When people assume...well, you know what happens. That's why I let the dust settle after the episodes back in October where the bullies tried to shut me up.
I thought I'd tell ya'll why I call my ex, My Ex The Redneck.
Number one? It rhymes. I'm simple like that.
Number two? I didn't want to use her real name.
Number three? She actually calls herself that. But that's hard to explain to a couple of high-falutin' Yankees that consider it insulting and are trying to defend her.
Early in our relationship, My Ex The Redneck and I realized that we were both descendants of rednecks, country folk, or whatever you want to call them.
During a trip for Thanksgiving Dinner at my cousin Sara's house, she walks us outside to show us her birthday present. Glass packs for her classic Boss muscle car (it makes it real loud). That's the first time I remember My Ex The Redneck calling my family redneck. I called her family redneck right back and the games began.
Every year we would make mental notes of the redneck things that our family did and compare at the end of the year. Who ever had the most redneck family events won.
The first year, my cousin Sara won with the glass packs. Mostly because we didn't spend much time with My Ex The Redneck's family.
The next year, My Ex The Redneck won at Easter. Very early in the year to be winning, but you'll see why.
We dressed in pastel and brought a side dish for Pudd and Bubba's (YES, those are their real names.) Easter Covered Dish Dinner. They COULD have won on names alone, but they didn't have to. After dinner, I walked onto the front porch.
Me: Pushes open the aluminum screen door and let's it slam. (Somewhere from inside: Don't slam the door!")
Bubba: "Hey Julie, grab that cooler or flip that bucket upside down and siddown with us." Do not believe everything you've heard about Southern gentlemen.
Me: Flips five gallon bucket over and perches on it. "What's that smell?"
Bubba: Aw, that damn cat of Pudd's crawled up under the porch and died last week. We cain't reach 'im to get 'im out.
They all sat on the front porch talking, laughing and smelling the dead cat. I went back inside. Somebody else got the bucket.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
ASS U ME
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23 comments:
Good Afternoon RLL,
I will never think about Glass packs in the same way again. Course it's been a few years since I bought a set.
I needed this laugh. thanks.
Hahaha oh man... I think I peed a little from laughing LOL
you and me really ARE cousins RLL! My relatives in Arkansas are probably married to your relatives, etc....
Nice.
No wonder she won that year...
yuk
LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Thanks for your comment on my blog! I love my blue hair...wish I could have it in RL!
GG
Oh yah we have a winner, ha ha ha!
Yea I think we have a winner on that one!
You know, I have family (immediate family at that) that not only watches bump-to-pass dirt track racing, but drives in it! Race cars on flatbed trailers in the front yard. Looks like we might share some heritage!
that Mustang is the sexiest thing I've seen this morning...(my partner had already left for work this morning before I got up, so she doesn't count..) god..I love me some Mustang :)
Unfreakingbelievable!
Made me laugh.
Okay...I must admit...I'm from redneck stock, as well...someday I'll share some experiences and we'll see if Ex Redneck still holds the title! (Can't believe I'm coming out!)
How can you not love a couple named Pudd and Bubba?? :)
The dead cat smell...OMG! That is TOO funny!!
LMAO! Ewwwww!
At least they didn't try to serve the cat (although, if they could have reached it, you never know).
bwahahahahahahahahahahaahahahaa
OK, I needed a great laugh and that did the trick!
Well I might qualify for that neck thing.
That car makes me wanna get nekkid!!
Sawweeetttttttttttt
Some people like to make a game of being offended. I guess it must be fun for them.
I would love to have that Mustang or maybe the new KITT.
Sometimes a hasty retreat is in order - love those names - I went on a date with a Bubba once in Biloxi. Once being the operative word. Ya gotta love the bubbas.
Classic.
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