and wasn’t appropriate attire. Some of the gals argued that if it was good enough for Britney Spears to wear in public, it out to be good enough to wear to school, but her style don’t cut it in Rock Bottom. Anyhow, it was determined that wearing coveralls was equally unfair to all and still allowed kids to wear what they pleased as long as nobody else could see it. The coveralls have plenty of pockets, so kids don’t need designer backpacks to tote around their iPods, cellphones, and other overpriced electronic doo-dads. Plus, if kids cut school, that blaze orange really stands out. If they’re sentenced to jail, they’re ahead of the game. And don’t forget how handy it will be during deer season. Kids won’t even have to go home to change anymore before heading to the woods. Alma Motter expects other school districts to follow the Rock Bottom trend.

Dear Ida B. some school systems are considering a four-day week. Will Rock Bottom do this?—Hopeful

Dear Don’t Get Your Hopes Up: It is unlikely. Parents wouldn’t put up with it. Some members of the Rock Bottom PTA have even asked for seven-day school weeks so they don’t have to have their kids underfoot, but the teachers can’t stand them for that long, so the seven-day week ain’t gonna happen. The current five-day week is a pretty good compromise.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Fish Pedicure, Dawg Park, Reality, & DNA Tests

2009-08-26T16:52:00.010-04:00

This column originally appeared in the August 6, 2008, Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running a special on “Fish Pedicures” (see first letter), the latest trend in foot beautification. It has been so hot that folks don’t want their hair fixed, but they are glad to set down and stick their hot feet in a bowl of cool water no matter what they got to share it with. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I saw in both the Big Mall City paper and on TV that “fish pedicures” are the latest thing. You stick your feet in a pan of carp and they nibble all the debris off your toes. It seems to be you’d have a headstart on this, what with the live bait and all. Are you gonna do it?—Sounds Fishy 2 Me

Dear Fishy: We figured it’s worth a try down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Like you said, we’ve got an advantage. At first we thought about just having customers stick their tootsies into the bait tank, but the crawdads might become too attached to the feet and some customers have a low threshold of pain. What we are doing is dipping out a bunch of minnows, putting them in a pan of water, and having the customers stick their feet into that. We do require that feet be clean before they do so. Otherwise, the minnows might not survive, and they are our best-selling bait—but only if they’re alive. We also offer a half-price special on minnows that have known your feet up close and personal if you want to take them home to do fish pedicures on your own or use them for bait or a combination thereof.

Dear Ida B. I heard tell that Rock Bottom town council wanted to close the skateboard park on account of so much vandalism and that they didn’t want to build a dawg park that some other folks wanted. Do you know whatever came of all that.—Skate N. Dawg-owner

Dear Dawg Skater: You are in luck. What they decided to do was combine the two. They figured that having dawgs run loose in the park will keep vandals from vandalizing and keep skaters skating—probably faster with a bunch of dawgs snapping at their heels and/or wheels. Plus the dawgs will get plenty of exercise, which is what folks wanted in the first place. This is a win-win situation for everybody except for the vandals who will just have to take their spray paint elsewhere if they don’t want to be gnawed on, possibly to the Rock Bottom Museum of Art’s interactive exhibit where nobody will notice.

Dear Ida B. I have been watching that reality show where teenagers have to raise babies and I want to know how I can donate my triplets to them. As I see it, it would be like getting free babysitting for however long the show runs and I would finally have some time to myself. Also, has there been any talk about having a reality show in Rock Bottom? If so, what would it be like?—TV Watcher

Dear TV addict: You are outta luck. They already have all the babies they can use on that show, plus the show is over. There has been some talk about a Rock Bottom Reality Show, but nothing has been decided yet. For one thing, Rock Bottom reality is pretty boring. If there was to be a “Survivor Rock Bottom,” for instance, everybody would want to be voted off first. A “World’s Greatest Mule” reality show might draw a little interest, but how long can you watch plowing?

Dear Ida B. My next-to-last ex-wife has been pestering me so much about the child support payments, even though I have told her it is a waste to buy all them boys shoes in the summertime, that I came up with an idea that maybe if I could prove the kids ain’t mine, I wouldn’t have to pay and could use the money for payments on my bass boat. What I done was arrange for them kids to get DNA tests just like they do on Jerry Springer and Montel and all, only I used a ringer for me, so my own personal DNA wouldn’t be involved. Anyhow, my long-time buddy Bubba agreed to play like he was me after I got him drunk enough. Bubba and the boys took the test, and it came back positive. Now the judge says the test shows I am the daddy and I got to pay up. Now, if I was to fess up to the judge that I didn’t actually take the test, he would hold me in contempt of court like he has threatened to do on other occasions when my ex-wives took me to court. What I need to know is, given how things turned out, do I have to pay Bubba the $100 I owe him for playing like he was me, or can I put that toward my boat payment?—Bubba’s Former Friend

Dear Former Friend: We have discussed your problem at length down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop and we all find you pretty contemptible. The honorable thing to do is pay Bubba, regardless of how unhonorable he might have been in the past. We all came to the conclusion that you and Bubba probably deserve each other’s friendship, but your ex-wives and the kids deserve better.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Staycations, Recliners, & Scantily Clad Gals

2009-08-14T22:39:00.002-04:00

This post originally appeared in the July 23, 2008, issue of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our mid-season bait clearance, so come on in and get some great deals on stuff that likely won’t live much longer in all this heat. We ain’t running a special on much else on account it has been so hot that most of the regular customers have just stayed home and let their hair wilt.

Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I keep hearing about all them “staycations” where folks don’t leave town on account of the gas prices but still try to have a vacation. Does Rock Bottom have any staycation opportunities?—Ready to Do Something

Dear Ready: Not many folks stay in Rock Bottom if they can help it, but what with high prices and all, they are now forced to do so. Consequently, some groups and individuals have come forth to fill the vacation gap—or maybe widen it. Anyhow, here they are:

Haycation: Local agrarian professional Haywood “Hay” Fields will be cutting hay before long and offers the opportunity for city folks to experience farming up-close and personal as they help him load hay. Why pay expensive gym fees when—for a lot less money—you can get more exercise and a great tan on any exposed body parts, plus work up a better sweat lifting heavy bales in the hot sun?
Daycation: O. L. Buzzard of Buzzard’s Taxidermy and Day Care will keep you kiddies amused as they watch him do his thing and help him clean up afterward. Since nothing but varmints is currently in season, most of what he stuffs during the summer is interesting roadkill. Watching him do this can provide the educational opportunity of a lifetime to your kiddies that you need to get out of the house because they’re driving you crazy.
Praycation: The Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit is offering an alternative to Vacation Bible School—Bingo Camp. They are praying that lots of kids will sign up to work on their math and alphabet skills as well as get them hooked on the Surging Inner Spirit’s main fund-raising activity. If you want your kids to experience the unique fellowship that can only be found at a Bingo game—and possibly win a little money, call the Rev. Al E. Looyah and get them signed up right away. A free Bingo marker will be given to the first fifty kids signed up.
Waycation: This is mainly a do-it-yourself kind of vacation suggested by certain Rock Bottomites who wish to remain anonymous. What you do is go to an out-of-the-way cove on Slick Water Lake where there are a lot of cars parked near one of the houses. Park your truck several hundred feet away so you don’t arouse suspicion. Then go in and greet everybody there like you’ve known them for years. Odds are good that by mid-summer, so many Slick Water Lakers have had so much company that they’re pretty shell-shocked and will assume that anyone dropping in is somebody they know even if they can’t remember your name. After you’ve had plenty to eat and drink, move on down to the next place that looks like it’s having a party.
Altercation: This is one of the current specials down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, wherein we will fix you up so good that you won’t even know yourself when you leave. Be warned that our “Big hair With Flair” special will alter your looks so much that even your hubbie is also unlikely to recognize you. Several ladies who partook of this special in the past ended up getting a dee-vorce on account their hubbies, who didn’t recognize their own wives, made some lewd remarks to them. But don’t worry—our altercation special comes with a discount coupon for dee-vorce representation from Maycomb Philmore Payne, my personal dee-vorce attorney. Since altering your looks can take some time, plan to spend the entire day at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop.
Laycation: This is what a lot of Rock Bottom males do most of the time—lay in their recliners and demand their wives bring them a beer or a sandwich. In fact, this has no doubt inspired the next letter:

Dear Ida B. Since my husband retired, he gets no exercise whatsoever. All he does is lay around in his recliner and channel surf the TV. What should I do?—Concerned Wife

Dear Conned Wife: Hide the remote. Then he will have to get up to change channels. It ain’t much, but it’s a start. The other thing you might do is get replace the recliner with an exercise bike and duct-tape the remote to one of the pedals. Then he will at least have to peddle a little if he wants to change channels.

Dear Ida B. A couple weeks ago, I went to what the Church of the Surging Inner Spirit’s scholarship pageant with my husband. I thought it would be an educational experience for us and we might learn something. Ida B, them gals hardly had a stitch on during part of the competition! Do you know why?—Incensed

Dear Insensitive. I talked to the Rev. Al E. Looyah the last time he was in to beg me for a discount on bait, and he said it was to keep the contestants honest so they couldn’t hide any answers in their clothes. Also, he said it was a lot easier to find judges if the gals didn’t wear much, plus it was what was in their hearts and minds rather than what they was wearing on their bodies that really counted, so you got no reason to complain.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Enlightening, Fly-swatters, Holy Clothes, & Fools

2009-08-05T13:32:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on July 9, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our Big Bang Left-Over 4th of July Special on dynamite hairstyles, booming bait, and fizzled-out fireworks. If you need a new look or a properly baited hook, y’all come see us. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Rumor has it that you have been writing this column for 10 years this month. Is that true? If so, don’t you ever run out of stuff to write about?—Incredulous

Dear Incredible: Yes, I have. Time sure flies when you’re having fun. And the remarkable thing is that I have not aged one bit in the last ten years. The column started because some of my customers, who need enlightening in more ways than one, told me, “Ida B., you ought to take your advice and give it to someone else, so that is what I did. Since I am so good at telling folks what to do and where to go, Scoop Manyure, the editor of the Rock Bottom News, gave me space on the obituary page when not enough folks had died to fill up the space. I also figured that if I wrote a column, then I could use the new computer down at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop as a tax write-off, just in case using it for bait research, new hair-do ideas, and making my manicurist Honey Sue Sweetwater’s presence known all over MySpace (she has 1,375,867 friends) wasn’t enough. Anyhow, I moved from paper to paper and now I’m here, still enlightening them what need it.

Dear Ida B. I am suffering a lot of stress not that my triplets and two sets of twins are out of school. They keep hitting each other and complaining they are bored or hungry or both. They go in and out and let flies in. The slamming door wakes the toddler and the baby. I can’t afford to keep buying fly spray. Plus, the slamming door wakes the toddler and the baby. One of the kids read your column last month where you talked about going green, and now they are saying I’m so out of it on account I haven’t gone green and it is damaging their self-esteem. What’s a Rock Bottom Mama to do?—At Wit’s End

Dear Witty End: It seems like I give this suggestion every summer, but here I go again: Get them kids some fly-swatters and let them go at the flies and maybe each other. The fly swatters will help your kids with eye-hand coordination, will let them find an outlet for their violent tendencies, and will substantially reduce the fly population. Swatting flies is a heck of a lot greener than spraying, as well as considerably cheaper. If your kids really want to go green, have them put in some gardens and grow their own food. Digging and weeding a garden will keep them too tired and busy to cause much trouble, and kids naturally like to play in dirt. Getting a flyswatter for yourself might be a good idea. You can give them kids a swat when they don’t listen to you, and a few swats might discourage your hubby when he comes flitting around you, too.

Dear Ida B. I just heard that the Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit is selling holy clothing. Now, Ida B, I have heard of holy water, but never holy clothing. What’s with this?—Wants to Know

Dear Wanting: It ain’t holy clothing—it’s holey clothes. And they’ve already been sold. Whatever your source of gossip is, it’s running a couple weeks late. I recommend you come down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop where our gossip is always current and sometimes even originates here. Anyhow, Rev. Al E. Looyah’s wife, Glorie-Hallie, cleaned out her closet last month and found out that the moths had been busier than usual. Before she could sell her clothes at the church’s weekly yard sale, she had to convince folks that the holey clothes were worth buying, and she did. For instance, she convinced some folks that kids like ripped up clothes, so anybody that wears clothes with holes will naturally look younger. Plus the holes give a little ventilation, so that helps during the current hot weather. Glorie-Hallie made enough to buy herself a whole new wardrobe up at the Rock Bottom House of Polyester. However, everybody else she knew was sporting the holey clothes, so she felt left out and had to cut some holes in her new clothes so she’d be as stylish as everyone else.

Dear Ida B. If a fool and his money are soon parted, does that mean I should only date foolish men so they will spend more money on me? Should I marry a fool?—Confused

Dear Confused: If your potential dates are fools, how did they have the sense to acquire much money in the first place, and if they did, why didn’t they part with it before meeting you? If you think marrying a fool is the only way to get money, then you are just fooling yourself.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Living Cheap, Fat, Warm & in Jail, Etc.

2009-07-13T20:34:00.002-04:00

This post originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on June 25, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are still running our 4^th of July special. If you are feeling blue, a new henna rinse and some bright red lipstick will perk you up. And if your skin has that while pallor of somebody who can’t afford to soak up sun at some expensive resort, a few dips in our tanning tank will bronze you right up. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I keep hearing about this global warming. What I want to know is, how do I get it to heat my doublewide? It got pretty cold in there last winter.—Frosty

Dear Frosty: Town Council is currently studying this, but they ain’t been making much progress. One of the big problems is, if they get it, how they would turn it off in summer when it’s plenty warm anyhow. As soon as they come up with a way to do it that don’t cost much, I will let you know.

Dear Ida B. I heard that the obesity epidemic has just about bottomed out, so folks ain ‘t getting much fatter than they have been. I wonder if this means that my current wife Junie Bugg will stop gaining the thirty or forty pounds she’s been packing on every year since we got married ten years ago. Also, does this mean I can drink all the beer I want and not have my beer gut increase any more. Our singlewide sags substantially in the middle. Will it spring back into place, do you reckon?—Heavyweight

Dear Heavyweight: The answer to all your questions is “probably not.”

Dear Ida B. It has got so expensive to live that I am looking for a cheap way to live. I can’t hardly afford more than one meal a day, and I can’t afford gas to move my car that I am living out of to another parking lot because Wally World is getting suspicious. Do you have any ideas?—Maxed Out

Dear Max: Several guys in Rock Bottom came up with the idea of getting arrested and sent to jail where they get what they refer to as “three hots and a cot.” Arrestees also are given an orange jumpsuit, so that pretty well covers clothing. They say that the jails in bigger cities also have TV, but the one in Rock Bottom doesn’t, except for the cell that overlooks the window of Rock Bottom Appliance Emporium. However, Rock Bottom Town Council recently voted to charge prisoners room and board while they are incarcerated, an act which has reduced the Rock Bottom crime rate substantially. Consequently, if you want to go the “three hots and a cot” route, you ought to leave town and get arrested someplace better.

Dear Ida B. I am vacationing at Slick Water Lake and want to send postcards to the folks back home. However, I am concerned that personnel at the Rock Bottom Post Office will read the messages I write. How can I prevent that?—Tourist

Dear Tourist: Put the postcards inside envelopes. Then duct tape the envelopes.

Dear Ida B. My step-mama has been real hateful to me for years. She always favors her own kids over me and makes me do all the drudgery stuff like clean out the gunk in the sink drain and de-poop the dawg pen. Daddy is pretty clueless, plus he is always off in the woods somewhere. I got me a camera and took a bunch of pictures of her doing all kinds of mean things, and I sent the film off to be developed. What now?—Cindy Rella

Dear Cindy. Someday your prints will come. Then you can contact Dr. Phil.

Dear Ida B. I have been appointed to the casserole committee at Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit for its after-Bingo-all-you-can eat buffet, although I had my heart set on the congealed salad committee because that is so much easier. Anyhow, do you think I should use name-brand mushroom soup as the sauce for my casseroles, or will the store brand be OK? It is so much cheaper and I plan on using Velveeta, which everyone knows is a name brand, for one of the other ingredients.—Cook N.

Dear Cookie. Go with the store brand. I have seen some of them Bingo players eat. They work up such an appetite during the game that they pretty much wolf down whatever is in front of them, without even bothering to see what it is. I would also suggest that you select soft ingredients rather than crunchy ones. A lot of Rock Bottomites sometimes forget to wear their store teeth, and they appreciate having something to eat other than congealed salad. That’s where your casseroles come in. They will bless you for using ingredients that don’t require excessive chewing, regardless of brand name or not.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Going Green and Bad Buildings

2009-07-04T12:50:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the June 11, 2008, issue of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our graduation special on a gift certificate for bait and beauty services. If you don’t know what to get that obnoxious kid that you are obligated to give a present to, you can’t go wrong with our gift certificate. Odds are good that the kid will soon be going out for job interviews and will need a haircut. Or maybe the kid will just want to go sit on the dock until he finds himself and will need bait. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I keep hearing about “going green” being a good thing. What the heck does this mean? My yard is pretty much green—at least in the places where the dog poop has fertilized it—and my John Deere is mostly green, but my six kids keep saying we ain’t green enough. They have picked up this “going green” idea at school, which just goes to show that if you educate a kid above his ability, you got nothing but aggravation. I am also having problems with the high cost of living, especially gas and electric. What do other folks do?—Po’ Boy

Dear PB: Going green has been discussed a lot down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop since we haven’t had much in the way of good gossip for a long time. For a while, when women would come in and say, “I’ve decided to go green!” I thought they meant hair color, and I lost a few customers as a result of my consequent actions. It turns out that “going green” ain’t a new concept. Remember what your grandparents said about saving everything and not wasting? Well, that’s what “going green” is. It has nothing to do with hair color.

Some of my customers have been coming up with ways to do it. For instance, many have been able to save gas money by using their mules as a main source of transportation, and have found out they can get more miles per mule than they can miles per gallon. As a result, several Rock Bottom businesses have had to put in a hitching rail to accommodate shoppers. The mules have also provided organic fertilizer for the town trees and flower pots and have thus done their part to help beautify Main Street.

Some folks with large families have both saved and recycled water by washing their kids in the same water. The best way to do this is to wash the cleanest kid first and the dirtiest one last. Then throw the water on your hollyhocks or tomato plants or whatever. Also, you can save water as well as money and laundry time by not wearing underwear. It ain’t like anybody sees it on a regular basis, so why not just give it up except for special occasions?

You can also save on bedding, laundry, and bed-making by having your kids sleep in sleeping bags. Now, if your kids like to watch TV, make them furnish the electricity. With some scrap metal and a little ingenuity, you can make some kid-size hamster wheels and hook them up to a generator. The kids run in the wheels and produce electricity. Another benefit is they will be so tired that they will sleep good at night. It will also teach them valuable lessons of life, like no matter how much you try, you ain’t gonna get very far if you just run in circles. If you have a couple of big dogs, you might get them to run the wheels, too.

If y’all readers have any other good ideas, sent them in to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, and we will spread the word. If y’all know any good gossip, we will spread that, too.

Dear Ida B. I been hearing about some trouble a Rock Bottom business has had with its new building. Can you tell me what’s going on?—Almost on Parole

Dear Still Incarcerated: I certainly can. Recently Delbert and Mervin Pitt expanded Pitt Brothers Garage (“When it comes to car care, they’re the Pitts!”) to add a couple more grease racks. They spared no expense to build a nice brick addition, which they figured would last through tornadoes and hail and other disasters. Plus they figured it would hold up well if one of their customers backed into it, which often happens. Turned out, though, that brick structures are not allowed in Rock Bottom’s historic district! In keeping with the singlewide decor theme that predominates the Rock Bottom skyline, town council (which meets at the Rock Bottom Bar & Grill) passed a rule that only aluminum siding is allowed on buildings within the town limits. Well, it would cost the Pitts a bundle to tear down that brick addition and redo it in aluminum siding. Even nailing aluminum siding over the bricks would be expensive. Luckily, Olive Pitt (Delbert’s wife) discovered several gallons of aluminum paint in the shed. After consultation and several beers with town council, Mayor Portius Peabody proposed that the Pitts be allowed to paint the bricks to look like aluminum. “It ain’t like anybody is gonna look real close,” he explained about the time everyone finished their third pitcher. So council decided that paint would make the garage look as bad as every other building in town and the vote was unanimous in favor of the Pitts. Plus, it was getting late and American Idol was about to come on and some of the council had bets riding on it and wanted to get home in time to watch.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Bargains, Art, and Mommy Books

2009-06-15T10:23:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared in the May 28, 2008, edition of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our annual summer “Tan Your Hide” special at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Our tanning tank is ready and waiting for you. Most folks find that a 10-minute dip into our special tanning solution is enough, but if you want to look extra bronze, we can hold you under for a few minutes longer at no extra charge. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Does Rock Bottom or Slick Water Lake have any good yard sales coming up? I just love to get bargains.—Big Bargain Hunter

Dear BBH: Rock Bottom residents rarely have yard sales. They are thrifty folk who tend to use everything up or wear it out so bad that it’s unusable before they get rid of it. They never get rid of stuff that has great sentimental value—and almost everything does, which is why you see so many cars on blocks in Rock Bottom yards or appliances on stoops. However, out at Slick Water lake, folks are always getting rid of their old stuff and getting new stuff. They don’t like to have yard sales, though, on account strangers park on their grass and sometimes ask to use the facilities. Our Lady of the Rip-Rap has got around those problems with its annual church “Yard Sail,” wherein all its members pile whatever they don’t want into their boats and sail from one dock to another, either trading off their stuff or selling it to whoever might be waiting on a dock. This is pretty much a win-win situation for everybody and there are bargains to be had if you’re on the right dock at the right time. Whatever don’t sell usually gets dumped in the middle of the lake, and no one is the wiser.

