So, here we are again. You know the feeling you get when you drink one bottle of wine and then make that rosy tinted decision to drink the other one you have next to you? Well, add that and an assist from Pandora and you get semi-drunken blogging.
Today at the liquor store I spent the gift card I got for my birthday. I have 6 bottles of Papio in my cart and I go to pay. In front of me is the apex of trailer-park evolution. Cut off sleeve T-shirt, shorts, backwards hat, shitty tattoos, flip flops and what else but stupid wannabe-tough-guy-lispy voice. Dip shit tries to pay with a gift card with not enough money for a pack of cigarettes and comes up short. He disputes the amount of the gift card with the teller. She proves him wrong and he decides he doesn't need the cigs. So he opts for chew. Grizzly. Clearly we have a Masterpiece Theater, wine aficionado, high class Motherfucker here.
I really thought when I was out of the clutches of the Mason-Dixon I would be away from all these pieces of shit, but NO! It seems like every time I go to get some fucking fruit I have to encounter Cletus and his non-shirt -wearing ilk. In the past two days I have seen 3 assholes in the supermarket without shirts. Sometimes I think I should move into my dead-parent's-ghost-infested house just so I can enjoy the Southern cooking whilst I look at assholes who can't be bothered to wear shirts to the Goddamn Wal-Mart.
My mother-in-law bought some ribs for my 2nd birthday and paid way too much for them. That is the only reason I bring up the last part. The ribs were good, but they weren't that good for that much money.
That, I surmise, is the message of this post. The frigid North is populated by all manner of shit heads who, willingly, call themselves the Slednecks. I really hate this kind of Dumbed Down culture that people aspire to. Purists will note that the last sentence ended with a preposition. Hey, I'm a little wasted, give me some lee way.
No comments:
Post a Comment