Saturday, April 01, 2006

Attention, people of the South

Look, I don't want to start anything. I don't want to refight the Civil War (for one thing, the depopulation of the North has become so severe that you'd probably kick our asses.) And anyway, I'm a Southern Belle wannabe. And I love my Southern friends, I really do. Even when they're being preposterous. (As in talking about "real Southern chicken salad." Hello? No matter where you make it, chicken salad is cooked chicken, chopped celery, and Hellmann's mayonnaise.)

But I just spent two days driving from Florida to Illinois. And there are some areas that need a little help.

1. It's called "fast food" for a reason. It's supposed to be fast. I don't want to go into a Starbucks and wait 15 minutes for a latte when there was only one person in line in front of me. I don't usually drink coffee; I don't usually go to Starbucks; I don't know a venti from a grande from my left butt cheek. I certainly don't know how to use the machines. What does this mean? It means I start to get pissed off when I find myself wondering whether it wouldn't be faster for me to walk behind the fucking counter and make the goddamned coffee myself.

2. Not all Northerners are from New York. In fact, many of us are from cities that hate New York. So don't ask someone wearing a Boston Red Sox baseball cap what part of New York she's from. Here's a clue for you: the B on the cap isn't for "Bronx" or "Brooklyn."

3. Yeah, snow can be hazardous to drive in and it's a bitch to shovel, but it covers up a lot of flaws. So. If you don't get snow, the burden is on you to keep your yard cleaned up.

4. I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but up north, when we see insects, we call the exterminator. We don't arrange an annual festival around the local fire ant population.

5. You've got to learn to pace yourselves. 86 degrees at 10:00 in the morning in March is too much too soon. What are you going to do in July and August if you're letting it get that hot in March?

6. OK, OK, it's warm all year around. We get it. Now get the weight-lifting equipment off the front porch. Sheesh.

7. Oh yeah. All the signs along the highway in Georgia for "spas" aren't fooling anyone. And if one of my children ever asks me what a "spa" is, I'm going to drive right the fuck up to one of them, march in, and demand a hot stone aromatherapy massage. And someone had better know how to do it, too. Because after the embarrassing experience of having to explain to my children what truckers like to do during their (you should excuse the expression) "down time," I'm going to need a nice long soothing massage. And if I don't get one, I really am going to restart the Civil War.


  1. As someone who lives too far south to live in The South, I humbly beseech you to tell me:

    1- What it is truckers like to do with their down time, and
    2- Why you know this, and
    3- What a spa has to do with this.


  2. Badger: Aren't I just precious?

    Joke: 1. "Massages" 2. I can tell from the bikini-clad "masseurs" depicted on the big-ass billboards. 3. "Spa" is a euphemism.

  3. Whoops. That's "bikini-clad masseuses. Them truckers ain't gay.

  4. Oh! I guess you don't know what "bless your heart" means in Southern. You might want to look it up.

  5. Well, thank you for the clarifications. And doesn't 'bless your heart' usually preceed an insult?

    And have you started in on the laundry? ACK!

  6. When I lived in New England, southerner's, upon hearing my accent, would ask me where I was from. I would say, "Rhode Island." They would reply, "Oh is that in New York?"


  7. Badger, you are just the cutest thing! Of course I know what "bless your heart" means, and it's just precious of you to leave it as a comment.

  8. Oh, well good. I hate it when my insults fly right over people's heads.

    WVW: aeoui
    I learned them in a different order, but okay.

  9. So "spa," then is where truckers get "massaged?"

    If so, this will forever change my conception of "hot stones massage."


  10. What does this mean? It means I start to get pissed off when I find myself wondering whether it wouldn't be faster for me to walk behind the fucking counter and make the goddamned coffee myself.

    Where you in Knoxville TN when this happened? Because I had the exact same experience there when coming back from a road trip to Savannah GA with some friends and I swear to god that they were just starting to grow the coffee beans as I got done ordering.

    Some people hae a skewed vision of the true purpose of a drive up window...


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.