Dear Ida B. I been hearing something about that new art museum in Big Mall City. Seems like they are going to have something called E-phemeral Art, wherein somebody paints on a wall while other folks sit in chairs and watch. Then before long, somebody else comes in and paints over the same thing. My first question: why would anybody sit around and watch somebody paint. My second question: is it because that E-phemeral Art is something like E-ratic Art, wherein somebody paints stuff that might not be fit for public looking-at but folks will look at it anyway so they can tell others how shocked they was to see it?—Not Artsy

Dear Not: I can tell you ain’t from around here. In Rock Bottom, watching somebody else do something is about as much exercise as some folks get. Watching paint dry is pretty exciting for the average Rock Bottomite, but not as much as watching bread rise down at Rosie Bunn’s bakery or watching somebody rebuild a transmission down at the Pitt Brothers Garage (“When it comes to car care, they’re the Pitts!”). Watching the traffic light change colors is pretty exciting, too. My manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, often has a group of men come to watch her give manicures, especially on hot days when her halter-top is skimpier than usual. Folks used to try to watch me give hair-cuts until word got out about some incidents involving scissor pokes in eyes and curling iron burns on the noses. After that, hair-cut watchers moved across the street and watched through binoculars.

Now what I can’t understand is why them art museum folks have to get somebody to come in and repaint so often. It could be that they don’t use very good paint and it peels off. Or maybe it is some of that E-ratic art and they have to cover it up fast so kids don’t see it and get ideas. Or maybe the only artists they could get ain’t very good and nobody wants to look at what they pain more than once. I asked Art D. Coe, the proprietor of the Rock Bottom Museum of Art what he thought, and he says the next time the wall in the Elvis-on-Velvet room needs repainting, he will put in some benches and charge folks to watch.

Dear Ida B. I heard there is a book about a mommy getting plastic surgery to look better. A plastic surgeon wrote it to drum up some business. Have you thought about writing a book about a mommy going to a beauty shop?—Reader

Dear Reader: As a matter of fact, I have. Little girls are never too young to learn about looking good. I am at work right now on Mommy Gets a New Look and a Bucket of Bait, which takes place at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Mainly it is about no matter how good you think you look, there is always room for improvement with a sub-plot about how big hair is making a comeback and some tips on selecting the right bait for the job you expect it to do. My main message, though, is that coming down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop is a better alternative than surgery. It is usually less painful, doesn’t require that you hide until the scars heal, is generally reversible if you don’t like the particular look, and you get to hear the latest gossip, which is hard to do if you are anesthetized.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Burned Food, Mama's Day, Lazy Kids & Cheap Pets

2009-05-15T20:44:00.002-04:00

This column appeared in the May 14, 2008, issue of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our May Madness sale on selected crawdads that have got too feisty to keep in the bait tank. If you want some bait that will put up a fight, then our crawdads are what you need to put some excitement into your fishing. They are also handy to throw through the window of your ex’s pickup truck if he has been a little late with the alimony checks lately. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My current new wife keeps trying to tell me that the stuff she cooks is real trendy—blackened catfish, blackened red snapper, etc. I think it is just burned and she plain ol’ cain’t cook. Last night she fixed blackened corn bread, blackened taters, blackened cabbage, and blackened chicken-fried steak. The night before it was blackened spaghetti and meatballs. Do you think she might be trying to tell me something? —Not a Gor-may

Dear Knothead: I think she is telling you that she would like to eat out once in a while. I suggest you take her to a couple of them fancy eating places out at Slick Water Lake so she can see what trendy food is really like. I am wondering why you didn’t notice her cooking before you got hitched. Didn’t y’all indulge in any premarital home-cooking?

Dear Ida B. My sisters took Mama out for Mama’s Day, and all she can talk about is how good they were to her and how all I got her was a chintzy card. I want to make next Mama’s Day memorable for my mama while out-doing whatever my good-for-nothing sisters might do. Do you have any suggestions?—Daughter

Dear Gal: I recommend you bring your mama in down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop on the Saturday before Mama’s Day for our “Make Mama Special” makeover. We’ll do the best we can with what we have to work with, but we will also arrange for several strangers to compliment her throughout the next day on how good she looks, no matter if she looks good or not. You should also take her to the special “Honor Your Mama” service at Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit where all mamas will receive an extra glass of communion wine and a free Bingo card. After the service, there is a special luncheon buffet in the church basement where all mamas will be permitted to jump the line so they will get their food before it cools off or dries out (or both) and hasn’t been sneezed on much by all those suffering allergies. After lunch, you might take her fishing out on Slick Water Lake (Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop will have special gift bait boxes available for sale). If you contract with Captain Hook of Reel’Em In Fishing Tours, he can make sure that she catches a fish on her first try. What he does is have a diver go under the boat and attach a fish to the line that your mama casts. If she is the sort who don’t like to clean fish, for a slight extra charge Captain Hook can arrange for an already cleaned and deboned fish to be attached to her line. It might be possible to have a stretch limo to take her to and from the lake, but that depends on whether or not McCobbers Funeral Home will be using their hearse at the time. Usually they don’t get much advance notice, but if your mama doesn’t mind sharing the ride, McCobbers can still pick y’all up.

Dear Ida B. I might graduate from high school this year and I don’t have any job prospects lined up. Is there anything to do in Rock Bottom that pays good and don’t require much effort?—Takin It EZ

Dear Worthless: The answer to both your questions is no. I suggest you get on a bus and go as far as you can afford. Then get off the bus. The job situation will be better wherever it is you get off. Don’t come back. We have enough of your kind in Rock Bottom so as it is, and we’re always looking for ways to export a few.

Dear Ida B. My kid has been bugging me to get him a pet. I don’t want anything I have to feed and clean up after. I do enough of that for my husband and the kid. What do you suggest in the way of a low maintenance cheap pet?—Concerned Mom

Dear Mom: If your kid has been bugging you to get him a pet, you can’t go wrong with a crawdad. They don’t occupy much space, are cheap to feed, don’t pee all over your carpet, don’t require expensive shots or training, don’t chew up your new shoes, and don’t claw up your furniture. If your kid, gets tired of it, the crawdad becomes bait. Lucky for you, we are running a special on crawdads down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Hurry on down to get one while the supply lasts.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Cackles, Moos, Sweat, Pirates, and Nekkid Gardening

2009-04-26T14:49:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on April 30, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our May Day Hay Day special, wherein we will give you a discount on dying your hair the same color as hay, so if you are helping bale, and you forget to wear a hat, you won’t look as if your hair is covered with hay. It’ll blend right in. Now, lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My wife and I went to the big city to one of them fancy grocery stores on Old Codger’s Day, wherein those of us over a certain age get a 5% discount. Now my wife is a little over the hill and a little off the scale, if you know what I mean. Anyhow, when she went to one section of the store to get some eggs, all this cackling started over the loudspeakers like the store folks was making fun that she was an old hen (which I will be the first to admit that she is). Then she went to another counter to get some milk and all this mooing come over the loudspeakers like the store folks thought she was an old cow (which I will be the first to admit that she is). What I want to know, Ida B, is how they do that. If all they got to do is press a button, how do I get a job like that? And how do I get my wife to stop being mad at me for laughing?—Mystified

Dear Mystified: Some things are best left a mystery, like why that store wants to insult porky women of a certain age and why you want a job doing that. However, to get your wife to stop being mad, I suggest you present her with a gift certificate for a complete makeover at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Even if she stays mad at you, at least she will look prettier.

Dear Ida B. My husband Bubba got a job mowing yards over at Slick Water Lake where folks will pay for things like that. He said that his regular job down at the factory don’t pay enough. Anyhow, he is gone two or three evenings a week, and he always comes home hot and sweaty and tired. Sometimes he goes right to bed without saying a word. The last month or two, I have noticed that he don’t have grass on his clothes, his lawn mower is as clean as when he left with it, and he don’t seem to be using any gas in it. In fact, the last two times, it has been raining real hard when he was supposed to be mowing. Last night he came home with lipstick on his collar, which does not usually happen when doing lawn-work. Ida B., do I have a right to be suspicious? If so, what ought I to do?—At Home Wife

Dear Homey: Yes, you have the right to be suspicious. All wives do. I suggest that you tell him that you’ve decided to help with his lawn work. If you do, odds are good that he’ll inform you that he just lost the job. If he doesn’t do that, he might plan to sneak off without you, so make sure you’re waiting in his truck at least an hour before his regular departure time. If he takes off before you can get in the truck, then follow him. Be sure to take a camera because odds are good you will discover some Kodak moments, the pictures of which will help you in the dee-vorce settlement.

Dear Ida B. My husband has gone middle-age crazy, except he’s too old for that. Anyhow, now that he’s retired, he has been thinking up things that he always wanted to do. Recently, he decided that he wanted to be a pirate, so he painted his bass boat black and put a skull and crossbones flag on it and convinced some of his buddies to join him. Well, they have been cruising Slick Water Lake and boarding boats that some of them rich yankees have and robbing them. He says they can afford it and if they report him, who is gonna believe their boat was attacked by pirates in the middle of Slick Water Lake. Anyhow, what should I do with the money he has been bringing home and stuffing under the mattress?—Captain Hook’s Wife

Dear Hooker: You should take the money and spend it down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. If you let it accumulate, the next thing you know, he will spend it on a parrot which you will end up cleaning up after. Plus you will have to listen to the thing screech and holler if it doesn’t go on the boat with him.

Dear Ida B. I just found out that May 3 is “Garden Naked Day.” Does anybody celebrate it in Rock Bottom and if so, where? And are they good-lookin’ gals?—Ben Leerin

Dear Leery Old Coot: There are good reasons why folks don’t garden nekkid in Rock Bottom. Three of them are ticks, chiggers, and sunburn. A full-body sunburn is not fun on account there is no way to sit so you are comfortable. Add in some itchy, crawly critters and the misery increases. The good-lookin’ gals will either be out on Slick Water Lake or else they’ll be down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop so they’ll qualify to be called good-lookin’. They won’t be gardening.

Well, that’s it for another go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Problem Toys, Saggy Parts, & Spring Festivities

2009-03-28T18:58:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on April 16. 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are running our “Bucket of Bait, Bucket of Beauty” special wherein we will give you a 10% discount on all the beauty products and bait you can stuff into a bucket. We provide the bucket; please do not bring your own. We have had problems in the past with folks bringing in their own big buckets. (Note: the scoop pan of a front-end loader is not a bucket, no matter how many folks call it one.) Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I am having trouble getting my kids to pick up their toys. I have told my kids “It makes Mommy sad when you don’t pick up their toys and I have to pick them up myself,” but the kids just say, “So?” and go on leaving their toys out. What’s a tired mother to do?—Sadder

Dear Sadder But Soon To Be Wiser: Tell them kids that you are only going to pick up the toys one more time. Then it will be their problem. When they leave the toys out, pick them up, put them in a box and tote that box to Goodwill. When the kids pitch a fit about their missing toys, you say, “So? I told you it was going to be your problem.” After you make the donation to Goodwill, stop in at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Ain’t nothing cures sadness like a new hair-do.

Dear Ida B. I am thinking of getting a face lift, a tummy tuck, and maybe some other cosmetic improvements to tighten up my saggy parts. What do you think?—Needs Some Uplift

Dear Needy: I think you need to visit Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, which is a whole lot cheaper than all that surgery and usually don’t hurt near as much. Plus, if you don’t like the result, it won’t take long for your hair to grow out and you can start over. With the surgery, though, once you get yourself tightened up all over, you have to worry about sagging again, so you can’t enjoy it. And you can only get things tightened up so much until you run out of skin. What I recommend is a complete makeover at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. What most folks notice anyhow is your hair. If you got a lot of wrinkles, we can style your bangs to cover them. If you got a saggy neck, we can style your hair around it. Up at the Rock Bottom House of Polyester and Industrial Strength Undergarments, you can get one of them “boost-ee-ays,” which pushes up all your sags and makes it look like you got cleavage you never imagined you had. Instead of waiting weeks for all the cosmetic surgery to take effect and the bruises to heal, with the right hair-do and the right foundation garment, you can be good to go in a few hours.

Dear Ida B. Now that spring is here, will there be any festivities in Rock Bottom? I just love to get involved in the culture of a region.—Tourist

Dear You-Obviously-Ain’t-From-Around-Here: The town of Rock Bottom does not have festivals. We ain’t got enough parking places for residents, much less for tourists who just want to be entertained for free and not spend money at all the business establishments. Plus everybody is too busy to put on a festival, which often requires some money up-front that nobody has much of to begin with. However, if it’s involvement you want, a couple of the local agrarian professionals are having a Spring Fling. It seems the manure spreader they share has broke down, and they need to get certain bovine organic matter onto their fields or else they will have to spend money on fertilizer. For a small admission charge, you are welcome to join fellow tourists in the manure-flinging contest. Prizes will be given for those who fling the farthest distance, those who fling the most, and those who fling with the best style. To show our support for those who participate in the Fling, we are offering a manicure special down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. We guarantee to remove all traces of the manure from under your fingernails or at least disguise it with enough coats of nail polish so that nobody notices. There was some talk about voting on a “Miss Manure Fling Festival,” but for some reason, nobody entered. This is a shame, mainly because I could have made some money on pageant hair-dos.

Most of the festivals around here are at Slick Water Lake, where numerous committees have formed to think up new festivals to have. The latest one is the Lower Depths Art Festival, wherein participants are encouraged to remove the biggest piece of debris they can find from the lake, mount it on a pedestal (or frame it, if that is possible), give it some classy name, and enter it as a piece of sculpture in an art festival devoted to lake art. The sculptures will then be sold to the highest bidders, which will raise some money as well as cleaning up the lake. Plus they’ll serve lots of wine. After you have a couple of drinks, you will be able to appreciate the art better. At least that has been my experience.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Porking Down, Designer Dawgs, & Tornado Gifts

2009-03-22T22:05:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on April 2, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are running our “April Fool’s Day Special,” so if you are tired of looking foolish, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and get yourself fixed up to look decent. We’ll do the best we can. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I have porked up considerable this winter, what with my desk job and all. Since I am always either behind a desk or behind a counter or else I hide my extra pounds under my winter coat, nobody has noticed except my husband who has learned to keep his mouth shut if he wants to live happily. My vacation is coming up soon, and I want to go to someplace where I can enjoy fresh air and exercise, but I can’t afford a spa and I don’t want a lot of folks to see the way I look now until I get my girlish figure back. Do you have any ideas?—ButterBall

Dear BB: You are in luck, as well as all the other gals in your same situation. In fact, you have a couple of alternatives. Haywood “Hay” Fields, one of the local agrarian professionals, is always on the outlook to make a few extra bucks, especially since he needs to replace his mule that just died. While he was in Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop the other day to get his manicure from Honey Sue Sweetwater, he happened to see a magazine open to an article about how city folks will pay big money to go on “farm vacations” and participate in all farm work just like they are members of the family, only they don’t complain near as much. Anyhow, he figured he could offer a farm vacation a lot cheaper than those professional farm places (plus no one around here would pay a lot for the experience), so he is opening his farm this spring for folks who want the ultimate farm experience. He just asks that you pay a modest fee for room, board, and any damages you might cause.
Here is part of the schedule he has worked out and printed up in his brochure:

5:30 AM: A Country-Style Breakfast, consisting of bacon and eggs (both fried in hog grease), biscuits, and coffee. If you don’t like that, it is too bad. No substitutions allowed.
6:00 AM: Country Living Seminar: A collection of tips to keep you from being kicked, bit, pecked, or trampled while you enjoy your fresh air and exercise.
6:15 AM: Milking the cows. Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of it. This udderly charming chore involves coordination, stretching, and flexibility. Your hands get a good workout.
6:45 AM: Weight lifting: You carry the cans of milk to the creamery.
7:00 AM: More weight lifting: You slop hogs and fork down hay from the loft.
7:20: Speed and agility training: You feed the chickens and keep out of reach of a particularly mean and fast rooster.
7:25: Coordination training: You collect eggs while chickens are eating and rooster is hopefully distracted.
7:40: Advanced strength and agility training: You will be hitched to a plow which you will pull until all 40 acres are done.
Noon: Dinner (It ain’t called “lunch” in rural America)

And so on. Anyhow, you will no doubt lose plenty of weight and get toned up, and Haywood Fields will make a little money and get his farmwork done, so this is a win-win situation for all concerned. On the off chance that you don’t lose as much weight as you want, come on in to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for our “Big Hair” special. We have learned that under a head of big hair, your body will look smaller by comparison. Or at least folks will be looking at your hair and not your body.

Dear Ida B. I seen in the paper that mixed breed dawgs are bringing in piles of money, if you call them “designer dogs” instead of mutts. You would not believe how much folks will give for labradoodles, goldendoodles, pekeapoos, and I don’t know what all. Now I have got a dog that is half-pit bull and half spitz, so I figure she is a spitz-pits or maybe a pit-spitz and is now worth a durn sight more than the $5 I give for her. If I breed her to my neighbor’s shizu, what ought I to call the puppies and how much ought I to ask for them? Also, I have noticed the smaller the dawg, the more it costs, so if somebody don’t buy a dawg at all, how much should they pay?—Doggedly Designing

Dear DD: Some of my customers down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop
discussed this at length (it was a slow day for gossip) and concluded that you should call them “free” because that particular combination of breeds ain’t what everyone wants. I think that answers the second part of your question, too.

Dear Ida B. A recent tornado lifted up my singlewide and took it I don’t know where. However, the same tornado plunked down a doublewide right near where my former singlewide was. Despite the rips in the Elvis-on-Velvet paintings and the crack in the big screen TV, it’s a lot nicer than what I had. Can I keep it?—Can’t Believe My Luck

Dear Lucky: That depends on a lot of variables. Do you know who the original owner was and is he likely to come after you? If the original owner has already received a hefty settlement from his insurance company, he’d probably be glad to let you keep it. (The original owner wasn’t still in the doublewide, was he?) The trouble is, in acts of Providence like this, it’s hard to make a judgment call without knowing all the facts. Good luck.

That’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Rip-Rap Religion, Zucchini, & Elvis in Kudzu

2009-03-12T10:18:00.004-04:00

This column originally appeared in the March 18, 2008, Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where spring is about to happen after a couple of false starts this winter, so we are running our “Easter Chick” special. If you’re a chick who wants to look extra special for Easter, some on down and we’ll fix you up. Remember that on Easter, you will be seen at church by lots of folks who only come once or twice a year so they likely don’t see you all that often. If you don’t want them to have the wrong impression about how you generally look, you’d better take advantage of our special. Everyone else is, so you’ll look bad by comparison if you don’t. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. We are about to return from Florida to our Slick Water Lake condo in time for Easter and look forward to attending services at Our Lady of the Rip-Rap. We have heard that some changes have been made at Our Lady. Can you tell us what they are?—Wants to Know

Dear Wanting: Father Rocky Shore was just in Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop the other day to get his moustache trimmed, and he is proud to announce the upgrades that the church decor committee has made to the confessionals. It seems that some folks were worried that what they confessed might be overheard and possibly recorded by others, so Our Lady of the Rip-Rap now features state of the art touch screen confessionals with stadium seating that features cup-holders for your communion wine. All you got to do is go in, lean back and study the screen in front of you until you see some sins or transgressions you might have committed. Then just touch the screen by each sin you have committed since the last time you confessed and your confession goes straight to Father Rocky Shore’s computer. He will text message back your penance or absolution or whatever. He says he hopes that you will not be too distracted by the ads that appear at the top of the screen, but the church gets a good deal for running them. Also, it is not necessary to touch the screen more than once for each sin. Even if you have committed some several times, just touch once no matter how proud you are of them. Otherwise it jams up the machine. Before long, the committee hopes to have all the confessionals wi-fi complaint, so you can surf the net while you try to remember what sins you committed.

