Many people have asked me, "Why do you call the blog Reflections in Muddy Water?" There are two explanations, one literal and one metaphorical. The literal explanation arises from Two Run Creek, which runs right behind our old property in Cassville. I used to play in this creek every day, trying to catch bream and filling Mason Jars with periwinkles to show my grandmother. She always worried about snakes. "Y'all watch out! Them water moccasins will chase you!" she would shout from her back porch. Luckily, we were spared from their death venom and warp speed for all those years. We knew what their nests looked like and we always had a rifle close by, just in case. Thanks to Mom and Dad for buying the rifle and showing us how to shoot it. Two inch fangs are no match for a Marlin .22 sighted in so perfectly that I could shoot the pollen off a bee's rearend from 200 yards out.
The metaphorical explanation comes from life itself, as a Southern boy with a 1940's mentality, living in the modern world. The world is "muddy water," so to speak. It is full of possibilities because you really don't know what is underneath the surface. It could be a nice bream (happiness, good health, wealth, etc.) or it could be the snakes that Neen warned us about (evil, greed, ill will, whatever makes us sad or angry). The rifle is your mind and body, molded by your decisions and upbringing, always loaded and ready for action. Use it wisely because you only have one and when you run out of ammunition, the snakes will come in full force. My Cassville roots taught me so many valuable lessons about the world, not just in our little dusty corner of the universe, but everywhere I go. I still love to play in the muddy creek water, I still get joy pulling a nice, fat bream up on the bank....but I'm always on the lookout for snakes and when they come along, the rifle is there and "hesitation" is not in our vocabulary in Cassville.
So, this past weekend, I was pulling weeds and cleaning up pine tree limbs with Dad. It was 4:00 PM and he remarked, "I'm afraid I've waited too long to plant those begonias, Daddy Kim always said don't plant in any months that don't have an "r" in them." Daddy Kim was my great-grandfather. A loveable, wonderful man who missed only one scheduled day of work in 32 years. The same man who married my great-grandmother at the age of 15. The same man who built their house with his own two hands. I love that old school wisdom. In this generation, where everybody "googles" and "wikipedias" everything from hair care to screwing in a light bulb, it's nice to hear something that was actually passed down by word of mouth. My generation just seems to know very little in the way of practical information. Seriously, there are people from my law school class that can pontificate about the Roe v. Wade decision until you want to sacrifice them like an Aztec virgin, yet if you hand them a ratchet and a new car battery, you would hear crickets for miles. I'm not saying they are stupid, but if I had my choice to know the intricacies of supplemental jurisdiction in federal court or how to replace a radiator in a 1989 Dodge Ram....hand me the toolbox, please. It's hard to convince a federal judge of anything if your car is smoking in the driveway and you don't know how to fix it and get to Court.
There were several more sayings that ran through my head as we pulled weeds. The South is always known for its colloquial nature and Cassville is no exception. I compiled a list of my favorites, mostly gleaned from the store and my family members. This list is brought to you by Husky tools (because I replaced a car battery last week...Take that, civil procedure!), calamine lotion (because I got poison oak pulling weeds), and my Aunt Brenda's creamed corn, the single greatest carb explosion since Rosie O'Donnell got off the Atkins Diet and invaded Baskin Robbins with a soup ladle.
1) "You are better off rubbing sand in a lion's ass as to mess with me..."
This was a Billy special. This essentially meant that if you chose to mess with him, you would likely be physically injured in the near future. You would rather be mauled and eaten by a lion than, for example, hide his Taylor's Pride chewing tobacco from him. You normally would not take somebody seriously like this, but when they are packing heat, the lion's ass looks tempting.
2) "I hope they don't get in that cloud on the way over here..."
No, they don't mean that someone physically gets into a cloud. It means they hope the traveler, who is on their way to Cassville, is not intercepted by the storm that is currently coming out of Gadsden, Alabama and on its way toward us. Many unfortunate travelers have been hindered by roadblocks of the cumulonimbus nature over the years. I remember when it came up a cloud on many occasions at the beach and we would lament, "now we can't play putt-putt!" Mom and Dad would smile, knowing the cloud has averted another dreaded round of putt putt where Matt and I argued over who gets the red ball.
See also...."It's coming up a cloud" or "I bet they got in that cloud." (to explain the previously mentioned traveler's lateness) "I got in that cloud" is also an explanation for tardiness that is universally accepted throughout the South.
