Redneck Mommy is Tanis, a Canadian pie maker and tattooed gunslinger. She puts the Mmm in MILF. She’s the stuff dreams are made of- and I have the stains on my sheets to prove it. She looks great for forty.

It’s no coincidence that my interview with her falls on hump day. I planned that shit. I’m clever like that. Redneck Mommy thinks that sort of thing is hot, so I encourage her. She humors me.

My wife wants to scratch her eyes out understands.

Whit: Do you think I was too sexual in that opening? I didn’t even mention your mind or the fact that you’re a talented, funny writer with a great blog. I assume those things are true. In my defense I also didn’t mention your boobs. I’m calling it a wash.

RM: You were sexual in that opening? I was too distracted by the fact you mentioned I was forty to even notice. For the last damn time people, I am 33 years old. Born in 1975. I’m so getting a voodoo doll in Backpacking Dad’s (some other blogger that’s not me, which is kind of killing my buzz- Whit) image and sticking the pins in his gonad region (okay, my buzz is back).

Wait…was that too sexual? Cuz I was aiming for vitriolic with a touch of bitterness, just so we’re clear. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a great rack who has to constantly defend her age.

(See how I managed to slip in a boob reference? Don’t worry Whit, I’ve got the titty talk covered. It’s sorta my thing. It stems from years of being flat chested to suddenly waking up one morning and having marvelous mammaries.)

Whit: Were you still at the plastic surgeons at that point? And does Canadian socialism cover boob jobs?

RM: Whit, Whit, Whit…all of this majesty (she says as she points to herself) is completely 100 percent Canadian goodness. Who needs the charity of our beloved Canadian socialism when you sit on your arse all day, drinking Canadian beer, munching on homemade pie and twittering? It’s a secret combination that the boob fairy and plastic surgeons don’t want women to know about. It brings on a healthy glow and bestows big breasticles in the process.

Whit: My glow is more radioactive waste than healthy. I hope I still get breasticles.

Your internet handle is Redneck Mommy, what’s the story behind that name? I’ve seen the tattoos, there are many colors on your neck. What made you decide on red?

RM: Dude. I live in the middle of Butt-fark Alberta, Canada. The land where everyone has a gun rack mounted behind the curtains of their 4×4 truck and liberalism is a dirty word. In order to survive out here in the wilds I have to pretend I am one of them.

The reality is I am a city girl transplanted into an old school farming community and both my family and my husband’s family are very conservative. I am the black sheep, what with my insistence of wearing shoes in the kitchen and not being constantly pregnant. That and I have this annoying tendency to buck the trend and support social policies. Not that I admit that publicly. Not if I don’t want to be publicly flogged and then lynched.

When I decided to start blogging I thought it was hysterical to call myself a Redneck when I am so very opposite of what a Redneck is. I mean, to the best of my recollection I haven’t married my cousin and I still have all my teeth. If I was smart, I would have googled Redneck first. However, no one has ever accused me of being smart.

Whit: I believe it. So why did you start blogging? Did you notice a void that needed to be filled or did you just want to be on CNN?

RM: I just wanted to be on CNN. My next goal: Oprah, where I hope to actually sound less Redneck-y and more white trash-ish. I have this dream where I once again appear on international television and don’t yell into the camera “Quick! Pass the beer, y’all!” I hope to wow the Queen of Daytime Reality programming with my heaving C-cup bosom, inked and pierced skin while I look directly into the camera and tell the world I started blogging in hopes of becoming the next great World Leader. I figure with my charm and wit and her deep pockets, I could rule the internet. Or at least get more than 10 hits a day.

Maybe then my husband would actually believe me when I tell him I did something worthwhile that day other than scrubbing out the toilet.

Whit: When you say hits you’re talking about pot, right? Canada is awesome. By the way, your husband doesn’t appreciate you. I’d love to come home to a clean toilet but I never leave my house.

I’ve noticed that you’re always talking about shooting stuff- mostly coyotes. Do you expect Americans to believe that there are coyotes in Canada? Do you shoot them from a helicopter? Do they have helicopters up there? Shouldn’t you be shooting moose, or do you not traffic in politics?