Father Shore also reports that communion has picked up considerably now that parishioners are offered a choice between domestic and imported communion wine.
If you have been gone awhile, you do need to know that Our Lady of the Rip-Rap now offers reserved seating, so if you go in and see a pew that has a plaque with somebody’s name on it, that means it has already been reserved for the season. I suggest you call the Rip-Rap ticket office and make your reservations now. Otherwise, the ticket scalpers in the parking lot will charge you a lot more than you probably want to pay.

Finally, the service planning committee unanimously voted that this year’s Easter sunrise service will be held at 10:00 a.m. instead of the actual sunrise because nobody wanted to get up that early.

Dear Ida B. This morning, I got a call from my wife while she was shopping at the Rock Bottom All-Mart. She said they had a sale on zucchinis and she was thinking about getting one on account she had never tried one before. She asked me what I thought. Well, naturally, I said “Do whatever you want, honey,” knowing that she’d do it anyway and there weren’t no call to give her something else to fuss about. I have seen lots of pictures of young gals in those zucchini things in the swimsuit issue of a magazine down at the barber shop, and I sure do admire how they look. But the problem is that my wife ain’t no spring chicken anymore, and come summer when she puts that zucchini on, a lot of her is gonna be falling out of it. When we go to the beach for our vacation, I’m worried that a wave might knock it off. What do I do when she puts it on to model for me? I just know she’s gonna ask me if it makes her look fat, and I can only lie so much.—Worried

Dear Worried: As soon as we got your e-mail down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait Shop, we commenced to laughing. Then we discussed the problem. Then we laughed some more. All I can say is that you don’t really have a problem. Well, you do have problems—but not the one you asked about.

Dear Ida B. I live out in Kudzu Canyon so I am surrounded by the stuff. I got to studying how the kudzu sometimes looks like people and stuff. Just the other day, I swear I seen Elvis in the kudzu with his guitar and everything. Right next to him was Dolly Parton and Abraham Lincoln and a grizzly bear. I am thinking about buying up all the land around here with kudzu on it and opening the first kudzu museum. What do you think?—Andre P. Newer

Dear Stupid: I have to admit the idea kinda grows on you, but you got to consider that kudzu grows over at least half the county—and maybe more by the time you read this. Who is gonna pay for what they can see for free every time they look out their window? You might see Elvis in the kudzu now, but by tomorrow morning, he ain’t gonna look like himself. The problem with kudzu is that it don’t stay still long enough for you to admire it for what you think it looks like. If you got money to spend, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and invest in a bucket of bait.

That’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free, except when it's in my book.

Family Confusion, Flying Outhouses, & Saving Time

2009-03-01T21:24:00.003-05:00

The following column appeared in the March 4, 2008, edition of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are running our “Madder Than a March Hair” special because high winds this month can play havoc with your hair. We have ordered an extra truckload of our heavy-duty hairspray to keep your hairdo in place no matter how high the wind. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My husband run off with another woman and no sooner than we got dee-vorced, he married her. Before long, I noticed how good-looking her brother was, and since he was dee-vorced, one thing led to another and we got married, thus making my ex, my brother-in-law and my son, my nephew. Well, my son got interested in my current husband’s daughter, so he ended up married to his step-sister, which might make him his own brother-in-law as well as his own cousin. Then my daughter, who is now my niece by marriage, has always been attracted to older men, so she married the ex-husband of her daddy’s current wife, who happens to be my third cousin twice removed. My question is, how do we handle family reunions?—Confused

Dear Confused: You handle them very carefully.

Dear Ida B. I know that March winds can be rough on hairdos, but it don’t do some buildings no good either. What is the proper etiquette if you happen to be walking by an outhouse which the wind blows away with somebody in it? Do you pretend you didn’t see anything, or what?—More Confused

Dear MC: This is a touchy situation. Best thing is to pretend not to notice unless the occupant is hollering for help. Of course, if the outhouse is airborne, there ain’t a lot of ways you can help anyhow, except maybe dial 911 and report a UFO (Unidentified Flying Outhouse). Also, don’t stand where you think it will come down. Being pinned down by an occupied outhouse can be a sticky—as well as stinky—situation, and it won’t do your hairdo any good. Best thing if this happens to you is to come straight to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for repairs which the owner of the outhouse really ought to have to pay for.

Dear Ida B. I hear tell that Daylight Saving Time starts up in a week or so, and I am wondering how we are expected to save it. It ain’t like you can put time in the bank and have it draw interest. Also, what are we saving it for? It ain’t a lot you can do with it, because there are still only 24 hours in a day, whether we save any or not. Or are we saving it FROM something? Is time gonna go extinct? This whole mess confuses me, Ida B. Why can’t folks what don’t like the way daylight is distributed throughout the day just sleep later or get up earlier or something? Plus, it ain’t like you can reset a rooster. He’s gonna crow when the sun comes up regardless of what the clock says. I am also confused by this time share stuff. I bought a time share at one of them fancy Slick Water Lake condos and I no sooner moved in than some other family moved in, too. Now I didn’t mind sharing their food and beer, which they certainly brung enough of, but I hate sharing a bed with them on account they snore louder than I do. —Can’t make Heads or Tails of Nothing

Dear Nothing: You ask way too many questions and I am doing several perms today down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, so I don’t have much free time to answer them all. I suggest you throw away your clocks, watches, and other time-keeping devices and rely on your rooster. That way, you won’t think about your time problem so much. If you bring the rooster into the condo, you might get rid of the other time-sharers, especially if you let him perch on the head of the bed. However, that will cut off your supply of shared food. After discussing your letter with my customers down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop (which was difficult with all the driers we got running today), we have decided you got too much time on your hands and you ought to spend it fishing. Lucky for you we are running our spring red worm special this week, so come on down and pick some up. Just don’t bring the rooster. I don’t need him eating up all my stock before you have paid for it.

Dear Ida B. Even though I am sorta married (Beulie Sue and me has been having problems but she ain’t dee-vorced me yet), I was at a bar the other night and met this real good looking woman. After maybe bragging to her how much I was worth and all (I only added two digits to my income), she invited me to come to her place. Well, after she cooked me a gor-may meal and we watched her big screen TV, we got to know each other better, if you get my drift. Well, to make a long story short, I fell asleep. Now Ida B., like most red-blooded American males, I sleep with my mouth open. Whilst I was doing so, her cat got my tongue. Well, the tip of it. I looked and never did find it. I have suffered a lot of anguish, especially at the bar where the guys make fun of how I talk. Should I sue this woman for my missing tongue tip and the mental suffering it has caused.—Tongue-Tied

Dear TT: If you had kept your mouth shut in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. I’m pretty sure the answer about what to do is right on the tip of your tongue—Oh, I guess it can’t be on what ain’t there, can it?

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free (but not if you buy it in book form).

Cheap Candy, Satellite Spies, & Facebook Mama

2009-02-20T20:10:00.003-05:00

This post originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on February 20, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where my manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, has been swamped with potential customers wanting to partake of her wedding consultant business. She wants me to point out that her time is valuable and she can’t be giving free advice unless you are getting your nails done. When the last coat of polish dries, your consultation time is up unless you are willing to pay extra. She also finds that she is having to repeat herself a lot, so she has compiled a list of her top hints. Here are two of the most popular:

If the wedding involves mud-wrestling, white or pastel colors ain’t a good choice for the bride’s dress (and/or coveralls) or those of her bridesmaids (unless she doesn’t like them).
A flowing train is likely to either get tangled in the wheels or be grabbed onto by dogs chasing you if you’re riding on the back of your new hubby’s ATV or tractor when you leave the reception. Also, while it looks more elegant to ride “side-saddle,” you are more apt to slip off, so hike up your dress and ride astride. It ain’t like most of your guests ain’t seen bare legs before. When it comes down to elegance or safety, go with safety.

Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My boyfriend didn’t get me any good stuff for Valentine’s Day—just a box of candy that had been marked down (and which he ate most of), a bouquet of flowers that I know for a fact he took off a grave at Rock Bottom Cemetery, and some balloons that had “Happy Fortieth Birthday” printed on them. Do you think he is trying to tell me something?—Lovelorn

Dear Loveworn: Yes. He is trying to tell you that he is a cheapskate. If I were you, I’d believe him. I suggest you to come right down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, where we will give you a classy new look guaranteed to attract a classier type of guy. Of course, any guy will be classier than the one you got now, which I suggest you dump as quickly as possible. Also, we want to hear all the details about how you dumped him. The gossip here lately is going through a dry spell and your contribution will help.

Dear Ida B. I heard there is a bunch of satty-lights circling the earth and taking pictures of I don’t know what all. They say you can get on a computer and look up particular neighborhoods and zoom right in. Now, Ida B., I don’t have one of them computers on account I don’t trust new-fangled stuff and a CB radio is all the communication device I need (especially since I don’t have to run up the light bill to use it and the antenna really spiffs up my truck), but my wife has been acting kinda odd (OK, mad as a wet hen) lately and I was wondering if she might have said something the last time she got her hair done. Do you reckon she might have got onto a computer and saw something that she thinks I might have done and it certainly might look like I done but I can explain if she says she saw it?—Rube

Dear Boob: Do you mean the computer we have down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop where you wife comes every Wednesday morning for her shampoo and set so she’ll look good for prayer meeting that night? If so, yes, it is possible that she might have seen something, might have remarked about what she saw, might have received sympathy and advice from those of us down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, and—as soon as her hair was dry—might have high-tailed it over to the office of my dee-vorce lawyer, Maycomb Philmore Payne, to have a little discussion about your activities. Everybody down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop is anxious to hear what kind of a good explanation you’ll come up with, and we can’t wait for next Wednesday when she comes back in to tell us. The consensus down here is that you ain’t got a prayer.

Dear Ida B. When my youngest boy went off to college, I wanted to keep up with what he was doing, but I didn’t want him to know that I was snooping. Anyhow, I got me a Facebook page where I pretended to be a hot young thing and he “friended” me and we got to chatting on a regular basis as if I was a hot coed. That’s how come I know about how much he drinks, what parties he goes to, what classes she skips, and how he’s getting Ds instead of the As and Bs he told us he was getting, and all. The problem is that he wants to meet me and for us to start dating. What should I do?—Old enough to be his mother because I am!

Dear Oldie: Well, most of my customers have discussed this at length and say you might tell him what he doesn’t want to hear—namely that you are a 45-year-old guy. That ought to discourage him. However, my manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, says if you don’t want to do that, she will be glad to take over your Facebook Page and even go out with him if he is good-looking and y’all give him a generous allowance. Honey Sue is real thoughtful that way. She is also real experienced at “friending” guys, though she prefers face to face rather than by the book.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. If you'd like to pay for it, however, you might buy Peevish Advice or More Peevish Advice.

***

Pulling Plugs, Amen Bingo, TV, & Sow Ears

2009-01-27T19:41:00.002-05:00

This post originally appeared on February 6, 2008, in the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where my manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, wants to announce that she has become a wedding planner as well as a manicurist. The two careers actually complement each other on account she can talk about your wedding plans while she paints your nails. She is real good at multi-tasking like that. Given the success of a certain show on the CMT channel, a lot of Rock Bottom couples who were just gonna go out and get hitched as cheaply as possible are now trying to out-do each other when it comes to the actual wedding. Some are even thinking in terms of taping the ceremony and selling the tapes on eBay. Anyhow, if there is money to be made, Honey Sue Sweetwater is there for you. If you’re thinking about getting hitched, whether as a repeater or as a first-timer, come talk to Honey Sue. If you’re currently a first-timer who wants to be a repeater (only with a different spouse), my dee-vorce lawyer, Maycomb Philmore Payne, is running a special this week and will be glad to consult with you after you pay his retainer which you should do in unmarked bills in a plain envelope. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My kids got all these fancy electronical stuff for Christmas and now they’re always plugged in to something. They can’t even hear me nag them while they’re involved with their earphones, cellphones, some kind of game playing thing-a-mabob, and their laptops. What should I do to get their attention?—Tuned-out Mama

Dear Ma: How about pulling a few plugs? That’ll get their attention real quick. On the other hand, this might not be a good idea. It might give them ideas in a couple of decades when you’re on life support. Most of the mamas down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop can’t figure why would you want your teenagers’ attention anyhow? Usually they only pay attention to you if they want money or want to complain about something. If they’re quiet and you know where they are, count your blessings.

Dear Ida B. What’s up with the Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit? I hear attendance is way up?—Can’t Believe It

Dear Unbeliever: Yep, it’s true. Thanks to a recent innovation the place has been packed the last couple of Sundays and nobody is sleeping through the Reverend Al E. Looyah’s sermons like they used to. Since the Rev. Al instituted what he likes to call “Amen Bingo,” both attendance and attentiveness have perked up substantially. How it works it this: attendees are sold Bingo cards when they enter. During the sermon, Rev. Al E. will periodically pause mid-sentence to call out a Bingo number which his wife Glorie-Hallie draws from the baptismal font and discretely hands him. When somebody wins, they have to call out “Amen!” instead of “Bingo!” for it to count, and then a new game starts. The winners have to wait until the service is over before they go to the special “Amen Corner” to collect their winnings. This is a win-win situation for everybody. The church makes some extra money from the sale of Bingo cards, the place is packed, everybody stays awake, and a few folks get their prayers answered right on the spot.

Dear Ida B. I hear tell that the TV I finally paid off last year ain’t gonna work once them TV stations start sending out them Digi-Tell signals instead of the Annie-Log signals that they now send out. Is this some wild rumor or what? If I get one of them new TVs, what’s to stop the TV folks from thinking up another way of sending out signals? Ida B, me and my wife and dozen or so kids (hers, mine, and ours—although I think a few neighbor kids sneaked in and might be passing theirselves off as ours) and our assorted in-laws are simple folk who cain’t afford to be shelling out money every time we feel the need to be entertained. Do you have any suggestions to help us out?—Stressed

Dear Stressed: With so many folks at your home, I don’t see how you can watch TV much anyhow, what with all the noise, fighting kids, in-laws, etc., that you are bound to have around. I suggest you sell the TV to one of the neighbors before they realize that it will soon be out-dated. If there is a show you really want to watch, it will be easier to go down to the Rock Bottom Appliance Emporium and watch one of their demos. If they ask you to leave, you just say that you haven’t made up your mind yet and move over to the next TV.

Dear Ida B. Is that old saying true that you can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear? If you can, would this be a good science fair project?—Curious & Desperate

Dear C&D: Yep, it’s true. Unless you can somehow get a passel of silkworms to infest a sow’s ear and cover it with silk, you had better give up on this idea as a science fair project. Now if you needed a home-ec project, you might be able to make the sow’s ear into a one-of-a-kind designer pigskin purse, but make sure the ear is not still attached to the sow when you try this. For all y’all other kids that haven’t thought up your science fair projects yet, Alma Motter, the principal of Rock Bottom High School, was just in to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for her twice-weekly root touch-up, and she said that no longer can kids have projects based on any home-brew recipes nor can they have projects based on the effects of loud music on crop growth. She is tired of being raided for one and having to listen to the other.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Cheese Cutting, Groundhogs, & Wedding Do-Overs

2009-01-20T15:33:00.003-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on January 23, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are running our annual “Hat Hair Repair” special for all y’all who have had trouble maintaining your up-do under winter weather conditions. You would be surprised at what we can do with industrial strength hairspray and a little super glue. All we ask is that you don’t put your hat back on until everything has dried. Otherwise, you might be making a permanent commitment to that hat. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Several months ago, you said that committees had formed at Our Lady of the Rip-Rap to determine what cheese would be served on the communion wafers to properly accent the communion wine. Did you ever hear if they made a decision?—Cheese Whiz

Dear Whizzy: Last I heard from Father Rocky Shore was that committees are still working on this. So far, the only cheese they’ve flat out rejected is limburger. Until a final cheesy decision is made, several choices are being offered, based on what’s on special on Saturday at Rock Bottom Shoppette. Last Sunday, for example, they had brie, cheddar, havarti, and edam. The week before that they had a bunch of bottles of that squeeze cheese, but most folks thought that wasn’t classy enough, especially since you had to squeeze the bottle yourself and some folks got a little greedy.

Also, a faction has arisen regarding spreadable cheese versus sliceable cheese. One group argues that folks can spread the spreadable cheese themselves pretty quick, whereas cutting the cheese takes time and some cut it too big unless there’s one designated cheese-cutter, which places an undue burden on that person. The other group argues that those spreading their own cheese might also take advantage and take too big a helping, and having a designated spreader would also be an undue burden.

Anyhow, until things are worked out, they are going to try to offer four choices each communion (two spreadable, two sliceable, depending on what’s on special), but you are only allowed to commune once so you got to decide in advance which cheese you want on your wafer. Father Shore says the security cameras will be recording those who go through more than one line, and he will expect to see the transgressors at confession.

Dear Ida B. Now that Christmas and New Years are over, what is the next big holiday in Rock Bottom?—Needs to Celebrate Something

Dear Needy: You must be new in town or you would know that Ground Hog Day is a special holiday here in Rock Bottom. I generally run a “Come Out of Hiding and Get Fixed Up” special here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for all the folks who didn’t get out all winter and it shows. There are always plenty of festivities, including a tractor-pull and Bingo tournament.

Also, there is usually a contest to guess the time the groundhog comes out, so you might want to buy your ticket early before all the best times are taken. One year, they had a beauty pageant at the groundhog hole, but the bathing suit competition didn’t work too good, what will the sub-freezing temperatures and all. This year, Rock Bottom Poet Laureate Anna Motter Peyah will open the ceremonies with the epic poem she composed to celebrate the groundhog’s achievements, so most folks plan on being late to this year’s ceremony.

If the groundhog don’t show up, Mayor Portius Peabody always has a back-up rodent in the back of his pick-up, so the show will go on. He says for y’all not to bring any dawgs with you no matter how much they want to attend on account it don’t look good if some critter attacks the groundhog (or its substitute) before it gets a good look at its shadow or lack thereof.

Dear Ida B. Flossie-Mae and me just watched that new show, “My Big Redneck Wedding” down at Rock Bottom Appliance Emporium. Somehow our electric got cut off again, but we figured we needed a night out on the town so that’s how we come to see it. We always wanted a big wedding to make all my in-laws jealous and to maybe make a little money while we’re at it, so we really want to get on that show. Do you know if them TV people take folks that might already be married but ain’t sure?

Here’s the situation: Me and Flossie-Mae had us an outdoor wedding last November, but I think we didn’t get totally nuptualized. There is a real possibility that I didn’t say “I do,” on account a trophy buck came into my sights about that time—or if I did say it, the blast from my 30.06 drowned out what I said. Also, the preacher fell out of his deer stand right before he finished the ceremony, so nobody heard any man-and-wife pronouncement, just the scream and the thud. Plus, everybody had such a good time at the reception that nobody remembers much about it. Therefore, I think we qualify for a wedding do-over.

Anyhow, Ida B, the TV people say that the bride must be at least 18, and Flossie-Mae is durn close. We got all the things they are looking for and more—dawgs, hawgs, ATVs, guns, home-made liquid refreshment (and I ain’t talking lemonade, if you get my drift), relatives what don’t get along real good with each other, several ex-wives, suitable locations for mud-wrassling, etc. I’m thinking instead of a fall wedding, we could have it in the summer so the bridesmaids can wear Daisy Duke outfits instead of coveralls. What do you think?—Do-Over Guy

Dear Done-It: While I would love to have the hair business to get y’all’s wedding party into shape (The “Daisy Duke” look is one of our hairstyle specialties down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop), plus I could provide some real good bait-based bridesmaids’ gifts, the bad news is that y’all are considered man and wife in the eyes of Rock Bottom whether or not all the wedding technicalities took place. Also, the TV people have already taped all the shows they need. The best I can suggest is that one anniversary y’all might recreate the wedding of your dreams and hope it attracts media attention. If you do, remember that all of us down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop will do what we can to make y’all look good for the occasion.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Resolutions, Running Around, & Body Art

2009-01-03T15:48:00.001-05:00

This was originally published on January 9, 2008.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are having our annual New Year’s sale on old bait and old hair products. You can save a bundle on whatever we got that is about to expire or that won’t survive another freezing and thawing if the power goes off again. Also, we are running our regular “New Year, New You, New Start” special on complete make-overs, wherein you won’t even know yourself by the time we get done with you. Neither will most of your friends or relatives, so it gives y’all a good chance to upgrade to a higher class of acquaintances or avoid all those pesky in-laws what was giving you grief if that is what you want to do. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I always have trouble keeping my New Year’s resolutions. Do you have any ideas how I can keep them?—Temptation

Dear Tempted: If you resolve to get your hair done weekly at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop, we will call to remind you several times of your appointment. That should be an easy resolution to keep. Otherwise, you have two options: You should just resolve to do things that you want to do anyhow, or you should resolve not to make any resolutions.