3) "He's got one foot in the grave and the other one on a banana peel..."
Somebody is on the brink of death, or looks like crap because they are a drug abuser. I remember hearing this when one certain man would come to the store and blow his disability check on lottery tickets every week, geeking on meth and scratching furiously. When he finally mowed down his income to about $15.00 (courtesy of Lucky 7's, $2 Jumbo Bucks and Fantasy 5) , he would buy a 12 pack of Natty Light and a pack of Marlboros instead of food. I guess the he ate the banana that he was eventually going to slip on, because he ended up in prison. Priorities and bananas....alive and well in the 30123.
4) "He could #$@# up an anvil with a banana peel...."
Here we go with banana peels again. This statement means that said person can find a way to screw up anything and everything they touch. It often applies to people on mobile phones, in their cellular funk, somehow find a way to block off the entire parking lot of the store with one car because they are not paying attention. Seriously, I had one woman in a Tahoe, yapping on her Nextel (aaaaah! I hated those things!) back out of the store's parking lot and hit a stop sign. The sign shattered her back glass and fell across the street, thereby blocking all south and northboud traffic. The shattered glass covered about 2,000 square feet, of course, so nobody could get to the gas pumps. The county sent about seven deputies and three DOT workers to the scene, she cried uncontrollably as her insurance guy showed up and said they weren't covering it. The DOT guys smoked about 76 cigarettes, the cops had to give about three "following too closely" tickets from rubberneckers rearending each other, while Dad and I just stood there swatting flies....watching the anvil breaking before out eyes.
5) "Our power goes off every time a damn truck backfires in Chattanooga!"
In the 1990's, our power went off every other day. Seriously, Bartow County residents will back me up on this. We had more blinking digital clocks and lukewarm milk than anywhere in the state! I remember the time that my neighbor got drunk and chainsawed an oak tree onto the power lines, car wrecks that seemed to always find a power pole, blown transformers, high wind, train whistle blew too loudly, "Rugged" Ronnie Garvin wins the TV title from Arn Anderson.....almost any event would trigger a power outage. I swear, our power bill was $6.53 one month in 1994. Neen would drive up to the store to get the latest news on the power outage to spread amongst the populace, we would scramble around and store all the ice cream, meat and milk into coolers and wait for the Georgia Power trucks to fly by. One of them would stop and tell us, "well, it come up a damn cloud down in Rockmart and....." See? Universal explanations....they are right above you at all times. I'm sure Johnnie Cochran would have found a way to use it if he were still alive.
These sayings are not copyrighted, so y'all may use them at your leisure. I plan on using them for the rest of my life. I just have one question though, I wonder if people will understand them in New York City? That's right, folks. Yours truly and Laura are moving to the Big Apple in June. This blog will continue and being in NYC will create a plethora of new stories and ideas for blog material. We are beyond excited about this opportunity. I promise to represent the South and more importantly, Cassville, to the best of my ability. As I said before, you never know what the muddy water will bring you. I guess I saw the reflection of the city skyline in the water and knew this periwinkle-gathering, bream fishing boy could make it anywhere. Although I will be navigating those asphalt streets in the city that never sleeps, I know the creek bank is just a step away.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Taxes, Jenga Blocks and Fence Staples: More Stereotypical Cassville Behavior
I've been dealing with the fact that I will never know everything. No matter how many books I read, how many years of school I attend or how many learned people I speak with, there is no possible way to be all-knowing. The ultimate questions do not concern me, honestly. Why do we die? Where do we go when we die? Are we alone in the universe? Is Soylent Green really people? I have nothing for you there. Those questions will be answered in due time and like a Blockbuster movie, the due date is undetermined. So, I will continue to hang on to these questions, like I did a copy of Terminator 2: Judgment Day, until my time comes to know. I just hope my late fee is not too high....
No, I concern myself with other issues, usually dealing with entertainment or sports. Did Tony Soprano get whacked? How did Sophia get into the walker barn in the Walking Dead? Do UGA football players have weed magnets in their pockets during the offseason? Will Tiger ever recover from his PR nightmare? The answers to those questions are as follows:
1) I don't believe he did. A truce was called, dang it!
2) She watched The Fray sing the National Anthem and died of shame.
3) Yes. That is the only explanation, because "I didn't know it was weed" simply does not work anymore.
