I {heart} The South

E-mail this post

Remember me (?)

All personal information that you provide here will be governed by the Privacy Policy of Blogger.com. More...

I've fastideously claimed my East Coast roots. I absolutely adore the mid-atlantic. We're close to so much. Historic towns, major cities, prestigeous universities. I'll argue long and hard about it being the best place to live.

Where I live is pretty indifferent on the whole blue versus grey issue. We have a few that think they are southern and a few that are die hard northern. But for the most part you have people who don't care. (After all, we were a mixed state during the civil war.) You can tell I am a yankee. I talk fast. I drive like a maniac. I eat sushi.

But this week, I'm staying down south on business. I must say, I absolutely love it. The southern influences of both my parents and a dedicated friend are slowly appearing. Much to the chagrin of my sister when I get home, I am not fighting it.

My rental car for the week is a truck. I've taken great delight in driving with the windows rolled down and the country music cranked up. I smile at people. I sit patiently in traffic. I talk to strangers. I eat boiled peanuts and drink beer.

Don't worry. I haven't given up all my wretched ways. Just last night, per my warning, a forward McFucker got an open handed smack across the face. (When I say "don't touch me again or I'll slap you" I mean it.) But, to balance things out, I stopped to help a guy push his smoking and spewing car out of five o'clock traffic.

Despair not. I have yet to say fixin'.

Lest you think I am an absolute sham (which my southern accent is entirely) my grandparents were from Mississippi and my Daddy is from Virginia. I do live only a few miles north of the Mason-Dixon line.

I suppose all this is meant to say, I guess we all suprise ourselves.

5 Responses to “I {heart} The South”

  1. Anonymous joy 

    You can have the south, I'll be the token Northern bitch of the family, even if it is only by four blocks.

  2. Anonymous QOS 

    I'm so proud of you darling!

    Tonight would you grab a piece of cracklin' bread, crack open a Natty Lite and think of me?

  3. Anonymous Vulgar Wizard 

    *whispers that she says fixin'*

  4. Anonymous Vulgar Wizard 

    *shudders* ew, Natty Lite...

  5. Anonymous Porkchop 

    I didn't mean to confuse you! What I meant to say was that I got to slap a guy across the face, which I imagine, is just as satisfying as throwing a drink in his face.

Leave a Reply

      Convert to boldConvert to italicConvert to link


This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


ATOM 0.3