Dear Ida B. I suspected my current wife Lu-Rhetta June was running around on me, and when I heard from a mostly reliable source (her previous husband) that she was seeing some man out at Slick Water Lake, I got in my boat and went to check things out. Well, Ida B, after I’d found a place in a little cove to watch from, I could see pretty plain through them big winders what they was doing. To start off, they was drinking beer out of a glass, which seems like a big waste on account the bottles are so convenient. I figgered that man she was with weren’t up to no good, because he poured the beer for her hisself rather than making her serve him. After they’d had a few beers, they commenced to dancing, and they danced closer and closer. It was hard to tell who was which, they was so close-dancing. Then I saw something that I just couldn’t believe! It surprised me so much I like have swallered my chaw right in mid-chew! All around my boat were the biggest durn stripers I ever seen! Musta been fifteen or twenty—all trophy size! Well, my chaw kindly stuck in my throat, so I commenced to coughing. That caused the fish to swim away and the man to close the blinds. What I need to know, Ida B, is what is the best bait to use for fish that big? I plan to take my rod and a whole bucket of bait the next time I suspect Lu-Rhetta June of running around. I can always get another wife, but it’s not often I get a chance to catch a really big fish.—Anxious

Dear Anxious: You are in luck! Down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, we are currently running our clearance special on our winter stock, so we can give you a big bucket of all our most popular bait. We will give you enough red worms, night crawlers, crawdads, and I don’t know what all, that will meet all your bait needs for any circumstance. No matter how picky them Slick Water stripers might be, there will surely be something in the bucket that will appeal to them. As for Lu-Rhetta June, you might tell her to come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for a new look to make her more appealing, too.

Dear Ida B. My boy Bubba, Jr. wants to get hisself tattooed. I have told him that this is a mistake and he will regret it, but he says all the other over-age kids in 7th grade have body art and he feels left out. He wants to be a trend-setter as well as a crowd follower. What should I do?—Concerned Mama

Dear Ma: Sometimes you gotta let kids make one mistake so they don’t make a lot more. It helps if you can control the mistake to make it more of a learning experience. If he wants to follow the trend of body art while at the same time also setting a trend, he will be in an awkward position. Therefore, what I recommend you do is take him down to Rock Bottom Livestock Supply and Body Art Emporium and have him get their “branding” special. This particular procedure is much faster and cheaper than a tattoo. Granted they don’t have a lot of designs to choose from, but they use genuine antique branding irons, it is quick—and mostly germ-free because of the high heat required, and I can pretty much guarantee you that your boy won’t want to go through the process ever again. The price will be based on how many employees are required to hold him down during the procedure, but it will still be cheaper than a tattoo.

That’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Regifting, Fake Trees, Odds, & Decor

2008-12-28T20:25:00.002-05:00

This column was originally published on Dec. 26, 2007.

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are trying to recuperate from all that Christmas shopping and decorating and consumption of Christmas spirits, so we are running our “Ring in the New Year” piercing special, wherein we will insert a ring most places you might want to put one, although there are a few places we won’t go. We do have standards here. Also, we are running our “New Year’s Hair Resolution Surprise” special wherein we will give your hair a new color from an unmarked package of dye. We got a real good deal on some unidentified colors, and we will pass on our savings to y’all. You just might be surprised at how good you’ll look, or at least you’ll be surprised somehow. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. This Christmas I got a lot of nice presents that I can’t use and I’m too embarrassed to ask the givers where they bought them or if I can have the receipts to return them. What should I do?—Overly Gifted

Dear Over-burdened: I have addressed the issue of re-gifting before, so pay attention this time. This is how re-gifting works. I hope you carefully unwrapped your gifts and didn’t just rip them open. You can save a bundle by reusing the wrappings. Before you start the re-gifting process, make a note of who gave you what, what it was wrapped in, and what color ribbon it had. Iron out all the paper and ribbon so it looks more or less new. Carefully alter the gift tags so the “from” is changed to “to” on each tag and vice-versa. Decide who you think would like which present, or at least who will take what you give them. Then wrap that present in paper that the recipient didn’t use and tie with a ribbon that wasn’t used with the original wrapping. Add the newly-altered gift tag. Do this for all the gifts that you got. If you are lucky, everything will come out even and your Christmas gifts are taken care of eleven months early, and it didn’t cost you a cent. You might want to make notes of who’s getting what (some folks who have been doing this for years and who have a lot of friends keep a computer database) so you won’t make any mistakes when you re-gift the following year. Once you get in the swing of things, you can keep passing gifts around until they become valuable antiques. An alternate way of re-gifting is to not open any of your gifts at all when you get them, especially if in-laws that you don’t much like gave them to you and you have no faith in their taste whatsoever. Just put on new tags that assign each giver a different gift than the one they gave. Of course, a problem is that they might all be doing the same thing as or that some of the gifts might be perishable food items, but that is just a chance you have to take.
If all of y’all would just get each other gift certificates for services here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop, everybody would be happy with what they got and there wouldn’t be none of this re-gifting necessary. After all, who can’t use either beauty services or bait, or a combination thereof?

Dear Ida B. How do you store an artificial Christmas tree so it will look nice the following year and not all bent out of shape?—Neat Freak

Dear Freaky: You don’t. You take the decorations off and store them. Then you get a nice pot and stick the undecorated tree in it. For the next eleven months, it will be an artificial houseplant. If you want to do something seasonal with it, hang some hearts on it in February, some shamrocks on it in March, some eggs on it in April, etc., but that really isn’t necessary.

Dear Ida B. What are the odds that we’ll have a snowy winter this year?—Weather-watcher

Dear Needs Watching: The odds of anything—whether it’s the weather or whether it’s getting away with something you ought not be doing—are always 50-50. Either it will or it won’t. The exception to the 50-50 odds is the work we do down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, where odds are good that you will look much better when you leave than when you came in. Thanks to the industrial-quality hairspray we use, your new hair-do will stand up to the fiercest winter winds and will be able to hold its shape under several inches of snow if we get any and if you don’t have sense enough to go inside during a blizzard.

Dear Ida B. I just decorated my basement rec room for our New Year’s Eve party. I had to take down all them red and green streamers that we had up for the Christmas party and replace them with blue and white streamers for New Year’s. My husband and kids are always wanting to celebrate holidays but they are too busy to help with decorating. What can I do?—Too Busy Mom

Dear Over-worked: The idea is to leave up some of the old decorations. Never take down the white streamers at all. After New Year’s, take down the blue and add red for Valentine’s Day. Then take down the red streamers and add green for St. Patrick’s Day. Leave the white and green up and add yellow and blue for Easter. Then take the green and yellow down and add red for Fourth of July. You get the idea. If someone is having a wedding at your house, try to get the bridesmaids to wear dresses in whatever color is already hanging up. That shouldn’t be difficult because one of the rules of throwing a wedding is that bridesmaids have to dress tacky to make the bride look better.

Culture, Left-overs, & Red Worm Wreaths

2008-12-14T13:30:00.002-05:00

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are running our pre-Christmas special, “Deck Your Hair With Boughs of Holly,” wherein we will artfully arrange cuttings from the holly tree out behind Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop to give your hair the festive look that you sets you apart from all the other folks with festive looks. This year, we promise to wash the holly first, so we don’t have bird dropping on leaves like happened last year. Also this year, we will not use large branches, so all y’all who toppled over into punch bowls last year will not have to worry about being top-heavy. We are also running our “Hair for the Holidays” special for men, wherein we glue hair onto bald spots, but call to check for availability before you come in. If we know what color you are looking for, we can manage to save it instead of sweeping it out the door like we usually do. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Is anything of a cultural nature happening in Rock Bottom?—High-Toned

Hi, Tony: As a matter of fact, we have a Rock Bottom literary event on the horizon. Upson Downer’s new inspirational memoir, Life’s a Downer, will be hot off the press soon. Not the printing press. His book was actually published last year, but—as he was trucking the thousand copies home from the printer—a storm came up and soaked all the boxes in the back of his open pick-up where they have remained damp ever since. Luckily Stanley “Spot” Lifter, owner of Rock Bottom Dry Cleaners, who rarely gets any business because folks just throw their clothes into their washing machine and hope for the best, has an industrial-type pressing machine and promises to iron out all the damp, wrinkled pages in time for Upson’s reading and signing at the Rock Bottom Livestock Market sometime before Christmas. We are not able to give an exact date for this event on account some buyers have not yet picked up their cows. Keep in mind that previous book readings and signings have not gone over too well in Rock Bottom because if an author reads the book to them, folks figure out they don’t need to buy it since they’ve already heard the good parts. Also, signing is not a very exciting spectator sport. Most Rock Bottomites like events with some action, preferably events that involved hollering, fighting, shooting, racing, and betting—none of which are likely to happen at book-signings. Even worse, spectators ain’t likely to buy bait or get their hair done beforehand, so it doesn’t profit us here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop either.

Dear Ida B. I will be hosting a dinner party during the holidays. Could you give me some suggestions to make the event less stressful? I’m attending a series of dinner parties before I give mine, and I don’t know when I’ll find time to prepare.—Still Getting Over Thanksgiving

Dear Get-Over-It: Don’t try to recycle your Thanksgiving leftovers, even though the green mold on the turkey will certainly give your dinner a festive look. If you haven’t fed your Thanksgiving leftovers to your dawg, now is the time to do so. If you don’t have a dawg, you ought to get one. Dawgs are invaluable to help with clean-up when you spill stuff, and they help persuade your guests not to overstay their welcome. Also, if anybody gives you a fruitcake as a hostess gift, the dawg can take care of it. Just in case you ain’t been previously warned, never eat a gift fruitcake. Some have been passed around through various Rock Bottom/Slick Water Lake homes for years. If you are attending a bunch of other dinner parties, you’re in luck. Just carry a large handbag with a bunch of plastic containers inside. When nobody is looking, just scrape some of whatever’s being served into your containers. When you get home, combine the contents of all your containers into a casserole and put plenty of grated cheese on top. If it’s dessert, again mix everything together and smother the result in whipped cream. If anybody asks what you’re serving, just say it’s a secret family recipe. Before your dinner party, be sure to stop in at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for a whole new look. If your guests are busy admiring how good you look, they won’t pay much attention to what you’re serving.

Dear Ida B. What can you suggest in the way of a door decoration that embodies the holiday spirit?—Needs Help

Dear Needy: You can’t go wrong with one of our red worm wreaths from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. It’s simple yet elegant. When it’s too cold to go fishing, we sometimes have an overstock of red worms that tend to take over the bait tank, so a couple of years ago, my manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, got the idea of duct-taping them to a wreath, tucking a few evergreens behind them, and hanging them up. Those wriggly worms add an interactive effect that is so popular in decorations nowadays, but they don’t do annoying things like singing whenever anyone walks by. Plus, if Santa brings anybody in your household a new fishing pole, they can always go fishing with the worms who survive the holidays. (Note: Do not hang the wreath in direct sunlight, and be sure to moisten occasionally.) If you got a lot of grabby grandkids who are always tearing up your decorations and popping them in their mouths, a red worm wreath is a sure-fire cure for that. (You can coax the remaining worms to just lean over a little and no one will notice a few are missing.)

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. Y’all have a Merry Christmas, here?

Redneck Humor, Communion, Bad Books, & Parades

2008-12-06T19:41:00.002-05:00

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are running our after-Thanksgiving special, “Up-dos That Will Take Folks’ Eyes Off Your Thighs Because You Pigged Out On Cakes and Pies,” for folks who ate all those extra helpings at Thanksgiving. All of us down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop naturally couldn’t take off all those extra pounds, but we were able to increase hair-do heights enough to create an illusion of thinness. (Note: For all y’all who partook of the special but subsequently didn’t heed our warnings regarding ceiling fans or low ceilings, we will repair the damage during our pre-Christmas make-overs.) Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I hear you write redneck humor. So how’s that working for you?—Your buddy, Dr. P.

Dear Philsie: Not as good as it works for Jeff Foxworthy. Good thing I’ve got Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop to fall back on. (P.S. Thanks for that big tip you gave me last time you came in.)

Dear Ida B. Is anything happening at Our Lady of the Rip-Rap Church out at Slick Water Lake? You rarely mention it anymore.—Wintering in Boca

Dear Boca Babe: What a coincidence! A couple of my customers were just mentioning that Father Rocky Shore is planning another Communion Wine-Tasting Party, on account the one last year was so popular. If this year’s is another hit, they might even go to a Communion Wine Festival in future years. Also this year, because so many folks requested it, Our Lady will have cheese to go on the communion wafers. A committee has formed to decide on what kinds of cheese to offer and if the cheese should be local or imported. They have figured that it will be cheaper to buy in bulk, so they are looking for volunteers to cut the cheese right before each service. The committee working on the proposal to offer fat-free high-fiber wafers hasn’t made a final decision yet. The annual Our Lady of the Rip-Rap Blessing of the Jet Skis had to be postponed because it rained and nobody wanted to get wet during the event.

Dear Ida B. What is going on in our schools!? The other day my grand daughter came home with this awful book that she had checked out of the Rock Bottom Elementary School library. That book was the awfullest thing I ever saw and not fit for kids to read! It was all about parental neglect, cannibalism, violence, and witchcraft! How do we get books such as this “Hansel and Gretel” book out of our schools?—Concerned Gramma

Dear Granny: Not to worry. Nowadays, the average kid ain’t likely to pick up a book and read it anyhow. Unless the teachers or parents tell them not to. You haven’t told your grand daughter not to read it, have you? If you did, you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.

Dear Ida B. I hear that Rock Bottom Town Council is really clamping down on entries Christmas parade this year, but I didn’t hear all the details. What gives?—I Luvva Parade

Dear Luvvie: There’s a lot of new regulations, but the one that affects many is the one that says any manure spreader that is used as the basis for a float needs to be washed out good before it is decorated. A lot of folks last year didn’t clean theirs real good, and some folks who sat on the front row along the parade route so they could get first dibs on candy that was slung their way weren’t happy with what was actually slung their way. The parade committee is still getting the fall-out. Also, floats actually need to be Christmas themed. Any float that appeared in last summer’s Fourth of July parade will not be eligible for prizes, no matter how many elves you might have dancing around a cardboard Statue of Liberty. Also trying to pass off Uncle Sam as Santa Claus doesn’t work, despite the white beard on both. Finally, no matter how bad you want to show off your new John Deere, you got to have a float behind it. Trying to say your float fell off so you can go the route is not good enough. Good luck with your entry.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Hanging Bodies, Yankee Re-education & Security

2008-11-12T18:23:00.002-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle on November 14, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we’re about midway between two major eating holidays, Halloween and Thanksgiving. For Halloween, it didn’t matter much what your hair looked like, but looks are important for Thanksgiving when all those relatives you haven’t seen since last year descend on your house and cast a critical eye on your housekeeping, your cooking, and your looks—specifically how much older you look than you did last year. While we can’t do much about your green bean and mushroom soup casserole or the stains on your carpet, we can get you fixed up enough that your relatives won’t insult your looks as much as they’re generally capable of. So come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop where we’re running our “Makeover to be Thankful For” special. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Yo, Ida B. Whassup with all the violence here in the country? I mean, I moved my wife and kids out of a certain big Eastern city (initials might be N & Y) to get away from vermin and dead bodies. And what do I find here? Vermin and dead bodies! Man, like what gives?
My kids put up a bird feeder and all I see eatin’ outta it is bushy-tailed rats. I mean, city rats got naked tails, at least where we come from. Whassup with that? And the dead bodies. All over the sides of the roads. Where we come from, the bodies were in the streets and on sidewalks. (Or maybe in the East River weighted down with cinder blocks. Not that I have ever been involved with that!) At least your dead bodies have the decency to die beside the road. My kids, however, don’t like this any more than they did the city. They’re upset enough not havin’ sidewalks.

And now, Willie-Bob-Hank-Bubba next door got a dead body hanging in his front yard. Whassup with that? My kid’s all upset ‘cuz there’s this dead body bleeding all over the dirt. Gives him flashbacks to—uh, just forget I mentioned the flashbacks, OK? And it’s got horns coming out of its head. Is this some kind of demon that lives in these parts? I somehow thought the country life would be safer. You been here a while, Ida B. Whaddya think? Should we stay and get used to Willie-Bob-Hank-Bubba and his dead demonic thing? Or should we go back to the city?

And by the way, if you need “protection” in your bait and beauty racket or maybe you’re having trouble with folks not payin’ up on time, I know people. Just say the word.—S.O. Prano (new resident makin’ a new start)

Dear Soppie: Obviously you ain’t from around here. Likely it will take you a while to get used to local customs and wildlife. Fortunately Rock Bottom Community College is once again offering it’s “Yankee Re-education” class for newcomers, wherein you will learn such points of Rock Bottom etiquette as the proper finger to use when returning the Bubba wave, what you can and cannot shoot from a moving vehicle, dumpster safety after dark, when to dumpster dive and when to refrain from doing so, what to do when the well runs dry (and where to do it), how to confront loose livestock, and lots of other stuff. These classes tend to fill up fast, so you’d best enroll early. You might also want to sign up for the “Hazardous Plant and Animal Recognition” class, in which you will learn what cute little furry critters you can approach and which you ought not to get near as well as what plants not to hike through (Note: Until you pass this class, do not let your kids pet any furry little black and white animals. They are not kittens. And any plant with three leaves you do not want to get involved with.) If your wife wants to blend in with the natives, tell her to make an appointment at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and we’ll see what we can do. If she has a heavy accent, please let us know, so we can have a translator available.

Dear Ida B. We have moved to a really rural area of the county and I am worried about security. We can’t afford one of those fancy security systems. Do you have any ideas about how we can protect ourselves?—Worried

Dear Worried: As a matter of fact, I do. Some of my regular customers down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop were just talking about this. Seems one of them got an email with suggestions to get a pair of men’s boots, size 13 or 14, and leave them on the stoop next to a copy of Guns and Ammo magazine and several very large dog dishes. Then leave a note on the door that you will be back in an hour because you are out buying more ammo and not to go inside because the dawgs attacked the mailman again and you had to pen them up in the house. Now, some of us didn’t think this would leave a strong enough message. Here’s how we improved upon the original suggestion: Duct tape cameras to trees around your property. You might alternate camera placement with “No Trespassing” signs. Also, plant poison ivy around your property. It’s pretty and green and tends to discourage trespassers, or at least it will leave its mark on people who trespass. About 25 feet in from the cameras/signs/poison ivy, put up more signs that read, “If you can read this, you’re in range.” If you have open fields or a big yard, put up signs that say, “Mine Field. Not responsible for accidents.” On your stoop, put up another sign that says, “Walk softly so you won’t wake up the rattlesnakes.” That ought to get the message across to trespassers.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Halloween, Peasants, Tattoos, Kids, & Toilet Paper

2008-11-11T14:21:00.003-05:00

This column was originally published on Oct. 31, 2007, in the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where everybody is getting ready for Halloween, so they have just let themselves go and ain’t making any appointments for beauty services until after the fright season is over. When you’re sweating inside a gorilla mask for four or five hours, a new up-do is the last thing on your mind. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Is Halloween a big deal in Rock Bottom like it is in big cities with all the parties, costumes, decorations, haunted houses, and trick-or-treating?—City Person

Dear City Slicker: Halloween is not a big deal in Rock Bottom because most Rock Bottomites do not generally get involved in anything requiring time, effort, or money. The exception, of course, is Christmas and that is only because they expect to get better presents than they give. Many Rock Bottom houses are already in various states of disrepair so they already look like haunted houses. Some might be actually haunted, but the owners do not make that fact known to potential buyers. As for costumes, residents generally find a look they like and stick with it no matter what. That is why you see so many Rock Bottom men still wearing pastel polyester leisure suits. My manicurist Honey Sue Sweetwater will not wear anything that doesn’t involve a halter-top, so this limits her choice of outfits, not that any of her regular male customers care. As for local teenagers, it is hard to tell if their purple hair, pierced body parts, and ripped clothes are actual costumes or just them trying to “find” themselves by looking funny. Members of the Rock Bottom Road Hunters Association sometimes try to pass their camo outfits off as costumes at Halloween, but many have never worn anything else so no one is convinced they in costume as a bush or a forest or whatever. Trick or treating does not go over well in Rock Bottom because too many folks have bad experiences with guys in masks demanding stuff from them. After you’ve handed over your 8-track player or your credit cards a time or two, you tend not to trust anybody knocking on your door for a handout. While there are plenty of folks out at Slick Water Lake who dress up in costumes and go to parties, what most Rock Bottomites do to celebrate Halloween is buy themselves a big sack of candy, lock their doors and turn out all the lights, and eat the whole sack themselves. This seems to work pretty good for all concerned.

Dear Ida B. A buddy of mine owns a game preserve in a remote area of the county, and he called me to come out and go hunting with him. My cell phone connection ain’t too clear, but I understood him to say we would be shooting red-neck peasants. Ain’t that illegal?—Just Checking

Dear JC: Is it possible he meant ring-necked pheasants? If so, you’re OK. However, if he is in a really remote area and he is feuding with his neighbors, you might want to decline his invitation because of possible legal implications.