4) Will Georgia Tech ever be relevant? Did Florida have any fans prior to 1990? The answer is the same.
Another unanswered question that comes about this time of year, one that plagues us all.....where does my tax money actually go? I have only been paying taxes since I graduated (for the third time) in 2007, so I'm not quite as jaded as some. However, my cynicism and sarcasm make me sound like I've been paying since 1965. Oh well, I'll find someone to blame for it when I finally retire, I'm too busy working right now. Since I'm writing my check to the IRS this week, I have concocted five destinations for my hard earned money, listed in order of probability (1 being least likely, 5 being most likely):
1) A new EKG machine for a VA hospital and research grants for cancer physicians;
2) A raise for teachers, firefighters and police officers;
3) A new Ipad for an out of work, single mother of five illegitimate children;
4) A new Rascal (with a reverse beeper) for a "disabled" 350 pound man with type 2 diabetes, carpal tunnel syndrome, fibromyalgia and one of the 73 types of fake autism;
5) A new condo for Senator ____________ in the Gulf of Mexico and a down payment on his hurricane insurance premium.
I'm sorry if those last three seem harsh, but when you live amongst the stereotypical government check recipients and know young teachers who struggle to make their mortgage payment, you will develop a harsh attitude.
Anyhow, Cassville stereotypes do not yield such harshness. I find them to be endearing qualities of people that I come to appreciate more and more every single day. There were times, however, when I wanted to look at some people and say, "Really?!?" This list is brought to you by Krylon Spray Paint (saw graffiti today that said "Sweet Pea Luvs Jesus"), Exit 306 on I-75 and the "peach's" for sale there, and Red Ryder BB Guns (apparently, somebody has been naughty and shooting Cassville natives with a BB Gun this week.) News flash, fools....some of those people are carrying enough heat to reduce your Z-71 to an Isuzu PUP. I'd pick a new town.
The Guy Who Always Wants Lunch Meat Two Minutes Before Closing
When we closed the store at 8:00 PM, we always cleaned the place from front to back, side to side. Every single night, I would sweep and mop the floor with Pine Sol, wipe down the cooler doors, and of course, bleach the deli equipment. I'm not talking about a little spray and wipe, either. I declared war upon E.Coli and dropped Clorox bombs all over the meat slicer. Since the slicer was 273 years old, it was stainless steel, huge and had about 900 tiny crevices where nastiness could reside. Yours truly would clean every single bit of it. Undoubtedly, at 7:58 PM, right after I finished the last crevice, somebody would walk in and say, "Man, I hate to do this, but I need a 1/4 pound of roast beef."
Many of you are thinking, "So what? It's a 1/4 pound and you're done." Wrong. Imagine you are in college again, playing Jenga on a random Tuesday. You and the other player are getting down to the very end, it's getting tense. The game has been going on for thirty minutes and a free pizza is riding on this game. Just as you are about to make a move to seal the deal, one of your fraternity brothers bumps the table, spills a Miller High Life in your lap and sneezes on you as the Jenga blocks crumble. That's what a 7:58 roast beef order is like. The entire process must be repeated, because roast beef has internal juice that pours out of every slice like Zima at Georgia Tech on Gameday. Further, you have the black/brown outer layer of the meat that smears itself all over the slicer like a 3rd grade finger painting. So, enjoy your $2.37 worth of roast beef. I'll still be cleaning when the Mayan calendar expires.
The Guy Who Wants Me to Check the Radiator on His Smoking Car
You can hear these guys coming down Cassville Road from miles away. You know the sound, Southern people. It's the sweet rumble of a Camaro without the muffler and/or blown head gasket, the scraping of the muffler pipe on the asphalt and the choking noise of an engine with five year old oil and a rod that's about to be "thowed." ("Throwing a rod" in a car is a death sentence for said vehicle. I saw a Cassville man make this diagnosis on a Mustang in the parking lot once. Everyone standing around the car agreed and muttered something like, "sheeeyat, junk this baby and get you a Chevy!" You might as well drop a piano on the car or light it on fire...it's over.)