Dear Ida B. At age 89 I married a young chick about 78. I don’t know too much about her, except that she lost a lot of weight before we met. She has a lot of tattoos that have gotten so saggy, I can’t tell what they say. They might be the names of former husbands. How can I find out whose names they are without coming right out and asking? She might take offense and then the honeymoon would be over. I thought about kinda stretching her skin out when she is asleep, but the problem is I fall asleep before she does.—Curious

Dear Curious: If all you got to do is wonder what your bride’s tattoos say, I would say the honeymoon is pretty much over. Especially if you’re sleeping through most of it.

Dear Ida B. I have moved down here to Slick Water Lake and really love it. However, my kids and their families stayed up north. How can I convince them to move down here? Having to drive all that way to see the grandkids is a hassle.—Jaz

Dear Jaz: You gotta be kidding, right? Most Slick Water Lakers ask me for advice on how to keep their kids from finding them. Some have even joined the witness protection program, changed their names, etc. However, if you want to attract your kids, my suggestion is offer them money. Lots of it. Few kids can resist the lure of money. If that doesn’t work, maybe you can arrange to have the grandchildren shipped to you. If they are teenagers, their parents are probably at wit’s end and would do anything to get rid of them until they’re old enough to ship off to college. Other than that, I am stumped. Maybe some of my loyal readers will write in with suggestions.

Dear Ida B. I read in the paper that toilet paper prices were rising as of January. Now I have a large family and this will affect me in a big way. Here’s how I plan to save: Every time one of the kids needs to “go,” I will tell him to go to a friend’s house and ask to use the facilities. If all six kids only go at somebody else’s house, that saves me a roll right there. What do you think of that?—Flushed with Excitement

Dear Tightwad: Not much. If you got six kids, all of them probably has a half dozen or so friends each. The parents of all those friends will likely send their kids to your house to “go.” Do the math here. Any savings you thought you might have will be down the drain.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Limp Hair, Heavy Metal, & Costly Book Reviews

2008-10-24T22:13:00.002-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on Oct 17, 2007

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where most of whatever there is to do has mostly been done, so folks have headed somewhere else to do other things. However, if you stuck in Rock Bottom and want to fix yourself up so you don’t look like a fright at Halloween, give us a call down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and we’ll see what we can do. This time of the year we generally have plenty of openings. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. The other day I was en route to a business meeting when I noticed that my hair was a little limp. Knowing that I had to look my best at the presentation I was about to make, I figured I could swing by home and use my curling iron to freshen my hairdo and maybe spritz on a little more hairspray. Well, no sooner than I walked in the front door, I heard all kinds of giggling and carrying on from the upstairs bathroom. Since my husband works second shift, I figured he’d just watched a funny TV show before showering. Well, when I walked in, I not only found my husband but also my best friend Poovie Mae and they were—well, words fail me, Ida B. Anyhow, after slinging my can of hairspray at Poovie Mae and knocking out her front tooth, which caused me to get splattered with blood, I ran out of there and backed my convertible out of the driveway and right into a garbage truck, which dumped its load on top of me (I had the top down). While the cop was writing me a ticket for reckless driving, my cellphone rang and it was the school saying my son skipped class to go shop-lifting. Well, I was late to my meeting and lost my job. Ida B., what should I do?—Distraught

Dear Distraught: If I was you, I’d make make an appointment right away for a body perm here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. If you’d done that earlier you wouldn’t be in such a mess. Also, ain’t nothing like a new hair-do to brighten your outlook.

Dear Ida B. What do you think of heavy metal?—Luvs It Loud

Dear Loud Luver: I like heavy metal for lawn furniture. That plastic stuff just don’t hold up as good. I’ve got some heavy metal chairs I’ve owned for over three decades, and it still looks as good as new, except for a dent in one where I threw it at one of my ex-husbands. I also like heavy metal bumpers on vehicles. If you happen to collide with escaped livestock, that heavy metal bumper can be a lifesaver. Well, for you, not the livestock. I don’t care for heavy metal hair curlers, though. We tried them once down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, and they weighed down customers’ heads too much and left rust marks on their scalps. Then there was that unfortunate thunderstorm when one of our customers had a full head of heavy metal curlers when the lightning struck, but I’m not at liberty to talk about that until after the case is settled. Consequently, we sold most of our remaining heavy metal curlers to be used as fishing sinkers, and folks seem to think they worked real well.

Dear Ida B. I have wrote a book while I was doing time—uh, when I had a lot of time on my hands, and when I had access to the printing facilities at the place where I was staying for 2 to 4 (but I got time off for good behavior!), I sorta self-published, though you might say my printing costs were underwrote by the government. Anyhow, I’ve got a thousand copies under my bed, or at least what I don’t have in the back of my pick-up on any given day. It is real tiring selling books off the side of the road, especially with the cops stopping by so often. Ida B., I know you have wrote some books, so I am now wondering if you could give me some advice on how to sell my book of existential poems that will touch your heart, “Although Mama Tried, It Was Incarceration That Adjusted My Attitude, or Zen and the Art of Making License Plates.”—Time Out

Dear Doing Time: Yes, it is true that I have written some books, and I have found that folks don’t buy books they have never heard of, but of course everybody who comes into Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop is given the opportunity to buy my books. Now the other day, our local poet, Anna Motter Peyah, who often conducts classes in written expression of the poetical kind at the Rock Bottom Institute of Livestock and Literary Management, has branched out. Since her classes in the “Passion of Poetry and De-Horning Cattle” hadn’t filled up the way she wanted, she had to get a part-time job as the person who writes up orders over at the Rock Bottom Automotive Repair Shop. Anyhow, she has a lot of time on her hands, since it don’t take long to write, “Fix this transmission by Tuesday,” which is what she has to write since her longer poetical attempts weren’t appreciated because no mechanic wants to read: “The Chevy is red, the tire is flat, the gas tank is leaky, can you fix that?” Anyhow, she has gone into the book review business. For $25 she will write a review and post it on bathroom walls in at least five Rock Bottom establishments. Her reviews all tend to be the same: “(Title) by (author) is a must read for anyone who wants (pick one: to have his or her heart or other major organ touched/to have a good laugh/to have a good cry/to read something that don’t have big words). If this is the sort of book you like, you will like this book.” You might want to look into her services. Then again, you might not.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Rats, Education, & Gas

2008-10-09T21:54:00.003-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on Oct. 3, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where ain’t much happening this week, so lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I understand that over in Big Mall City they are having problems with rats in their schools. Does Rock Bottom have a rat problem?—E. Eking

Dear Eek: Well, the little rats in the Rock Bottom schools generally drop out at an early age, but some of the rats I’ve been married to have been—oh, were you maybe referring to the 4-legged kind? In that case, Rock Bottom rats ain’t a problem; they’re a solution. The Rock Bottom schools have found creative ways to deal with their rats. In the elementary schools, each classroom has its own dog, either a Jack Russell or a rat terrier, which takes care of problems that arise and provide an interesting science lesson in survival of the fittest, fastest, and bittingest. When not dealing with rats, these feisty little dogs also help with classroom discipline. It only takes a few nips to the ankles to let a rowdy kid know he’d better stay in his seat.

At Rock Bottom Middle School, each class maintains a spirit rat, which they dress in class colors and use to compete against other class rats. Teachers decided that class rats provided the perfect way to introduce students to the rat race. Consequently, rat races are especially popular, and figuring odds and handicaps is a fun way for the kids to learn advanced math skills. While a few kids on the football team had been holding rat fights out behind the bleachers, this has been stopped and the rats involved are being patched up and rehabilitated.

At the high school, rats are used in the family life skills class. Used to, every gal in the class was assigned an egg, which she had to pretend was a baby and carry it around and tend to its supposed needs. That did not work too good, because some of them egg-babies got slung at other kids and a few got scrambled for the next day’s breakfast. By the end of the first week, there wasn’t an uncracked egg-baby left. Then, the school changed to having the gals haul around 10-pound sacks of flour, but those flour-babies left a dusting wherever they was sat.

When a bunch of the gals left their flour babies setting on a cafeteria table and returned to find the cafeteria ladies had used them to bake pizza crust, the family life teachers didn’t know what to do until the cafeteria ladies complained about the rat problem. The janitor trapped a bunch of rats and—since they looked too cute to get rid of—the teachers just assigned one to each gal to be her class project in baby care.

Well, it took a while, but eventually the gals really took to them rats. They made them little rat outfits in home ec and taught them tricks in physical education. Some even put ’em in strollers and rolled ’em all over town. If you think they’re not learning proper baby-handling skills, you just try putting a Huggie on a squirming rat. Any gal who can master that skill is prepared for the worst that a toddler can throw at her. At first, parents weren’t too thrilled with having to house and support the rats, but some of the daddies decided the rats, which the girls took with them on dates, were a good idea. Any boy who let his hand wander where it ought not to be was immediately bitten, and the bite marks were proof to the gals’ daddies that the boys were up to no good.

So, while some schools consider rats a liability, in the Rock Bottom schools, rats are considered an asset.

Dear Ida B. Been reading in daily RagStar that purchasing power of our 17 cent per gallon gasoline tax is being "eroded" by inflation. We need a gas tax increase to keep up! Not sure about this erosion thing, but seems to me that if we purchase more gallons of gasoline year to year, then somebody (at the state capital?) gets more and more gasoline tax revenue year to year. More and more gas tax revenue to waste (sorry) no matter what hillside that inflation thing is eroding. —E.T. at Buck Run on Slick Water Lake

Dear ET: For some reason, I want to tell you to phone home. Could be your wife is looking for you. Anyhow, I would not worry about erosion out at Slick Water Lake. It is part of the economy. Every time erosion opens up a gully and it fills with water, a gang of real estate agents start calling it a cove, give it a fancy name, charge inflated prices for lots on either side of it, and sell those lots to yankees who think they’re getting a good deal. Then, when that gully dries up and fills with junk, those realtors will sell the yankees another lot on another gully with another fancy name at an even higher inflated price. If the gully is real big, then some out-of-state developer moves in, bulldozes everything off, builds condos, and sells those at even more inflated prices. All those realtors use a lot of gas driving around, and so do all those yankees who are looking for their retirement homes. Plus they will use more and more gas to drive their big SUVs miles to find somewhere to shop because it is hard to squeeze a shopping center in those gullies. If folks at the state capital get a cut, that is just how the wealth is spread around. Basically, this is how the economy works at Slick Water Lake. If they ever run out of yankees or eroded gullies, the whole economy will likely collapse.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Thanks to ET for letter #2. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Stickers, Tomaters, Camping, & Run-downs

2008-09-22T17:47:00.001-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on September 5, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are now back to normal what with Labor Day being over, most of the tourists and houseguests who have overstayed their welcome gone back to where ever they were from, and the kids back in school—leastways the ones who ain’t been expelled again. It is cause to celebrate, so we are running our annual “Wash Them Freeloaders Right Outta Your Hair” special. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I seen in the Big Mall City paper that a neighboring county is doing away with the county stickers that go on windshields. The county where I mostly reside when I’m not incarcerated still requires stickers. I can’t afford them things anymore, what with having to pay those extra fees for reckless driving and all. I’m wondering if I couldn’t just scrape off what’s left of my sticker and say I’m from the county that don’t require them. It ain’t like they could check my driver’s license to see if I’m telling the truth. My license was revoked years ago. What do I have to lose?—Am I smart or what?

Dear What: Based on your letter, I don’t think you have much of anything left to lose. It sounds like you’re already a pretty big loser. I will enter your letter in my loser of the week contest.

Dear Ida B. The other day my wife sent me to the store for some of them sun-dried tomatoes to put in some kinda new-fangled recipe, but before I got there I stopped to help Bubba Jr., DeWayne, and Darrell rebuild a transmission. Darrell said he’d give me some fresh tomatoes outta his garden so I set them on the hood of my truck whilst we got the transmission fixed. By the time we finished, the store was closed, but those tomatoes had been setting in the sun for several hours and looked pretty dried out to me, so I figured they’d do. Well, don’t you know my wife pitched a pit and it wasn’t just because I was a little late—maybe five or six hours. She said she is tired of me disregarding her instructions and ruining her dinner party, which I maybe forgot she was having. Anyhow, now she says I owe her a new skillet on account hers got damaged while she was whopping me upside the head with it. Tell me, Ida B., what is it women want?—Clueless

Dear Clueless: I’ll tell you what they don’t want. They don’t want a husband who is so stupid that he don’t come home when he is supposed to with what he is supposed to. I suggest you get her the new frying pan and you attach to the handle a gift certificate for Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Also flowers. And maybe candy. Possibly a new car and not one that you rebuilt. Then maybe you will be worth forgiving. But don’t count on it. Meanwhile, I am entering your letter in the loser of the week contest.

Dear Ida B. I have been living in various campgrounds around Slick Water Lake for the last few years. The problem has been that I no sooner get settled in that I got to move. Now I hear that a law might be in the works to allow us, uh, “campers” to stay at least six months at one campground. This will be a lot more convenient but brings up the question of etiquette. Currently, every few weeks me and my buddies have rotated. For example, I move from my campsite at Soggy Shores Campground to Bubba’s site at Camper’s Paradox and Bubba would go to Buren’s site at Boggy Bay Campground and Buren would go to Clem’s site at Mosquito Isle Campground and Clem would go to Clevis’s site at Stagnant Waters Campground and Clevis would move to my site. Now that we can stay longer, should we just pair off into two-man teams and swap back and forth every six months, or do we need to keep rotating? If we pair off, who decides who gets what campground? Some are better than others. —Camper in Transit.

Dear Camper: I think y’all ought to keep moving the way y’all are already doing. Y’all strike me as the kind who can wear out their welcomes pretty quick. In fact, y’all might consider moving to some out-of-state campgrounds. I hear they got some nice ones on the other side of the country.

Dear Ida B. I am tired of my mama-in-law running me down all the time and calling me a lazy good-for-nothing who ain’t fit to have married her daughter. Granted, I don’t have a job, but I’m a real go-gitter. My wife works two jobs and I drive her to both of them and then I go git ’er, even though it disrupts my TV-watching and my napping something awful. I usually let her ride right up in the cab of the pick-up, too, unless Ol’ Blue don’t feel like riding in back. What can I do to get my mama-in-law to stop running me down?—Misunderstood Male

Dear Lazy Good-For-Nothing: If I was your mama-in-law, I would run you down, too. Only I’d use an F-250 with four-wheel drive. Now get outta that recliner and go get a job! As it stands now, you are a strong contender for loser of the week down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. I hope your mama-in-law is here the day that we do the voting.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. If you need More Peevish Advice, it’s available on amazon.com and at the General Store in Westlake. Or flag me down on the highway; I’ve usually got a copy or two that I can spare.

Tight Dresses, Rental Dawgs, & Traffic

2008-08-16T19:51:00.003-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on August 22, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop where most of my clients have been marking time until their kids go back to school and they can see some peace and quiet. Mainly they will have time to get theirselves fixed up again down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Some are concerned about a certain high school’s “tighter dress code” on account their daughters’ dresses are about as tight as they can get, and the gals don’t see how they can get them any tighter to bring them up to code. I just refer them to the Rock Bottom House of Polyester up at the mall where Spandex is always a good fashion choice. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I seen a while back in the Big Mall City paper that some folks in one of them big cities has started a business wherein they arrange for other folks to get timeshares in dawgs. Kinda like the dawgs is owned by a bunch of folks instead of just one. Since I own quite a few dawgs that I only use during hunting season, I figger this is a good way to make a little extra cash and let others feed my dawgs at the same time. I would like to learn how this system works, on account I don’t think I did it right. What I done was drive Flossie and her pups out to one of them real classy Slick Water Lake neighborhoods. I didn’t see nary a dawg in sight, so I figured folks there might be needful of them. I thought I had the rope tied real good to Flossie and the pups when I knocked on the door of a big house, but when some lady opened the door them dawgs broke loose and commenced to running through the place. The lady commenced to squalling and carrying on like you wouldn’t believe whilst I tried to explain my rate system to her. Well, it weren’t long til them dawgs came running out with pieces of some fur coat in their mouths. Then the woman really pitched a fit. She said they had ruined her 1920s raccoon coat that she had just bought off eBay. (I’m not familiar with that store, but if it ain’t in Rock Bottom, it probably ain’t worth shopping at.) I tried to explain that a coat that old ain’t fit to wear on account you don’t know what kinda crawly critters have took up residence in it, but I don’t think she paid me no mind.

Now, Ida B., my question is, how do I get her to pay the vet bill for them pups. Eating that coat made them real sick to their stomachs, and one thing you do not want is several hound dawgs throwing up all over the seat of your pick-up on a regular basis. After I dropped the pups off at the vet, I drove the pick-up through the carwash with the windows down and that took care of the mess, so I figure she owes me the $5 for that expense, too.—Needs to Collect

Dear Needy: Odds are good she ain’t gonna pay you. I figure you just need to cut your losses. Maybe you can claim it as a deduction on your taxes, but I’m guessing you never got around to paying taxes. You might be thrilled—or at least consoled—to know that your letter qualified you for the “Stupidest Thing a Man Has Done This Week” award that we give here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. All of my customers voted you as the winner. When you come in to collect your complimentary can of nightcrawlers, please do not bring your dawgs.

Dear Ida B. I have condo at Slick Water Lake where I spend most weekends and holidays, and I am having a terrible problem getting there. Once there, I have a terrible time driving from one place to another. All the roads are full of cars—sometimes bumper to bumper. I have tried blasting the horn on my Hummer to try to get people to move out of the way, but there’s not much “out of the way” left, what with all the shops and condos built right up to the roadside. Is something going to be done about the crowded road situation?—Impatient Out-of-Towner

Dear Out-of-It: As a matter of fact, some plans are in the works right now. Town council, which meets at the Rock Bottom Bar & Grill after bowling on Thursday nights was discussing the matter recently. Their plans ain’t been leaked to the press, but they have been plugged into the gossip pipeline here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop by a very reputable source (my manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater who moonlights as a waitress at the RBB&G). It seems that several folks are going to build helicopter pads around Slick Water Lake for purposes of emergency transport. Most situations will qualify as emergency. For example, when you want to go to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, ain’t that an emergency? If so, the helicopter will pick you up and drop you off. All you got to do is stand on your deck and catch on to the rope ladder that they’ll drop. If you are afraid of heights, you’d best get over it. Another option is the Slick Water Lake Ferry. A group of investors are planning on operating ferry boats to take you from one place to another on the lake. If you don’t want to go any particular place—no problem. The Ferry can convert to a sight-seeing boat pretty doggone quick. This should take care of some of the traffic problem, or at least move it to the air and the lake.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. But if you want to pay for my advice, More Peevish Advice is available. It’s the perfect gift to give houseguests who have overstayed their welcome, and I know some of y’all still got guests who came for Easter week and ain’t left yet.

Plots, Umbrella Rage, & Assorted Debris

2008-07-06T21:48:00.003-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on August 8, 2007. The Britney Spears reference dates it a bit. . . .

Howdy, Ida b. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom US of A, where we are in the home stretch of summer, and it’s too hot to do much of anything. If you ain’t got nothing better to do, you might as well come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and get a new look for fall.

Dear Ida B. My husband and I love our home on Slick Water Lake and we want to stay here forever. However, we have noticed that there are very few cemeteries in the area. Do you have any idea where we can get a burial plot?—Aging Gracefully

Dear Gracie: Lots of folks are dying to stay in the area but must face the fact of being shipped elsewhere when the inevitable happens. But the grave situation you face is opening up. Over at Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit, Rev. Al E. Looyah is willing to make a deal for the few remaining plots in the church cemetery and is currently accepting sealed bids. Just slip yours into the collection plate next time you’re there. At the end of the year, Rev. Al will announce the winners. Also, if you so choose, you may buy a section of the church parking lot to be buried in. Your headstone will mark the memorial parking space in your honor. In fact, if you want to buy a plot and erect your headstone now, you will be able to park your car right there every Sunday and most Bingo nights if you pay a slight extra charge for the parking fee. Rev. Al figures this is a win-win situation for everybody.

Now, if you ain’t a member of Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit, there is another option: Slick Water Lake Country Club. The management of the club figured that it wouldn’t hurt the golf course much to inter folks underneath it and could provide a needed service as well as extra income for the club. In fact, many members spend most of their lives golfing, so spending eternity on the golf course is right up their alley. The only downside is that you can’t have a headstone unless it is flush with the ground and if you elect interment in one of the sand traps, you can’t have any marker at all. Likewise for the putting greens. And you can’t have a graveside service during tournaments. Of course, preference is given to those who are already members for the RBCC’s “Hole in One” Burial Plan.

Some developers on the few open spaces around Slick Water Lake are being pressured to include green space in their development plans. A couple of them figured that they can combine green space with a cemetery, and kill two birds with one stone. Look for the “Buy a Lot, Get a Plot” promotion that guarantees homeowners a final resting place within sight of their chosen homesite.

A few of the Rock Bottom agrarian professionals are thinking about selling space under their hayfields, but they haven’t worked out all the details yet. It probably wouldn’t hurt to approach a few privately and slip them a few dollars to reserve a place, if a pastoral—or pastural—setting is what you had in mind.

Dear Ida B. I been hearing about Britney Spears apologizing to folks for her umbrella rage. Why do you reckon she was mad at her parasol?—A fan

Dear Fanny: She wasn’t mad at her parasol. She was mad at somebody in a car, and hit the car with her umbrella. We discussed this at length down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, and the consensus is that she could have done a lot better at pitching a fit. One of the alternatives suggested by my customers was kicking in a car door, but those who have tried that said not to wear flip-flops or sandals when you do it. Steel-toed boots, while not especially feminine or dressy, are the only footwear you want to wear for car-door kicking. Another customer suggested bashing somebody’s head into a doublewide (a singlewide works just as well but is not as spectacular), but legal fees and repair bills can be expensive for this.

Dear Ida B. We live out on Slick Water Lake and we’re just appalled at all the debris that washes into our cove every time it rains. Can’t somebody do something?—Pristine

Dear Priss: As matter of fact, something has been done. Several dozen committees were formed to deal with this very problem, and they came up with an idea based on the Rock Bottom Rescue-a-Roadway program wherein street-walkers pick up trash. Originally they wanted folks to sign up to wade in the shallows and pick up trash along the lake, but they found out it is durn hard to stuff a 500-pound log into a plastic trashbag and most folks don’t find it comfortable to wade over riprap. Consequently, they came up with the “Cruise the Cove” program, wherein teenagers are issued jet skis for the purpose of towing the flotsam and jetsam out of coves as fast as they can. The kids have a good time, and except for the occasional swimmer or skier knocked over by the towed log, everything seems to be working out. Well, there was the instance of a couple of party-goers who saw an odd shaped log zipping across the lake and didn’t see the jet ski towing it and thought that the Lock Ness monster had moved into Slick Water Lake. Fortunately, there are enough weird things happening at the lake that most folks didn’t get overly upset at the rumor, other than a few committees putting up signs that say “Don’t feed the Slick Water Lake monster within 50 feet of the shoreline.”

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Courtly Stuff & Statue Beheadings

2008-06-18T14:28:00.004-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on July 11, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop located in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where it is too doggone hot to do much of anything, but for some reason we have a steady stream of male customers wanting manicures now that my manicurist Honey Sue Sweetwater has started wearing her bikini to work so she can go straight to Slick Water Lake after she gets off. Now lessee what we got in the mail. Most of it seems to be of a courtly nature.

Dear Ida B. I was in downtown Rock Bottom the other day and weren’t nary a soul on the street. I walked past the courthouse and happened to look in the window. The place was packed with old codgers just setting there and watching a trial. What is going on? Was there a big case that I didn’t hear about?—Visitor

Dear Visitor: Not much happens in Rock Bottom to warrant a big case. We don’t have much criminal activity here on account nobody has anything worth stealing, so most criminals go to bigger cities to commit their crimes. What we do have in the courthouse is air conditioning and comfortable chairs, so a lot of locals wander in to partake of those amenities after they’ve gotten a manicure from Honey Sue Sweetwater here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Plus they get entertained by finding out who is passing bad checks, who shop-lifted, who trespassed and how, and who is involved in domestic disturbances. Watching trials is better than watching reruns on TV, and you are likely to know or be kin to the folks involved. Shortly after court is dismissed, news of who is guilty and what they’re guilty of hits the streets. Soon all this gossip makes its way to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop where we improve on it considerably.

My dee-vorce lawyer, Maycomb Philmore Payne, says he is now being asked for his autograph pretty regularly by some of his fans in the courtroom, so he is thinking about having little legal action figures made up to sell during court recesses.

Commonwealth Attorney Noll Prost has given some thought to charging admission to some of the more spectacular trials, but figured if he charged the spectators for watching, he might have to pay the accused for appearing. Consequently, it is still free to watch court cases in air-conditioned comfort, so that is why it is popular with a lot of Rock Bottomites. Also many wives lock the old codgers out during the day so they don’t get underfoot, and they have to go somewhere until their wives let them back in.

If you’d like to watch the proceedings, you’d best get there early for a good seat. They go fast on hot days.

Dear Ida B. Regarding the previous letter, does the Rock Bottom court have anybody like that TV Judge Judy. She is really hot!—Court-Watcher

Dear Old Codger: The Rock Bottom judge, the honorable Thoreau D’Booke Adam, is not exactly what you’d call hot except when the air conditioning at the courthouse goes on the fritz. In fact, many who have been found guilty by him say he is kinda cold-hearted where mercy is concerned. Since he is getting up in years, possibly his replacement will be hotter.
Ms. A. Judy Kater is a young up-and-coming defense attorney who might move up to a judgmental post when Judge Adam retires or expires, whichever comes first. She is about the only other official in court who might be considered hot on a fairly regular basis. However, her defensive clients are mostly the ones who are charged with writing bad checks, and when she gets them off, they pay her by check. Then she has to get a warrant against them when their checks bounce, they hire her again, they pay her by check—well, you can see how she stays busy but doesn’t make much money in the legal field. Therefore, she sometimes models for the Rock Bottom House of Polyester up at the mall to make a little extra money and to get her courtroom attire at a good discount. The week she was modeling swimwear in court, there was standing room only in the courtroom and not just when the bailiff said, “All rise.”

Dear Ida B. In the town where I live, some feller run his truck into the statue of our generic Confederate hero and demolished it. Has anything like that ever happened in Rock Bottom?—Rocky Mounty

Dear R.M. As a matter of fact, it has. Just last week, a mule kicked the statue of the Unknown Confederate Camp-Follower and knocked off most of her skirt. At first a lot of folks were indignant, but then they realized two important things: (1) the repairs would cost money and (2) the Unknown Confederate Camp-Follower did her best work without her skirt. Thus, they figured they could live with the damage.

For those of y’all who ain’t heard about the Unknown Confederate Camp-Follower, she was the gal who entertained General Hooker and his troops so well that he forgot about invading Rock Bottom, so all of the deserters who had been hiding were saved. Since Rock Bottom didn’t have any other Civil War heroes to speak of, unless you count General C. U. Later who was bitten by an alligator while hiding in a swamp (the “C.U. Later/Alligator” skirmish), 19th century Rock Bottomites decided to honor someone who had done something to benefit them.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Blatant commercial for one of my buddies: If y'all need some fine handcrafted purses, check this out.

Hands-On Religion, Romance & Tick-picking

2008-06-02T22:14:00.004-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on June 27, 2007. My attempt to be timely now appears sadly out-dated. Remember when Paris Hilton was in jail? And my book has been out for nearly a year!

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop located in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where Rev. Al E. Looyah wants me to tell y’all that he will not be conducting services at the Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit for a while on account of he had to go to California to do some hands-on ministering to a little gal named Paris Hilton who is having a hard time coping with her imprisonment. Rev. Al is especially good at hands-on ministering to good-looking little gals, especially those with money. Anyhow, he says that the congregation can just play Bingo on Sunday mornings until he gets back, as long as they tithe 10% of their winnings. He is aware that most of the congregation does their most fervent praying during Bingo, especially when some good prizes are at stake. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Now that Paris Hilton is doing time for all that wild stuff she did, what do you reckon that little accessory dog of her is doing? Are little bitty accessory dogs popular in Rock Bottom? Doggie Lady

Dear DL: I figure that little Tinkerbelle dog is celebrating. Finally he can just be a dog instead of having to wear all them little outfits and get taken to places that ain’t fit for a dog. As for Rock Bottom having little accessory dogs, the only place you will find them is at the Rock Bottom Mobile Home Park where the homeowners association rules require at least three chihuahuas per singlewide and five per doublewide. These feisty little dogs provide security because bite marks on the ankles can discourage many a would-be burglar. However, they are also accessory to a number of crimes, becuase it’s easy to get your pocket picked when you are distracted by something biting you on the ankle.

Dear Ida B. My potential fiancee and I will be at Slick Water Lake to look at condos we’re thinking of buying, and I want to pop the question to her in a romantic setting. I’m thinking of a picnic in a meadow, with wine and whatever gourmet meal travels well in a picnic hamper. As we lie in the grass, I want to propose to her. Afterwards, we will run through the tall grass together. What do you think? Where can I find a suitable meadow in the vicinity of Rock Bottom?—Romantic at Heart

Dear Lunatic at Heart: All of us down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop are laughing about your plans. For a while, we couldn’t figure out what a meadow was because no one around here uses that term. Then we figured that it was either a hayfield or a pasture on account of the tall grass. Of course, at certain times neither will have tall grass depending on whether the hay has just been cut or the grass is all gnawed off by whatever livestock is living there. Anyhow, after we all stopped laughing at your stupidity, we decided that you need a little educating in the ways of rural America.

For one thing, tall grass ain’t romantic on account of the critters therein. Granted, picking ticks off each other can be an intimate experience y’all will not long forget, but there ain’t no easy way to get the chiggers off yourself, much less someone else. Chiggers are an irritation that keeps on irritating. I will not even get into the snake-in-the-grass problem.

Now, should you try to have the romantic moment in a cow pasture, you have an additional set of irritations. Cows are not picky where they go, and I’m not talking direction here. If you plop down in a pasture, you are likely to experience a cow pie up close and personal, and I’m not talking pastry. Also, if you do much cavorting around and running, make sure you ain’t wearing a red garment (or if you have divested yourself of garments make sure your sunburn ain’t too red). Otherwise, you might get a little more personal attention from the bull than you would like. I hope you can run fast. Trying to out-run a half-ton of angry bovine don’t exactly make for a romantic encounter, especially if you have to stop and scratch your chigger bites.

As for gourmet meals, all you can get in Rock Bottom is something deep-fried, which is likely to attract a lot of flies while you are busy popping the question. One advantage to the deep-fried food, though, is that if your intended has fat fingers, the grease can help you slide the ring on a little better.

If it’s a romantic setting you’re after, most of us down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop suggest that you and your sweetie just go to the Rock Bottom Drive-In Movie Theater (which has a full service snack bar), park in the last row where you have more privacy than up-front, and wait for a dull part in the movie before you propose.

Dear Ida B. Can you suggest some good summer reading? I will be having guests arriving weekly at my Slick Water Lake home, so I need something escapist that doesn’t have a complex plot, can be read in spare moments, and can be easily replaced if my guests steal it when I’m not looking.—Lite Reader

Dear Lit Reader: You are in luck! My latest book, More Peevish Advice, is now available. It certainly meets all your criteria. In fact, More Peevish Advice will make its world debut on July 11 at 2:00 p.m. at the Daily Grind in downtown Rocky Mount. Please do not confuse Rocky Mount with Rock Bottom; one is hilly and the other ain’t. I am able to get away from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop on account everybody is too sweaty in mid-July to want to get their hair fixed.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Hitting Rock Bottom & Trading Spouses

2008-05-23T17:31:00.004-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on June 13, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop located in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where it has been hot and humid so lots of folks have suffered from limp hair syndrome (LHS). If you are a LHS sufferer, do not despair—Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop can help. For one thing, thanks to computer technology and the plastics industry, we can design a plastic replica of a good hair-do and attach it to your head so, at least from a distance, you project the appearance of good hair. This is expensive, so the ladies partaking of this solution mainly live at Slick Water Lake where they are pleased with the results while water-skiing and jet-skiing. Well, except for the one who the one whose head was inadvertently hooked during the last bass tournament and was reeled again against her will. Luckily, she escaped during the weigh-in and—since the hook was embedded in the plastic and not her head—suffered no actual injuries, other than being embarrassed about her weight displayed to the onlookers. Now lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. I read on Britney Spears’ blog that she “hit Rock Bottom” which then caused her to go into rehab” When did she hit and was Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop one of the places she hit?—Britney’s Big Fan

Dear Brit’s Big Fannie: I cannot verify this, although it may have happened. With all the tanned scantily-dressed young gals with attitudes that come into Rock Bottom nowadays, it is possible that she came in and was unnoticed except by some of the old coots who hang around the bait tank and pretend to be too helpless to dip their own minnows so they often ask young gals in short skirts to lean over the tank and dip out minnows for them. She could have been the one that leaned over so far that her hair went into the tank and got full of minnows, and who then grabbed my best cutting scissors and sheared off all her hair to get the minnows out. If that was her, she owes me for the damage to my scissors when she flung them at the old coots who were making comments about her, the loss of income from the minnows that I couldn’t get back into the tank in time, and the expense of having to hire someone to sweep up her hair that she left all over the place before she ran out and jumped into her sports car and sped off. I don’t know where she went after she left, but rehab is as good a place as any after you leave Rock Bottom.

Dear Ida B. My husband, Big Earl, is getting to be a real problem—and I mean more so than most men. All he does is set in his recliner and bark out orders. I thought for sure he would get out of the house when fishing season commenced, but he says the lake is too crowded and it’s too hot. Also, he might be still be hiding out from his latest fishing incident. See, he finds it a lot more efficient to just throw a stick of dynamite into the lake and let the fish float to the top. Then he scoops up what he needs and leaves the rest for others. Well, the last time he done this, he flung the dynamite into what he thought was a quiet cove but was actually where the Kamikaze Kayakers go skinny-dipping. Well, right after the BOOM, the air was filled with curses and a couple dozen nekkid women and air-borne kayaks heading straight for him. Big Earl says he was lucky to get away alive, and he still has dreams about nekkid women with paddles.

Anyhow, I have been watching these TV shows about trading spouses and houses and such. How does that work? I would like to trade up from Big Earl, and our leaky singlewide that needs major repairs. If I could get a makeover in the bargain, that would be a plus.—Big Pearl

Dear Big Pearl: Yours is not an uncommon complaint in Rock Bottom. In fact, so many clients of Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop have complained about their husbands and expressed a desire to trade them in on another model, that we are running a “Grab Bag Hubby Swap Makeover” special. How it works is like this: in order to lure some unsuspecting husbands in to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, we will advertise some bait specials too good to resist at an agreed-upon time when their wives will be here getting makeovers. When I blow a whistle, the wives will leap out of their chairs, throw a sheet over their husbands, and duct-tape it firmly in place. The men will be herded to a corner of the shop where my manicurist Honey Sue Sweetwater will attach numbers to them. Then, after each wife finishes her makeover, she will draw a number and take home whoever matches that number. As soon as she gets her match home, she will start nagging him to do whatever repairs her home needs before she releases him into the wild to find his way home. We realize that this is only a temporary solution, and there is the slight possibility that you might get your own hubby back, but it is the best we could come up with.

If your hubby won’t be lured in by our bait special and flatly refuses to leave his recliner, I suggest you duct-tape him into it and haul him in an appliance dolly down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop. Hope this helps.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Porch Setting, Road Walking, & Picking Up

2008-05-10T21:55:00.004-04:00

This column was originally published in the Smith Mountain Eagle on May 30, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are gearing up for the official Memorial Day onslaught of tourists to Slick Water Lake. Rumor has it that many long-time lake residents have already started hiding inside their homes with the blinds drawn tight and ain’t answering their phones or emails until Labor Day to avoid the steady stream of company they would otherwise get. Others have taken to their boats and won’t come ashore until under the cover of darkness. Several have visited Ida’s salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop to get their appearances changed so relatives would not recognize them. Now, lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Rumor has it that you left Rock Bottom to attend the Grand Re-Opening of the Smith Mountain Eagle. I was speedin’ down Rt. 616 about 2:30 on the afternoon of May 11, 2007, and could have sworn I saw you settin’ on the porch. I would’ve stopped, but when you’re doin’ 75 while towin’ a ski-boat, it ain’t advisable to slam on the brakes. Was it really you or did my near-sighted old eyes deceive me?—A Fan

Dear Fanny: Your eyes have it right. That was me setting on the SME porch. They had a real nice shindig in their new place. Since they offered free eats, naturally a lot of folks stopped by. Their new place still needs work. There wasn’t a rocking chair to be had on their porch, much less a comfy truck seat to set on. While their front yard had plenty of shrubbery, it lacked a car up on blocks or a major appliance out front to make a distinctive decorating statement. Plus there wasn’t a pink flamingo or a painted truck-tire flower bed in sight. Anyhow, everybody had a real good time. It’s just as well that you didn’t stop. That left more food for the rest of us.

Dear Ida B. I’ve been away from Rock Bottom for a while, but got out early on good behavior, so now I’m back. The place sure has changed since I’ve been gone. Why are there so many potholes in the Rock Bottom roads and what’s with all them new road signs? Plus, I’m seeing a lot more women walking the streets than I used to see. What’s going on?—Pa Rolled

Dear Pa: What you are seeing is the effects of the highway department’s “Rescue a Road” program wherein former litterers now pass theirselves off as responsible citizens by picking up the litter they threw down months earlier. They get their names painted on signs which consequently block the views of what little bit of scenery Rock Bottom used to have, provide new places for wandering dawgs to lift their legs, and give the Rock Bottom Road-Hunters more places for target practice. Since the signs cost the highway department plenty to put up and maintain, there ain’t money left to fix the roads.

Mavis Peabody started the whole road rescue thing in Rock Bottom when a friend of hers bragged about how she got recognition for allegedly cleaning up a road that nobody ever littered in the first place. Mavis, who figured having her name painted on a sign is a lot classier than having it wrote on a bathroom wall, signed up to pick up trash along the cleanest road in Rock Bottom. The road she picked is halfway between two fast food eateries, so along this particular stretch, folks have already thrown out their trash from the first place and won’t have any more trash to throw out until they get to the second place. Mostly Mavis just sashays along the road with her designer litter bag and tries to look busy.

When Glorie-Hallie Looyah, wife of Rev. Al E. Looyah of the Rock Bottom Church of the Surging Inner Spirit, got wind of what Mavis was doing, she didn’t want to be upstaged. Glorie-Hallie has a certain reputation to maintain, so she convinced the Surging Sisters of Sunshine that they ought to walk the streets to see what they could pick up, too. Of course, Mavis had already got the best street, so the Surging Sisters had to make do with what was left.
When the Surging Sisters realized folks might see them bend over and pick up trash, they signed up for the “Sags ’n’ Bags” class at Rock Bottom Fitness Center to get their saggy parts perked up. Then they had to buy special exercise outfits with shoes to match. (I know all about this because after each class they have to come in to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait shop and get their hair-dos redone because all that sweating and grunting and shaking and shimmying can really do a number on a hair-do, regardless of whether it is done in the gym or behind closed doors or right out on the street.) Finally, they decided to get new outfits to wear during the actual pick-up process, and they had to color coordinate with each other so they didn’t clash.

Well, it turns out that—what with all the shopping, exercising, coordinating, and hair re-doing—they don’t have time or energy to actually do any picking up, but they still walk the streets so folks can admire their outfits, toned-up bodies, and hair-dos. As Glorie-Hallie explained when she was getting her legs waxed the other day, “Doing good deeds ain’t important; having folks think you are doing good deeds is what actually counts.” She was about to say more when I ripped off a big piece of wax and leg hair, and she commenced to screaming and cussing, which kind of derailed her train of thought.

Well, that’s it for another go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. However, my new book, More Peevish Advice, is available, but you will have to cough up some cash for it or whip out some plastic. It’s the perfect gift to give to folks you don’t like but are obligated to give a gift to, and you will want to buy a copy to put in your guest room so maybe your unwanted guests will take the hint.

***

Cheese Curls, Betting, & Short LIfe

2008-04-24T15:51:00.004-04:00

This was originally published on May 16, 2007

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where we are starting our Pre-season Bikini Wax Special. If you get it done now, the scars will have healed by the time bathing suit season is officially here. Plus most folks won’t have opened their windows yet, so not many will hear your screams. Now, lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My wife has a real classy desk job and makes enough money to keep me in beer and cheese curls, pay the cable TV bill, and put gas in my pick-up, so I ain’t complaining. However, all those years of setting in a chair have caused her to get kinda broad in the beam. How can I tactfully suggest that she get herself back the way she used to be before I succumb to the temptations offered by the woman down the road?—Big Bun Watcher

Dear BBW: Before you speak up to suggest, you got to be sure that you are still the way you used to be, else you got no room to complain. If you do speak up, keep in mind there ain’t no tactful way, so be prepared to duck, move out, buy some lavish presents, or a combination thereof. If your wife don’t run you off, you had best not let your eyes stray beyond your property line if you know what’s good for you.

Dear Ida b. Is there anything new to do in Rock Bottom or is everybody gonna just stand around like usual and bet on what color the stoplight will turn next.—Bored

Dear Bored: You are in luck. O.L. Buzzard, of Buzzard’s Taxidermy, Tanning Salon, and Day Care is branching out into new a new business: Rock Bottom Community Center Extension at Buzzard’s. He is offering a bunch of classes, some of which might appeal to you if you ain’t too picky or are desperate for something to do.