Of course, there is smoke billowing from under the hood. It looks like somebody started a campfire under it. Without fail, they pull the car right next to the front door, so the wonderful smell of burned oil, grinding transmission and exhaust fill the entire building. He pops the hood and the powder keg of an engine is running more ragged than the University of Arkansas's Public Relations Department. I walk out the door and the driver yells out the window, "check 'at (that) radiator and see if I need water!" Yeah, I'll get right on that. Getting my face melted off by 375 degree water was high on my "to do" list today, so thanks for coming in. You look at the car and realize that "needing water" is about the 234th thing wrong with this car. The guys on the benches are waving their arms in disgust, the smoke detector is going off in the store now and two old people want to sample the butter pecan ice cream. Dad comes out the door, with a fury usually reserved for thieves, door-to-door salesmen and tricky price guns, and verbally assaults the driver until he leaves.
The Full Service Advantage Taker
It's true, we were a full service gas station. It's true, part of our job description was pumping gas for our customers any time we were able. It's true, I actually enjoyed pumping gas, checking oil and transmission fluid for people. There's a quiet enjoyment when you're under the hood of a 1987 Chevrolet S-10, I can't really explain it. (especially when the driver's grandmother is sitting in the bed, smoking a cigarette with her iron lung propper up next to her. True story.)
Then, you have the men who always come in when we are the busiest, with a one gallon gas can for their weedeater. They sit the can next to the pump, stand there with their arms crossed and stare into the store. We are running around like ants that just realized a jelly donut fell on top of our nest. People are everywhere. This guy needs 3 pounds of sixteen penny nails and 2 pounds of fence staples, for which you need gloves because they are THE sharpest things on the face of the Earth. This lady needs two bags of sweet feed. Another guy needs a key cut for a 1989 Chevrolet Silverado (two-sided, of course). Still, the man stands there with his one gallon can. In the time it takes for me to get out there, I could have:
1) Mobilized a Marine battalion, invaded Morocco and renamed it Cassville-East;
2) Taken the SAT again;
3) Cut his grass, weedeated his driveway, eaten a Moon Pie with an RC Cola and learned Mandarin Chinese.
So, when I finish pumping the $2.15 (this was the 90's....cheap gas, tightrolled jeans, and Saved By The Bell was still on, aaahhhhh) he just sheepishly says, "Man, y'all sure are busy. Do y'all need any part time help?"
My response: "Yeah, we got this meat slicer....."
Have a great weekend!
No, I concern myself with other issues, usually dealing with entertainment or sports. Did Tony Soprano get whacked? How did Sophia get into the walker barn in the Walking Dead? Do UGA football players have weed magnets in their pockets during the offseason? Will Tiger ever recover from his PR nightmare? The answers to those questions are as follows:
1) I don't believe he did. A truce was called, dang it!
2) She watched The Fray sing the National Anthem and died of shame.
3) Yes. That is the only explanation, because "I didn't know it was weed" simply does not work anymore.
4) Will Georgia Tech ever be relevant? Did Florida have any fans prior to 1990? The answer is the same.
Another unanswered question that comes about this time of year, one that plagues us all.....where does my tax money actually go? I have only been paying taxes since I graduated (for the third time) in 2007, so I'm not quite as jaded as some. However, my cynicism and sarcasm make me sound like I've been paying since 1965. Oh well, I'll find someone to blame for it when I finally retire, I'm too busy working right now. Since I'm writing my check to the IRS this week, I have concocted five destinations for my hard earned money, listed in order of probability (1 being least likely, 5 being most likely):
1) A new EKG machine for a VA hospital and research grants for cancer physicians;
2) A raise for teachers, firefighters and police officers;
3) A new Ipad for an out of work, single mother of five illegitimate children;
4) A new Rascal (with a reverse beeper) for a "disabled" 350 pound man with type 2 diabetes, carpal tunnel syndrome, fibromyalgia and one of the 73 types of fake autism;
5) A new condo for Senator ____________ in the Gulf of Mexico and a down payment on his hurricane insurance premium.
I'm sorry if those last three seem harsh, but when you live amongst the stereotypical government check recipients and know young teachers who struggle to make their mortgage payment, you will develop a harsh attitude.
Anyhow, Cassville stereotypes do not yield such harshness. I find them to be endearing qualities of people that I come to appreciate more and more every single day. There were times, however, when I wanted to look at some people and say, "Really?!?" This list is brought to you by Krylon Spray Paint (saw graffiti today that said "Sweet Pea Luvs Jesus"), Exit 306 on I-75 and the "peach's" for sale there, and Red Ryder BB Guns (apparently, somebody has been naughty and shooting Cassville natives with a BB Gun this week.) News flash, fools....some of those people are carrying enough heat to reduce your Z-71 to an Isuzu PUP. I'd pick a new town.