Buzzard says the human form drawing class is now full, since the new instructor Heddy Lamoure also is the model. The “I Want To Be Your Friend” anger management class has had to institute a few rules. For example, Buzzard don't care if you do have a “concealed and carry” permit, he says no hand guns in class unless he is the one carrying. The redneck yoga class (you can wear long camo johns instead of tights and use the bedliner from your pick-up instead of them sissified mats), features new body positions and is also instructed by Heddy. (Buzzard wants to thank Heddy for making this center so profitable after Bunhilder, the prior instructor, left for a new position at the Elsewhere Fitness Salon, location unknown.)

Two other classes sure to be popular are the “Ancient Art of Tattoo” by an ex-basketball star now doing community service and “Greener Vehicles Through Do-It-Yourself Camo Painting,” using easily available spray cans from your local hardware and gun shop. The “Advanced Deer Hunting Techniques,” which the game warden raided, has now been reinstated, after growing crops in certain locations was been found to be good crop rotation and not baiting as the game warden previously said.

Anyhow, Buzzard says to come in and sign up. If you sign up for two or more classes, he will give you a substantial discount on any roadkill you bring in to have stuffed and mounted in exciting actions poses. He regrets that this offer will not apply to skunks for obvious reasons.

Dear Ida B. I heard that a big paper in DC has a “Life Is Short” contest and they pay money for essays about something in your life. Does the Rock Bottom News do that —A Reader

Dear Reader. No, but the Rock Bottom News has a “Life’s Too Short” section wherein they print whatever is on people’s minds as long as it ain’t much and there’s extra space in the paper that needs to be filled. Here’s a couple of them:

“Some items of social gaucherie still make one's ears burn at the awful recollection. When I was in 5th grade, I crashed a birthday party. The class beauty, Lillian, invited everyone but me, and I assumed (fatal word) I was included. So I showed up, not bearing a present, yet was graciously welcomed by her mom. All of a sudden, during a game of Pin-tail-on-the donkey, it hit me, and I slunk out the door without even a goodbye to the hostess. Eeeeyowww! I can feel the shame to this day.”—Claude Hopper

“My philosophy of education is this: Give to each child within your care all the neuroses the child can bear. I find this stimulates their minds so they get twitchy when I approach them. Giving them an eye that radiates a little madness fills them with doubt as to their safety. Just keep the neuroses bubbling, and they’ll march to any tunes you whistle. 'Course, they don’t learn much, but the teacher finds he/she can relax after school better.”— Elmer Glutch (English teacher for 35 years at Beanblossom High in Gnawbone, Indiana)

“Can a person declare his own junk to be junk? Walken D. Rhodes went ballistic when he took a stroll down by Anne Teek’s House of Usable Stuff and spotted his old lawn chairs! Says he tossed them out at the dumpster and they didn’t quite make it in, but he figured his intentions were obvious. When he asked Anne, she declared she acquired the property from Lana DeFill who manages Rock Bottom Re-cycling Systems (Motto: “Your trash is our profit.”). Mr. Rhodes, claiming he’d never relinquished title to his discards, proceeded to rearrange those chairs in the deck of his pick-up and told Anne he was gonna make another stab at sinking them in the dumpster for good. Rumor has it that his pick-up was closely followed by the Rock Bottom Recycling System van as he pulled away from Anne’s shop.”—Mavis Peabody

Well, that’s it for another go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. However, my new book, More Peevish Advice, is out and you will have to cough up some cash for it. (Thanks to DR, FF, AW, and EW for this week’s inspiration.)

***

Celebrities, Working Wives, & Wild Gals

2008-04-16T10:25:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared on May 2, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where things are warming up, and men are coming out of their recliners and venturing out. If they’d just remember to wipe their feet before they come back in, their wives would be happier. Now, lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. About couple weeks ago some gal wrote you and said she wanted to be a big celebrity like Paris Hilton. Don’t she know that them celebrities never get a bit of privacy. Everywhere they go, folks is always taking pictures of them. Them popper-ratsies stick their camera right up in celebrity faces (and other places, if you recollect that embarrassing picture of Britney). Why would anybody want to put up with that? Ida B., you are the biggest celebrity in town. Has anything like this ever happened to you? If so, how did you handle it?—Values Her Privacy

Dear VP: This only happened one time. I had just got off the bus after returning from the annual Southern Hair Extravaganza up at the state capital when some out-of-towner looked at my new retro sequined bee-hive hair-do and said, “Nobody back home will believe this! I gotta get a picture!” Well, that feller stuck his little camera-phone only inches from my hair. I grabbed his wrist before he could knock more than a half-dozen sequins off and wrestled that phone away from him. Fortunately I was wearing a mini-skirt which allowed me to raise my stiletto-clad foot to the right height to kick him in a place so he’d remember not to ever mess with me again. While he was doubled over, I was able to put his phone where it deserved to be. I understand it took Dr. Derry Ayers up at the Rock Bottom Institute of Proctology most of the afternoon to remove the phone. I doubt that guy will tell anybody back home about this. Even if he did, I doubt they’d wouldn’t believe him.

Dear Ida B. My wife wants to quit her job and stay home. She says she started working to pay for the kids’ education, but since they all took after me there ain’t no sense wasting money on ’em when the state can educate ’em while they’re incarcerated. I tell her we need her to keep working on account we need the money for groceries, the light bill, insurance, and occasional repairs to the doublewide. She says it ain’t fair that I stay home and she has to go out and work. I’ve tried to explain to her about my jobs—I’m a free-lance hunting/fishing adviser in season, a restorer of junk (I mean antique) cars, and a landscaper when I can borrow my buddy’s bull-dozer and/or chainsaw—and I am often paid in beverages or other compensation instead of actual cash. Also, when I am consulting about fishing with some of the younger women who often wear their bathing suits so they won’t get their good clothes messed up, my wife just wouldn’t understand if she happened to walk in and see me with my arms around the client while I try to show her the right way to hold the pole. (Before we head to Slick Water Lake for the real action, me and the client generally practice in the bedroom of my doublewide where there is a big enough mirror so the client can see her position.) Also, we really need the insurance because I have had several work-related accidents, the latest being when I was chainsawing down a tree to get a clear shot from my deerstand in a neighboring tree when the property owner surprised me causing me to drop the running chainsaw on my foot and get tangled in a barbed wire fence as I tried to get away before he opened fire with his 30-06, which he did anyhow, but luckily he didn’t hit any vital organs although I did need several stitches in various parts of my body. Let me tell you, Ida B., it ain’t cheap if you have visit the emergency room of a Sunday and take pot-luck with whatever doctor is on call. Anyhow, you can see how my wife has got to keep working. At the office where she works, she meets all them Slick Water Lake women whose husbands support them, and it has give her some uppity ideas. What can you offer in the way of advice?—Kinda Hurt by her Attitude

Dear Worthless Sponger: My advice for you is to take some responsibility and get a real job. I advise your wife to see my dee-vorce lawyer, Maycomb Philmore Payne. He can help her more than I can.

Dear Ida B. I been reading about them “Gals Gone Wild” videos and how some feller is making a pile of money on college gals partying real hearty. Wanting to get in on the action, I sold my wife’s car (she’s visiting her sister and won’t be back for two weeks) and bought me one of them cameocorders. I went out to Rock Bottom Community College and Agrarian Science School to see what I could get, and they was all on spring break. Then I went out to Slick Water Lake hoping to catch some gals skinny-dipping, but it was too cold and some gal on a jet ski slung water all over me. Then I took to roaming around Rock Bottom, but the only shots I could get were of fat women doing yardwork, and I don’t think anybody will pay to see that. I’ve heard your manicurist is good for some action. Do you think she’ll let me make her a star?—Lights, Camera, Action!

Dear Ready for Trouble: My manicurist, Honey Sue Sweetwater, says to tell you that if you try to interrupt her while she is giving a customer her undivided attention, you will see more action than you bargained for. The action will include—but not be limited to—her punching your lights out and tossing your camcorder into the bait tank that is currently filled with crawdads, some personal attention from her foot-long nail file that has a real sharp point on the end, and the ridicule of my customers, all of whom will be cheering for Honey Sue. One of them just might be your wife, who planned to sneak back early to surprise you, and she ain’t gonna be happy to learn you sold her car.

Well, that’s it for another go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. However, my new book, More Peevish Advice ought to be out in about a month and you will have to cough up some cash for it. [UPDATE: It's here!]

The Problems with Some Men

2008-04-07T13:07:00.005-04:00

This column originally appeared in the April 18, 2007, edition of the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop where Spring has sprung, the pollen count is high and everybody is sniffling and sneezing. If you need a new look to complement your red nose, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and we’ll see what we can do. We do have in our extra heavy duty hair spray, so now matter how hard you sneeze, your hair will stay in place. Now, lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. My English class is studying MacBeth and I can’t make head nor tails of it again this year. It don’t make much sense and all the characters talk funny. Can you help? —Senior again

Dear Repeater: You are in luck. That is one of my favorite plays because it shows just how important it is for a woman to nag her husband in the proper way. Plus all stupid men are killed off in the end, which is a good lesson for them.

Now, as I recall, the play starts after a bunch of guys won a battle commanded by King Duncan. Back in those days, kings got right into the thick of the action instead of riding around in limos and stuff. One of the heroes was named MacBeth, which is a sissy name, so let’s call him Mac. Him and his buddy Banquo (another stupid name, so let’s call him Bubba) are riding around after a big battle and carrying on like men will do after they win something big, when they come upon three ugly women. Mac and Bubba think the gals are witches because they talk and act funny, but could be the women was just under the influence of something and they looked bad because Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop did not exist at that time. Anyhow, since they aren’t good-looking, Mac and Bubba didn’t fool around with them. They got to talking, and these strange women tell Mac he’ll be Thane of Cawdor, which was a big deal back then, and then he’ll be king. Well, Mac doesn’t quite believe this, but he plays along. They tell Bubba he won’t be any big shot but he’ll beget kings, so at least his boys will be well-fixed and might look after him in his old age. It turns out that King Duncan does let Mac be Thane of Cawdor as a reward for winning (and since the previous thane was conveniently dead).

Now, since Mac is obligated, Duncan decides to spend the night at Mac’s castle rather than have to pay to stay somewhere else. That’s where all the problems start, as many of y’all know who has had unexpected company pop in. Mac’s wife (who doesn’t seem to have a first name) decides that if her hubby kills Duncan, he can jump the line to become king (which means she’ll be queen, another incentive for poor hospitality on her part), so they decide to do that.
Getting Duncan’s guards drunk is the easy part, because they probably didn’t get many perks being bodyguards and would welcome any six-packs handed their way, especially by a real friendly-acting lady. It takes a good bit of nagging on Lady Mac’s part—she was ready to kill Duncan herself if she had to—but she finally gets Mac to stab him. If they had thought about it, poisoning would have left a lot less evidence (like blood all over the place) and would have looked considerably less suspicious. When she tells Mac to screw his courage, she’s really saying, “Stop being such a wimp and kill off the old buzzard!” instead of something off-color.

Anyhow, after Mac stabs Duncan, Mac goes kinda nuts, hearing voices and all, which makes you wonder what he’s under the influence of. He’s so out of it that he can’t even put the blood-covered daggers beside the passed-out guards, so Lady Mac has to do it for him. (Now some of y’all women can identify with this. Your hubby can probably gut a fish just fine, but can he remember to clean up the sink afterwards or throw away the discarded fish parts? No, you got to go clean up after him. What is it with men anyway that they don’t finish what they start?)
Anyhow, the Macs might have got away with what they did if somebody hadn’t started knocking real loud on the front door. The weather was getting bad, so they had to let in the knockers, which turned out to be MacDuff and Lennox, who just happened to be in the neighborhood on such a stormy night and who just happened to want to see their buddy Duncan right now. Mac does his best to act surprised to find Duncan dead and stabs the guards for killing Duncan, which we know they didn’t do. However, this did spare them a bad-hangover the next morning.

Naturally Mac gets to be king and ought to live happily ever after, but some men just can’t accept responsibility, and Mac is one. He goes completely nuts. So does his wife, who sleepwalks all over the castle and finally kills herself, which is a shame because she was the one with good sense. It is also a shame that Dr. Phil didn’t exist in those days because he could have set her straight or at least got her into a good counseling program.

Without a wife to keep him in line, Mac starts killing folks right and left, including Bubba’s kids, but one gets away. Then a whole bunch of other folks get killed, including MacDuff’s family, which really sets MacDuff off. Mac consults the witches again and he thinks they give him good news, but you just can’t trust women who don’t get their hair done on a regular basis.
Anyhow, MacDuff’s buddies disguise themselves as shrubbery and sneak up on Mac’s castle. If Mac’s wife had been alive, she could have pointed out that landscaping don’t change of its own accord, but Mac is so dumb that he don’t realize what is happening. The gals with bad hair told him he wouldn’t be killed by a man born of woman, so—not being clued in to obstetrics (like he would be in he hung around Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop when some of the customers are discussing the grittier points of giving birth)—he figures he is safe. Turns out MacDuff’s mama had a C-section, so she technically didn’t give birth. When Mac hears this, he kinda loses his focus and MacDuff hacks off his head. Since Mac already lost what little good sense he had, losing his head is kind of superfluous. With most of the characters dead, the good thing is that there won’t be a sequel.

One thing you can count on with Shakespeare is that in his tragedies everybody ends up either dead or disappointed, which is kinda the way life is in Rock Bottom. However, if you get your hair done at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Life Bait Shop, you will be happy about that for a while.

Well, that’s it for another go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Paris Hilton, Diapers, & Anger Management

2008-03-27T16:15:00.000-04:00

This column originally appeared in the April 4, 2007, edition of The Smith Mountain Eagle.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop where our April Fool’s Day special has expired. However, since a lot of Rock Bottomites have foolish tendencies year-round, I don’t guess it much matters. Now, lessee what foolishness we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B: See, I need to get a job. I been living with my parents in their singlewide, which gets kinda cramped at times, since I took my GED 'cause school was SO boring. What I'd really like to do is get the kinda job that Paris Hilton has. I can get you to bleach my hair (right now, I have these totally cool blue streaks in it) and get bright blue contacts. I'm not as skinny as Paris Hilton, but I can hold a cellphone up to my ear, look sideways, and carry my dog in a big canvas bag. (It would have to be awful big, since my dog keeps growing.) Somebody told me that Paris gets paid millions of dollars just to show up at some bar opening, since the media go crazy to take her picture and mention that she showed up. That's ALL she has to do! Just show up, smile, look sideways, and talk on her cellphone. How cool a job is THAT? So, where do I apply?—Pearis(burg) Motel 6

Dear P-burg: This is not a real good vocational choice for several reasons. For one thing, you got to live in a big city to do this job effectively. In Rock Bottom, nobody will notice if I bleach your hair, since a high percentage of the Rock Bottom women sport bleached hair themselves. (Note: a lot of them have sworn me to secrecy about it.) Toting a dog ain’t worthy of notice here. Quite a few Rock Bottomites tote around several species of both domestic animals and livestock, since bringing them in to the vet clinic is a darn sight cheaper than having a vet make house call, and nobody gives them a second look. All the kids at rock Bottom High have cellphones against their ears, and nobody can figure out why, since Rock Bottom don’t even have cellphone service. We don’t need it because the town is so small all you got to do is holler and somebody will hear you. Also, Paris Hilton is from one of those big-time hotel families which means she is not only rich plus she can stay free in just about any city since her daddy owns the hotels there. Naturally other folks want to be friends with her in case some of that money rubs off, or at least so they can carry away some of those little motel soaps whenever they get a chance. Now, if you want to get paid for attending a bar opening, there are a couple on the outskirts of Rock Bottom that might be interested if you are skilled at pole-dancing. They don’t pay much, but the manager of one (who would not give his name) said you get to meet lots of interesting and friendly people and lots of them would take pictures of you, but he wanted to make sure you were at least 18 because he can’t afford to get shut down again. All you have to do is show up when the bar opens every night and start dancing.

Dear Ida B: Can y'all tell me where I can buy some of those NASA 900-mile diapers? My Great Aunt Sally Annabelle Lee shore could use a supply. She likes to drive to the Dollar Store and then go out with her lady friends for a lunch, then go grocery shopping. Well, these days, she's had to figure out where all the restrooms are located, the ones with no lines waiting. Thanks for your help!—Bubba

Dear Bubba: It is highly unlikely that your elderly aunt covers 900-miles in a day. You could probably get by with getting her some of the 50-milers, although her mileage may vary. If she’s having trouble finding restrooms, you might want to get her some glasses so she can read the signs. Or, you might consider buying a porta-pottie and installing it in the bed of her pick-up truck. For what works best in her situation, it all depends.

Dear Ida B. After I lost my cool and punched another hole all the way through the doublewide again, my current wife said I’d have to go get counseling or she’d get a dee-vorce. I can’t afford to pay alimony to another ex, so I went. The counselor told me I had to channel my anger. Well, Ida B., I looked all through the TV section and I couldn’t find the anger channel. Is it one of them pay-per-view ones?—Good Ol’ Boy

Dear GOB: You might say that. At least you’re gonna pay plenty if your wife ever talks to my dee-vorce lawyer, Maycomb Philmore Payne. It you don’t shape up, I’m gonna give her his phone number (I get a kick-back on referrals) the next time she comes in for her shampoo and set. Now if you need an outlet to work off your aggression and you really need to punch something, Rosie Bunz down at the Rock Bottom Bakery and Tanning Salon says you can come in and punch down the bread dough after it’s risen the first time. She’s been breaking too many fingernails when she does it and customers have complained about the crunchy things in the bread. She doesn’t think they’ll believe her much longer when she tells them it’s added fiber, so you can provide a needed service. This can be a win-win situation for both of you.

Well, that’s it for another go-round. (Thanks to MH for the inspiration!) Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

Frazzled, Messy, & Silent

2008-03-20T12:57:00.001-04:00

Starting with this entry, I will post previous columns that appeared in the Smith Mountain Eagle. I figure if I wait long enough, I won't be competing with myself. This one, for instance, originally appeared in March 21, 2007.

Howdy, Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, located in the heart of downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, where Spring begins today, which means you can’t blame your bad hair on a tight-fitting sock cap anymore, so you’d best make an appointment at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop for our Spring Special. We have had some problems with Daylight Savings Time messing up our appointment schedule. A lot of folks were real hesitant about making early morning appointments because they’d have to leave here before daylight and it would still be too dark for other folks to see how good they looked. Now, lessee what we got in the mail:

Dear Ida B. Now that both sets of twins and the triplets are in school, I am having a real hard time getting everybody bathed and dressed, their hair combed and their beds made in the morning. Dishwashing and laundry are more than I can handle. Also, the kids are all fussing at me to take them somewhere fun in the evenings. I am at my wit’s end. What do you suggest?—Worn to a Frazzle

Dear Frazzle: The key is to prioritize and organize. First thing, if all the kids get buzz cuts, you will not have to worry about combing hair. We are currently running our “Britney Buzz-Cut” special down here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop, and we do offer group rates. Don’t worry if your kids are hyperactive and you think they won’t sit still for haircuts. We just duct-tape them all to the wall and pass down the line with our clippers. All you have to do for maintenance is bring them in every other week to let us refresh the cuts. We can do the refreshing in about 5 minutes since we have high speed clippers and industrial strength duct tape.

As for getting them dressed, declare that the family uniform is now sweat pants and sweatshirts. A set of sweats works nicely for play, school, and sleeping. Baring accidents, they shouldn’t have to change clothes more than every four or five days. You can solve the bathing and the something-to-do problem by signing up the whole family for twice-a-week swimming lessons down at the Rock Bottom YMCA. While the kids are in the pool (getting clean as well as learning a useful skill), you gather up all the sweat suits and head for the Rock Bottom Laundry-Matic & Entertainment Center, where you can sit in a recliner and watch you clothes get clean in the big-screen washers and driers. About the time the kids are getting out of the pool, you’ll be back all rested up with their clean sweats.

As for making beds, this is a waste of time with kids. They don’t care about made-up beds. Issue each kid a sleeping bag. Tell them they are to sleep on top of the bedspread, not between the sheets. In the morning, just throw the sleeping bag under the bed and smooth out the bedspread a little. If you’re lucky, the kids will want to sleep on the floor. Weather permitting, you might get them to sleep outside if you call it “camping.” (Don’t forget to lock the door once they’re outside. Kids have a way of sneaking back in.)

I find it hard to believe that your kids eat off dishes. Kids like finger foods and fast food. For happier meals for both them and you, just hand each kid a bag with his or her dinner in it. They will think you got them fast food. For stuff you can’t just hand them, think paper plates—but only for special occasions.