The Guy Who Always Wants Lunch Meat Two Minutes Before Closing
When we closed the store at 8:00 PM, we always cleaned the place from front to back, side to side. Every single night, I would sweep and mop the floor with Pine Sol, wipe down the cooler doors, and of course, bleach the deli equipment. I'm not talking about a little spray and wipe, either. I declared war upon E.Coli and dropped Clorox bombs all over the meat slicer. Since the slicer was 273 years old, it was stainless steel, huge and had about 900 tiny crevices where nastiness could reside. Yours truly would clean every single bit of it. Undoubtedly, at 7:58 PM, right after I finished the last crevice, somebody would walk in and say, "Man, I hate to do this, but I need a 1/4 pound of roast beef."
Many of you are thinking, "So what? It's a 1/4 pound and you're done." Wrong. Imagine you are in college again, playing Jenga on a random Tuesday. You and the other player are getting down to the very end, it's getting tense. The game has been going on for thirty minutes and a free pizza is riding on this game. Just as you are about to make a move to seal the deal, one of your fraternity brothers bumps the table, spills a Miller High Life in your lap and sneezes on you as the Jenga blocks crumble. That's what a 7:58 roast beef order is like. The entire process must be repeated, because roast beef has internal juice that pours out of every slice like Zima at Georgia Tech on Gameday. Further, you have the black/brown outer layer of the meat that smears itself all over the slicer like a 3rd grade finger painting. So, enjoy your $2.37 worth of roast beef. I'll still be cleaning when the Mayan calendar expires.
The Guy Who Wants Me to Check the Radiator on His Smoking Car
You can hear these guys coming down Cassville Road from miles away. You know the sound, Southern people. It's the sweet rumble of a Camaro without the muffler and/or blown head gasket, the scraping of the muffler pipe on the asphalt and the choking noise of an engine with five year old oil and a rod that's about to be "thowed." ("Throwing a rod" in a car is a death sentence for said vehicle. I saw a Cassville man make this diagnosis on a Mustang in the parking lot once. Everyone standing around the car agreed and muttered something like, "sheeeyat, junk this baby and get you a Chevy!" You might as well drop a piano on the car or light it on fire...it's over.)
Of course, there is smoke billowing from under the hood. It looks like somebody started a campfire under it. Without fail, they pull the car right next to the front door, so the wonderful smell of burned oil, grinding transmission and exhaust fill the entire building. He pops the hood and the powder keg of an engine is running more ragged than the University of Arkansas's Public Relations Department. I walk out the door and the driver yells out the window, "check 'at (that) radiator and see if I need water!" Yeah, I'll get right on that. Getting my face melted off by 375 degree water was high on my "to do" list today, so thanks for coming in. You look at the car and realize that "needing water" is about the 234th thing wrong with this car. The guys on the benches are waving their arms in disgust, the smoke detector is going off in the store now and two old people want to sample the butter pecan ice cream. Dad comes out the door, with a fury usually reserved for thieves, door-to-door salesmen and tricky price guns, and verbally assaults the driver until he leaves.
The Full Service Advantage Taker
It's true, we were a full service gas station. It's true, part of our job description was pumping gas for our customers any time we were able. It's true, I actually enjoyed pumping gas, checking oil and transmission fluid for people. There's a quiet enjoyment when you're under the hood of a 1987 Chevrolet S-10, I can't really explain it. (especially when the driver's grandmother is sitting in the bed, smoking a cigarette with her iron lung propper up next to her. True story.)
Then, you have the men who always come in when we are the busiest, with a one gallon gas can for their weedeater. They sit the can next to the pump, stand there with their arms crossed and stare into the store. We are running around like ants that just realized a jelly donut fell on top of our nest. People are everywhere. This guy needs 3 pounds of sixteen penny nails and 2 pounds of fence staples, for which you need gloves because they are THE sharpest things on the face of the Earth. This lady needs two bags of sweet feed. Another guy needs a key cut for a 1989 Chevrolet Silverado (two-sided, of course). Still, the man stands there with his one gallon can. In the time it takes for me to get out there, I could have:
1) Mobilized a Marine battalion, invaded Morocco and renamed it Cassville-East;
2) Taken the SAT again;
3) Cut his grass, weedeated his driveway, eaten a Moon Pie with an RC Cola and learned Mandarin Chinese.
So, when I finish pumping the $2.15 (this was the 90's....cheap gas, tightrolled jeans, and Saved By The Bell was still on, aaahhhhh) he just sheepishly says, "Man, y'all sure are busy. Do y'all need any part time help?"
My response: "Yeah, we got this meat slicer....."
Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Things People Don't Say in Cassville
I love Internet epidemics. They have replaced the news as my information highway and window to the outside world. Nothing helps me get through a stressful day like looking at "standing broom" pictures, Twitter controversies, and fake Youtube videos of Sasquatches, killer whales eating people off the beach and the latest "Pants on The Ground" song that people like for about 48 hours. Simon Cowell is having a snarky Twitter fight with Steven Tyler? There's a video of a dog drinking a dry martini? Sold. I need laughs and the American public never fails to amuse me.
One thing that did not amuse me this week was The Fray's rendition of the National Anthem during the Kentucky-Kansas game. I already disliked their music (as I do all modern "rock") but they have elevated themselves into the Kenny Chesney zone with me. Three acoustic guitars, a tamborine and three guys in sweater vests/baby Gap t-shirts massacring a wonderful song by making it sound like something from "Dawson's Creek." Seriously, it was like a talentless high school band playing "Brown Eyed Girl" in a Caribou Coffee somwhere in suburban Hell. I thought about three things as they wailed mercilessly and the Kentucky/Kansas faithful contemplated getting another beverage....
1) I wish one of those Marines would just cleave the lead singer's head off with his sword;
2) The parties responsible for choosing this horrendous abomination need to be busted down to mail room duty;
3) I actually miss Whitney Houston.
This one will become a Youtube sensation, I guarantee it. It was right up there with Roseanne and Carl Lewis.
Ok, back to funny stuff. One of the more recent epidemics that has appeared on Youtube is "S**t People Say/Don't Say in _________." That blank can be filled by anything. States, cities, and colleges are the usual culprits. Many of them also incorporate gender/race/social standing into their lists, which makes it completely hilarious. For example, "S**t White People Don't Say in Compton." See? You are hooked already. It's like watching old people back into a parking space, it's going to be awkward, very amusing and you just can't turn away. This actually happened to me yesterday while I was eating lunch outside. This elderly man in a Ford F-150 pulled into the crowded parking lot, surveyed the open spaces and decided to back into the space that was bordered by a large oak tree on the left and a Dodge Ram 3500 on the right. There were other spaces next to small cars. There were spaces with NO cars next to them. Of course, he picks THE MOST difficult space. I counted eight times that he pulled forward and backed up before he finally turned off the ignition. In the amount of time it took for him to finish, I could have 1) smashed all The Fray's guitars Belushi-style and gone to jail; 2) watched a season of the Sopranos; and 3) counted the number of people who swear they saw an Adam's Apple in Brittney Griner's throat this week.
Northwest Georgia culture, specifically Cassville, has some words, phases, ideas, values and expressions that are used every single day. For example:
"Man, I hope the Braves won last night."
"How's your momma 'n them?"
"Y'all ain't right!"
"That deer had 17 points, I swear!"
"Brad, I would have the money for that credit you gave me last week but Daddy's bond was $750 and we pawned my brother's Playstation and his bird gun but it wasn't enough, sorry."
You will hear that nearly every single day without fail. I got to wondering though, what would you NOT hear in Cassville? What phrases would not be uttered on the benches of Cass Grocery? What ideas are taboo from the Cedar Creek dumpsters to the New Macedonia Holiness Antioch Bread of Life Full Bible Church? I thought long and hard about this, remembering my days of listening to stories about bar fights, fishing at Lake Weiss, who got arrested at Edwards Trailer Park last night, who could pick up bags of horse feed with one hand (my uncle Mark) and what environmental illegality somebody just committed with a car muffler. It has been mulled over and perused more times than the Health Care Reform Act, except this will not cost you anything. This list is brought to you by RealTree Low Carb Energy Drinks (I'm more jittery than a meth addict at a roadblock, thanks), Purell Hand Sanitizer (somebody said, "the Wal-Mart brand is cheaper" and I replied that I'd rather rub molten lava on my hands), and the tire rut in the parking lot at my Dallas office. The Jetta can" get on it" too, what can I say?