Dear Ida B. Now that spring is here, my singlewide is seriously in need of some spring cleaning. My current husband Bubba has hardly left his recliner for more than a few minutes since Thanksgiving. Consequently, there is a lot of debris in the vicinity of his recliner. Plus there are all those times his spit cup wasn’t exactly where he thought it was. I think I can get him out the door now that fishing season is underway, but how do I get the place cleaned quickly and cheaply while he’s out on the lake?—In a Mess

Dear Messy: Since you live in a singlewide, you have an option that the average homeowner doesn’t have, so I suggest you take advantage of it. First open the window in one end of your singlewide. Then back your truck up to the window. Get several of your muscular relatives to come over and tip your singlewide so that all the debris goes out the window and into the truck’s bed. If they aren’t strong enough to lift it, odds are good that several of them have jacks that can do the job. After the debris is in the truck, you can haul it off to the dump. When you get back home and all the witnesses are gone, call the fire department and report a fire in your dwelling. As soon as you see them coming up your road, build a fire in the space where the recliner was. (Timing is crucial here. If you start the fire too soon, you risk burning up everything; if you start it as they’re coming in the door, you might face legal action.) Anyhow, if you’ve planned correctly, the fire department will turn on the hose and your domicile will be washed clean. Odds are good, though, when your hubby comes in with his mess of fish for you to clean, that he won’t even notice. Men are like that.

Dear Ida B. I was over to the high school the other day to pick up Jethro, Jr., for his early-morning court appearance, and while I was waiting for them to find him, I heard an announcement on the intercom that there’d be a moment of silence and we’d all have to be quiet. Well, we done that. I heard a lot of school have silent minutes now. What I want to know is, how does that work in a class for the deaf?—Jethro, Sr.

Dear JS: I’m not sure, but could be they just can’t make any gestures. At least not any loud ones.

Well, that’s it for this go-round. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.

The Book Tour Begins

2007-07-06T13:09:00.000-04:00

Looks like the book tour is underway—three places are on schedule. For those of you with absolutely nothing else to do, come on down:

Wednesday, July 11, 2–4 p.m.
The Daily Grind
Rocky Mount, VA

Saturday, July 21, 10 a.m.–2 p.m.
Cottage Curio
622 Colorado Street
Salem, VA

Saturday, July 28, 10–2 p.m.
The General Store
Westlake, VA

Coming soon. . .

2007-06-08T16:51:00.001-04:00

Public Appearance

2007-06-05T06:40:00.000-04:00

Fellow Lake Writer Sally Roseveare snapped this photo of me when I appeared at the Smith Mountain Eagle's open house.

I think she captured the real Ida B.

More Peevish Advice?

2007-04-06T17:18:00.000-04:00

My manuscript, More Peevish Advice, has been sent to Infinity Publishing. By June, I should have my proof copy. After I make corrections, the book should be ready by mid-July.

I sent Infinity this cover shot, which Jeff Reid took last summer and which the Smith Mountain Eagle is graciously letting me use for the cover shot. It'll be interesting to see how Infinity's artist will incorporate it into the cover.

Watch this space for where you can buy More Peevish Advice and where I'll—er, Ida B. Peevish—will make appearances.

Merry Christmas from Ida B.

2006-12-16T11:53:00.000-05:00

Everybody down here at Ida's Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop in downtown Rock Bottom, US of A, wishes all y'all a Merry Christmas.

And for those of y'all what was looking for my new book in time for Christmas giving, I have sent the manuscript to a down-home Southern publisher, and I am still waiting to see if they will accept it. Y'all will just have to make do with the old book, Peevish Advice, for a while longer. (If it's been a while since you read it, you have probaby forgot most of what's in it anyhow, so you might as well read it again.

Remember, if y'all are looking for the perfect gift to give somebody you can't stand, Peevish Advice fills the bill. Or the stocking. or whatever.

What is "Peevish Advice"?

2006-05-18T11:01:00.000-04:00

In July 1998 Ida B. Peevish, the often dee-vorced proprietress of Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait Shop (located in the little town of Rock Bottom, US of A.), popped into my head and onto the pages of the print edition of Blue Ridge Traditions. At that time, Jeff Foxworthy and redneck humor were hot. So were advice givers—Dr. Laura, et al. Female humorous redneck advice-givers, however, were few and far between. Hence, Ida B. Peevish and “Peevish Advice” filled a gap. "Peevish Advice" now appears every other week in the Smith Mountain Eagle.

Ida B. Peevish has plenty of opinions about such diverse subjects as love, education, fashion, etiquette, religion, politics, and home décor. She is always glad to enlighten the dim ones. As Ida B. always says, “You get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free.” Of course, if you want your advice in a published format, the book Peevish Advice (ISBN 0-7414-0729-9), a compilation of the first three years of the column, will set you back $10.95. It makes a real good gift for folks you don’t like but are obligated to buy a present for anyhow.

Rock Bottom is a hard place to find on a map—it’s located where two folds on the map come together, so it’s the first place to wear off. Not far from Rock Bottom is Slick Water Lake, which formed when farm run-off filled one of the numerous sinkholes in the region and is inhabited by yankees who thought they were getting a good deal on worn-out land that nobody wanted. Most of the other inhabitants of rock bottom are agrarian professionsals. Rock Bottom isn’t like Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon, “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” In Rock Bottom, all the men are wrong, all the women are good at cooking, and the kids—bless their little hearts—try real hard, but heredity and environment can be powerful forces to overcome.

At first I made up most of the letters to Ida B. Then writer buddies of mine started to ask for advice. Lately, I only have to do about half the writing I used to do. Here’s a little sampling of “Peevish Advice,” most of which has either been published in Blue Ridge Traditions or broadcast on www.ferrumradio.com or both. Without further adieu, here’s Ida B. Peevish:

Peevish Advice Sample

Howdy! Ida B. Peevish coming at you from Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait Shop in the heart of Rock Bottom, US of A, where things are pretty well froze over so nobody wants to go out. Consequently, we got plenty of openings for those of y’all what need hair work done. We also got plenty of bait that’ll be fine once it thaws out. Please note that if you are finding it difficult to buy that special Valentine’s gift for your sweetie, you can’t go wrong with a gift certificate from Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait Shop. We are running a variety of specials this month, mainly to get rid of all the hairspray that froze during the last power outage. We ain’t got a lot of letters lately, but that is understandable on account it has been so cold that most folks won’t risk chapping their lips by licking a stamp. Anyhow, here’s what we got (to make it easy for y’all, I have grouped my advice by topics):

Education

Dear Ida B. I am an English teacher who is desperate to get her students to read the classics. All they do is open the book, say “Boooring!” and throw the book on the floor. What should I do? —Literature Lover

Dear Lit Lover: Well, first thing, you ought to be grateful they ain’t throwing the book at you. Next thing, do what they did at Rock Bottom High School. Order a set of the Down-Home Dumbed-Down Classics, which are wrote in a much more interesting manner.

For instance, the opening of that book “Tale of Two Cities” is just plain boring. You’d have a dickens of a time getting into “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” What the heck does that mean? The DHDD Classics version, which is called “Between a Rock and a Hard Place,” starts out: “Sidney, as I done tole you, things is bad but they gonna git better once we git the roof outta that thar tree and tack it back on the doublewide, once Paw gits outta jail and rebuilds his still what the law busted up, and once them thar nice folks from Publisher's Clearinghouse figgers out how to git across the crick whar the bridge washted out in t'last flood so they can give us a big check.”

Now an opener like that can take a story somewhere!

You take how “Moby Dick” starts out: “Call me Ishmael.” Now, how interesting is that? It don’t tell the reader nothing. You just know everything is gonna be downhill from that opening. The DHDD Classics version, which is called, “A Big Fish Story,” starts like this: "I was named for my great granddaddy, whose full name was Abraham Alphonse Irving Emmet Ishmael McGillicuddy—and don't you know we had a heckuva time getting all that on his tombstone, which explains why he has the doublewide stone—but since it looks like we're gonna be sharing this cell for a long time, you can just call me Ishmael."

See? Isn't that a whale of a lot better? You just know the story is gonna get even more interesting.
Dear Ida B. I am thinking about attending Rock Bottom Community College next year to major in cosmetology and fishing so I can be just like you. I guess I will minor in psychology and philosophy, too. However, I have heard that Rock Bottom Community College is cutting some of its programs. Is this true, Ida B? Please advise. —High School Senior

Dear Smart Cookie: I checked with Matt Triculate, dean of RBCC, who told me that RBCC is indeed cutting back on some of its less popular/more expensive offerings. (Note: Matt is affectionately called “Tricks” by the students, so if anyone in Rock Bottom asks, “How’s tricks?” they are inquiring as to Matt’s health.) He says that RBCC will no longer be “liberal arts”; it is downsizing to “conservative crafts.”

For example, he says they are getting rid of all math classes because anybody who wants to do math can just use a calculator. Algebra is just too hard, so no students sign up for it, plus there ain’t no algebra jobs to be found in Rock Bottom.

English will no longer be offered on account of everybody already speaks it. Foreign languages ain’t necessary, since no foreigners ever come to Rock Bottom and if they did, nobody would talk to them anyhow because we tend not to associate with folks what ain’t from here and/or who we ain’t kin to.

Cosmetology, being a popular class since everybody wants good hair, is staying. Ditto for Fishing Practicum, which is the most popular physical education class on account it don’t require an expensive gymnasium, don’t require much physical activity, don’t require cheerleaders, and only goes into overtime when the fish ain’t biting.

The Law Enforcement program has been dropped because a lot of students found that it caused a conflict in family values when they graduated, got a job, and had to arrest kinfolk. Also dropped is Distillation Arts, one of the most popular classes that many students would deliberately flunk just to take it again. When the instructor is paroled, it might be offered again.

The only philosophy class left is NASCAR Appreciation, a real popular class wherein the students mainly sit around and speculate on who is going to win the next race and why. This is what they’d most likely do anyhow, so RBCC decided why not make a little money off it. There has been some talk of offering Automotive Reincarnation, so folks will learn creative uses and practical applications for all the junk car parts they got cluttering up their yards, but the college ain’t found an add-junk faculty member to teach it yet.

Psychology has been dropped since it is mainly common sense, and all you got to know to succeed as a psychologist is how to say, “And how do you feel about that?” of “How is that working for you?”

There ain’t no sociology classes left since nobody could ever figure out what “sociology” was anyway, and students can socialize on their own time without the school having to provide a room and pay a light bill for it.

Some of the hands-on classes—mostly in the agrarian science department where every hand is needed to shovel—are intact. Enrollment is really piling up in those classes. However, another popular class, the figure drawing art class has been discontinued on account too many students told the instructor they couldn’t see good and that’s why they had to put their hands all over the models, which made it hard to find enough models to pose nekkid, especially during the winter term when students’ hands tend to be cold and the art studio is unheated which raised some concerns as well as chill bumps.

I am real thrilled you want to be just like me, but that will be hard to do since I am one of a kind. Most of my customers, as well as my readers, think one of me is plenty because they are all the time saying, “Ida B, you are too much!”

Dear Ida B. I went to a pep rally over at Rock Bottom High School, but the cheerleaders couldn’t get it together. What is going on? —Sports Fan

Dear Athletic Supporter: According to Rock Bottom High School Principal Alma Motter, political correctness forced them to change the cheer from “Fight, Team, Fight! Win With All Your Might! Fight, Fight, Fight!” to something that didn’t provoke violence, didn’t emphasize winning, and did encourage more kids to play so everybody would feel included. So they changed the cheer to “Participate, Students, Participate! Win or Lose, Accept your Fate. Whatever You Do, We Think You’re Great!” The cheerleaders are having trouble coordinating the shaking of various body parts to the words of the new cheer, but sooner or later they’ll get it together.

Dear Ida B. I understand that Rock Bottom High School didn’t have a good football season this year. What happened? —Out-of-Towner

Dear Outie: Somebody cut down the goalposts for kindling again, so the team couldn’t tell if they scored or not. Finally the Rock Bottom athletic supporters replaced the goalposts with a couple of deer stands. Since a lot of the games occurred during deer season, members of the Rock Bottom Road Hunters Association, most of which are major athletic supporters, decided that they could sit in the stands and help keep score while keeping their eyes peeled for any deer in the nearby woods. This was a win-win situation for just about everybody except the team who never got the ball anywhere near the stands without it getting shot up.

Dear Ida B. Some guy named Francis Bacon said something like, “Some books are to be tasted; others swallowed; and some to be chewed and digested.” I know you wrote a book. What category does it fall into? —Bookworm

Dear Wormy: Folks in Rock Bottom generally know better than to chow down on books. However, a few folks have told me that Peevish Advice ought to be coughed up and spit out. I don’t know this Bacon feller, but anybody named after hog meat probably ain’t qualified to discuss books.

Family Problems

Dear Ida B. I don’t know what to do with my kids. They keep going in and out all day long and letting flies in. They complain they’re bored. They keep after me to get them some interactive toys, like those computer games where the object is to see how many aliens you can kill. I think them games waste electricity. And I think them kids need to get some exercise. What do you think? What should I do? —At the End of my Rope

Dear Hanging On: You can solve your problem cheaply and easily. Buy each kid his or her own fly swatter. They can get exercise swatting the flies they let in. They can compete to see who kills the most. If that don’t keep them entertained, I don’t know what will. Plus it will save electricity on account you don’t need to plug the fly-swatters in.

Dear Ida B. I hear folks talk about using duct tape and plastic sheets for security purposes. Can you give me an example? —Into Security

Dear Insecure: Sure. Let’s say you got to take your rambunctious toddler to town and your hubby has got the transmission out of your car again and you have to use his truck what ain’t got a kiddie safety seat in it. All you got to do is take a dozen or so winds of duct tape around the kid and the truck seat, and that kid is securely restrained until you get where you are going. Secure the plastic sheet under the kid in case you can’t get him cut loose in time, especially if he’s the type kid who waits until the last minute to tell you he has to go.

Dear Ida B. My husband recently retired, and now that he is around the house all day, he is running me crazy with his demands. What should I do with the old coot? —Desperate

Dear Desperate: The best thing to do is run your vacuum cleaner as long as it takes to run him out of the house. Most men cannot take being vacuumed around for more than a few minutes. If he demands you get him a beer or make him a sandwich, just say “As soon as I finish vacuuming.” The trick is, don’t finish. Eventually he’ll get the idea and quite asking. If he approaches you with a gleam in his eye, I have it on good authority (from O. L. Buzzard of Buzzard’s Taxidermy & Day Care who was complaining about this very situation the other day) that nothing turns a man off like turning a vacuum cleaner on. Not only will you run off the old coot, you’ll have a cleaner house, too. But just in case the vacuuming don’t work—for instance if he is hard of hearing, you need to get out of the house yourself, so come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and take advantage of our Get That Man Right Outta Your Hair special.

Dear Ida B. My husband has gotten real inattentive lately when it comes to basic rules I have set down for him. How can I get him to wipe his feet, pick up his dirty clothes, take out the garbage, not leave the refrigerator door open for extended periods, change his underwear on a regular basis, let the dawg out, and put the lid down? —Desperate

Dear Desperate: We here at Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait shop have worked out a system that we call CARP, although it don’t have nothing to do with fishing. What it means is that your nagging has to be Continuous, Assertive, Repetitive, and Proactive. If you spend the next week or so CARPing at your husband—while continuously running your vacuum, you should either see improvement or he will give up and leave. (If he leaves, change the locks.) At any rate, by that time you will have a clean house but be worn to a frazzle, so come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait Shop to cheer yourself up by getting your hair fixed.

Dear Ida B. How does that old saying go about giving a man a fish? I can’t remember it. —Forgetful

Dear Senile: You must be thinking about “Give a man a fish and he’ll forget to put it in the refrigerator until it has stunk up the doublewide; teach a man to fish and he’ll have a good reason to come into Ida’s Salon of Beauty and Live Bait Shop and spend lots of money on bait. Plus, he’ll need to buy a boat, all sorts of rods and reels and other fishing doo-dads, a set of waders, a trailer to pull the boat with, a lake-front cottage, etc. Teach a man to fish and you will go a long way toward improving the economy.”

Beauty and Fashion Advice

Dear Ida B. I am getting married in an outdoor ceremony in November. What color wedding dress should I wear? — Bride-To-Be

Dear B2B: There are only two colors appropriate for November weddings: camo and blaze orange. The camo will make you fade into the background and possibly get you shot if your wedding takes place near the woods. Therefore, put your bridesmaids in camo and you wear blaze orange. That will make you stand out on your special day, plus you can go right from the reception to your deer stand and not have to change clothes first. Remember, if you have your bridal bouquet attached to your rifle, it is a good idea not to toss it into the crowd unless you first check to make sure you have the safety on.

Dear Ida B. Summer is over and I still haven’t got a tan. Do you have a tanning bed at Ida’s Salon of Beauty? —Pallid

Dear Pale Lids: We don’t have a tanning bed on account it takes up too much space and heats up the bait tank which causes some popular species of bait to get a little too crispy to appeal to the average fish. However, we do have a tanning tank. The water in Rock Bottom has a high iron content, so it tends to be a little on the rusty side. Hence, if you bathe in it long enough, you acquire a nice bronze glow. However, if you sit in our tank for a while, you should not go immediately to the airport. The last gal who did this set off all the metal detectors and got herself arrested and missed her flight, so she didn’t make her wedding to the man of her dreams who noticed that her maid of honor was kind of cute, so by the time the tanned gal got out of jail she had lost both a husband and a best friend. Then she had the nerve to demand her money back because I was busy giving advice to somebody else and forgot how long she was in the tank.

Decorating

Dear Ida B. What is with all these folks rearranging their houses? —Keeping Up

Dear Up-Keep: Mavis Peabody, who is always trying to be a trendsetter, had Dee Zyner, from the Rock Bottom House of Fung Shui & Cement Lawn Art up at the mall, redecorate her doublewide. The first thing Dee did was tell Mavis that all the “chi” was flowing out because her double wide faced the wrong way. Well, even though Mavis didn’t notice anything leaking out—and she wasn’t about to admit she didn’t have a clue what “chi” was, she got a bunch of her relatives over and they turned the doublewide about ninety degrees. Now the “chi” isn’t flowing out, but a lot of sewage is because the septic tank line ruptured during the rearrangement and Rock Bottom plumber Seymour Flushing is all backed up on account of all the pipes that froze and busted over the winter that he ain’t got around to fixing yet. (Note to customers on Mr. Flushing’s waiting list: He promises to get your pipes fixed in time for them to freeze over again next winter.) Consequently I can’t recommend rearranging your home, but if you want to rearrange your looks, come on down to Ida’s Salon of Beauty & Live Bait Shop and we’ll see what we can do.

Dear Ida B. I have just started driving and getting interested in girls. My grampaw keeps saying I have to take the bitter with the sweet. What does he mean?—Kid

Dear Kiddo: He means that all blessings are mixed blessings. For example, he might mean that the shady parking spot you find when you decide to park with some sweet young thing means that all the trees are full of birds that will decorate your windshield while you and your girl give each other your undivided attention. Or it might mean that the sweet girl you’ve been dating will soon turn bitter when you park under those trees and forget to put the roof up on your convertible.

Rural Etiquette

Dear Ida B. I wonder what your concerned advice would be regarding drivers with “Farm Use Only” cardboard plates and those with Rock Bottom stickers clearly emblazoned on their windshields who can’t figure out that a double yellow line means “Stay on your own side!”—Waiting in a Ditch

Dear Ditched: As our area is heavily populated by agrarian professionals, “farm use” describes most Rock Bottom vehicles, even them what ain’t roadworthy, as they make handy stock feeders, storage containers, and/or lawn decorations. As for your other concern, many Rock Bottom drivers have not yet determined what their side is and find that they are less likely to slip into a ditch if they take a middle-of-the road approach. If they meet another middle-of-the roader head on, they just stop for a spell and visit. It ain’t like anybody has got anywhere interesting to go around here.

Dear Ida B. I am an expatriated Northerner who recently re-rooted into the Slick Water Lake vicinity. I love the long views here of mountains and pastoral farmland but can’t believe that nearly every picturesque scene is obstructed or at least outlined by power poles, electric lines, phone lines, and cable. Back up north, all that linear junk went underground back in 1988. What’s the Rock Bottom viewpoint on obstructing the view and tranquility of an outstanding landscape with an ugly, environmentally hostile power grid.—In Need of Some Perspective

Dear Yankee: Most of Rock Bottom ain’t got no scenery worth lookin’ at, so all them things you mentioned sort of fill in for the scenery we ain’t got. Plus, a lot of Rock Bottomites consider electric lines strung on their property as a sign to all that they can afford electricity, so it is a status thing. The Rock Bottom Roadhunters Association finds that the lines make convenient places for birds to roost, so they don’t even have to get out of their trucks to get a good shot. And most folks here sleep good at night knowing that any furrin’ terrorists ain’t gonna parachute in without getting theirselves severely electrocuted, so all them wires also function as the Rock Bottom security network.

Well, that’s it for this little sample of “Peevish Advice.” I take you you didn’t get too offended by what you read or else you would have quit reading a couple minutes ago. Remember, you get what you pay for, talk is cheap, and my advice is free. However, should you want to pay for my advice, keep in mind that you can buy my book Peevish Advice from www.amazon.com or www.bn.com or www.buybooksontheweb.com or from assorted places in Rocky Mount and Smith Mountain Lake, VA.