Things You Will Not Hear in Cassville, Georgia (at any time, anywhere)
1) "We just don't need another Waffle House."
2) "I'm just so glad the carpenter bees come back every spring."
3) "Y'alls gas prices are low enough."
4) "You know, I always get the best service at Lowe's. Everybody there knows so much!"
5) "I hate working on cars. I get no joy out of installing lift kits, drive shafts, or rear axles."
6) "I never need plumbing supplies."
7) "Let's go to a Hawks game!"
8) "When I really think about it, Jeff Gordon is pretty good for the diversity of NASCAR. I like what he brings to the table. He is also heterosexual."
9) "No, no, no....it's soda pop."
10) "I really enjoyed La Boheme at the Fox last night."
11) "Let's not put out all these Christmas lights this year."
12) "I don't secretly like to cut my grass because I just bought a $4,000 Ex Mark."
13) "My wife and I really enjoy fishing trips to Allatoona together."
14) "My husband was right."
15) "Cherokee, North Carolina is a place I cannot see myself going."
16) "Killing a deer just does nothing for me."
17) "Put out that cigarette, you know it causes low birth weight!"
18) "You don't like Moon Pies? Cool. Me neither."
19) "Do y'all happen to carry Sweetwater 420 or Terrapin here?"
20) "That song is on my Ipod!"
21) "I don't get into fights at my kid's baseball games. My kid is also not that good, I'm just glad he enjoys the game."
22) "Do you have unsweet tea?"
23) "Bumper Stickers are just car graffiti."
24) "I'm not going to buy a 4-Wheeler with my bonus check."
25) "That Prius I just bought really has done wonders for my gas mileage. I don't miss that Mustang one bit."
26) "I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer little known craft beers made in Europe."
27) "Dale Earnhardt was such a jerk on the track."
28) "I'm happy with the current administration. They seem to operate in an efficient manner and care about the little man. I hope they come by my house to campaign during the next election."
29) "Technically, moonshiners did break the law."
30) "I have never gotten angry for any reason and moved churches. I have also only been saved once."
31) "Hmmm, I'll have a Pepsi."
Those are just a few examples (one for every year of my life) of what you will not hear in the 30123. At least from a native, that is. If somebody asks for Hunt's Ketchup, discusses the speed of their internet, their relative happiness with their pay structure at work or attends sporting events not involving a ball, a car, an animal or punching someone in the face.....they are not from Cassville.
As for The Fray, well, they better not show up in Cassville. Not after what they did. You know why?
32) "We ain't armed, don't worry about it."
One thing that did not amuse me this week was The Fray's rendition of the National Anthem during the Kentucky-Kansas game. I already disliked their music (as I do all modern "rock") but they have elevated themselves into the Kenny Chesney zone with me. Three acoustic guitars, a tamborine and three guys in sweater vests/baby Gap t-shirts massacring a wonderful song by making it sound like something from "Dawson's Creek." Seriously, it was like a talentless high school band playing "Brown Eyed Girl" in a Caribou Coffee somwhere in suburban Hell. I thought about three things as they wailed mercilessly and the Kentucky/Kansas faithful contemplated getting another beverage....
1) I wish one of those Marines would just cleave the lead singer's head off with his sword;
2) The parties responsible for choosing this horrendous abomination need to be busted down to mail room duty;
3) I actually miss Whitney Houston.
This one will become a Youtube sensation, I guarantee it. It was right up there with Roseanne and Carl Lewis.
Ok, back to funny stuff. One of the more recent epidemics that has appeared on Youtube is "S**t People Say/Don't Say in _________." That blank can be filled by anything. States, cities, and colleges are the usual culprits. Many of them also incorporate gender/race/social standing into their lists, which makes it completely hilarious. For example, "S**t White People Don't Say in Compton." See? You are hooked already. It's like watching old people back into a parking space, it's going to be awkward, very amusing and you just can't turn away. This actually happened to me yesterday while I was eating lunch outside. This elderly man in a Ford F-150 pulled into the crowded parking lot, surveyed the open spaces and decided to back into the space that was bordered by a large oak tree on the left and a Dodge Ram 3500 on the right. There were other spaces next to small cars. There were spaces with NO cars next to them. Of course, he picks THE MOST difficult space. I counted eight times that he pulled forward and backed up before he finally turned off the ignition. In the amount of time it took for him to finish, I could have 1) smashed all The Fray's guitars Belushi-style and gone to jail; 2) watched a season of the Sopranos; and 3) counted the number of people who swear they saw an Adam's Apple in Brittney Griner's throat this week.
Northwest Georgia culture, specifically Cassville, has some words, phases, ideas, values and expressions that are used every single day. For example:
"Man, I hope the Braves won last night."
"How's your momma 'n them?"
"Y'all ain't right!"
"That deer had 17 points, I swear!"
"Brad, I would have the money for that credit you gave me last week but Daddy's bond was $750 and we pawned my brother's Playstation and his bird gun but it wasn't enough, sorry."
You will hear that nearly every single day without fail. I got to wondering though, what would you NOT hear in Cassville? What phrases would not be uttered on the benches of Cass Grocery? What ideas are taboo from the Cedar Creek dumpsters to the New Macedonia Holiness Antioch Bread of Life Full Bible Church? I thought long and hard about this, remembering my days of listening to stories about bar fights, fishing at Lake Weiss, who got arrested at Edwards Trailer Park last night, who could pick up bags of horse feed with one hand (my uncle Mark) and what environmental illegality somebody just committed with a car muffler. It has been mulled over and perused more times than the Health Care Reform Act, except this will not cost you anything. This list is brought to you by RealTree Low Carb Energy Drinks (I'm more jittery than a meth addict at a roadblock, thanks), Purell Hand Sanitizer (somebody said, "the Wal-Mart brand is cheaper" and I replied that I'd rather rub molten lava on my hands), and the tire rut in the parking lot at my Dallas office. The Jetta can" get on it" too, what can I say?
Things You Will Not Hear in Cassville, Georgia (at any time, anywhere)
1) "We just don't need another Waffle House."
2) "I'm just so glad the carpenter bees come back every spring."
3) "Y'alls gas prices are low enough."
4) "You know, I always get the best service at Lowe's. Everybody there knows so much!"
5) "I hate working on cars. I get no joy out of installing lift kits, drive shafts, or rear axles."
6) "I never need plumbing supplies."
7) "Let's go to a Hawks game!"
8) "When I really think about it, Jeff Gordon is pretty good for the diversity of NASCAR. I like what he brings to the table. He is also heterosexual."
9) "No, no, no....it's soda pop."
10) "I really enjoyed La Boheme at the Fox last night."
11) "Let's not put out all these Christmas lights this year."
12) "I don't secretly like to cut my grass because I just bought a $4,000 Ex Mark."
13) "My wife and I really enjoy fishing trips to Allatoona together."
14) "My husband was right."
15) "Cherokee, North Carolina is a place I cannot see myself going."
16) "Killing a deer just does nothing for me."
17) "Put out that cigarette, you know it causes low birth weight!"
18) "You don't like Moon Pies? Cool. Me neither."
19) "Do y'all happen to carry Sweetwater 420 or Terrapin here?"
20) "That song is on my Ipod!"
21) "I don't get into fights at my kid's baseball games. My kid is also not that good, I'm just glad he enjoys the game."
22) "Do you have unsweet tea?"
23) "Bumper Stickers are just car graffiti."
24) "I'm not going to buy a 4-Wheeler with my bonus check."
25) "That Prius I just bought really has done wonders for my gas mileage. I don't miss that Mustang one bit."
26) "I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer little known craft beers made in Europe."
27) "Dale Earnhardt was such a jerk on the track."
28) "I'm happy with the current administration. They seem to operate in an efficient manner and care about the little man. I hope they come by my house to campaign during the next election."
29) "Technically, moonshiners did break the law."
30) "I have never gotten angry for any reason and moved churches. I have also only been saved once."
31) "Hmmm, I'll have a Pepsi."
Those are just a few examples (one for every year of my life) of what you will not hear in the 30123. At least from a native, that is. If somebody asks for Hunt's Ketchup, discusses the speed of their internet, their relative happiness with their pay structure at work or attends sporting events not involving a ball, a car, an animal or punching someone in the face.....they are not from Cassville.
As for The Fray, well, they better not show up in Cassville. Not after what they did. You know why?
32) "We ain't armed, don't worry about it."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
About Me
- Brad
- I'm good at people watching and the memorization of useless facts. I'm voracious eater, reader, Crossfitter and Dawg fan. Shamelessly devoted to the cause of making 9-5 not suck so bad.