Monday, June 13, 2011
You Might Be A Redneck If . . .
I realized something a little disturbing a minute ago. While I was listening to a country song about a trucker. You see, country music is pretty much the staple music for rednecks, and I have always been a country music fan. More so the stuff from the 90's to now, but still. So, I'm listening to this song about a trucker, and my husband is a trucker, and I'm thinking to myself, "Ha, kinda makes us a little redneck-ish."
And then I considered something.
Here's some info I know about rednecks. They live in the country, you know, rural areas. They own horses, and the smell of manure in the morning is like a breath of fresh air. Hand-me-downs are almost as good as shopping at Walmart, which is the mecca of a redneck when there is one in the area. Rednecks love country music, play guitars, drive pickup trucks, and eat fried chicken. A lot of rednecks are truckers. Sometimes their family tree is a little bit . . . skewompus.
So . . . for a good portion of my life I lived in an apartment building next to a field, in which there lived horses, in a smallish town that always seemed really Mayberry to me. I even rode one of the horses once when the neighbor kids and I jumped the fence. The smell of manure, to this day, is still a bit homey to me. I'm very careful when walking through tall grass to avoid cowpies and other treasures that might be hiding in the grass.
I love hand-me-downs, and my mom and sisters and I play the pass-along game very well. My daughter, for her whole life, has been wearing some of the same outfits I wore when I as a baby and toddler, and I always pass on my nice clothes that don't fit me anymore to my sisters who are all smaller than me.
I also love shopping at Walmart, that is like my favorite store ever. I am hard on clothes, especially shirts and jeans, so I can't afford to spend half a paycheck on a new pair of pants every six months. $20 jeans at Walmart, come to mama! And $4 t-shirts? I'm so there! I also know where to find all the food stuff at Walmart, especially the snack aisle.
I LOVE country music, it is by far my favorite music genre ever. I love most kinds of music, with the exception of rap, most hip-hop, most jazz, and soul and stuff (I never grew up with it), but country is my music. Love it, love it, love it. I also play guitar, and someday I want to have my own pickup truck that makes the other little four door sedans on the road look little and scared. I also want a nice little car with amazing gas mileage, but my heart's desire is a really big pickup truck. And I love fried chicken, KFC is one of my favorite restaurants.
This is practically irrelevant, but I have a cowboy hat too. It's my favorite hat. And I recently bought cowboy boots that match it.
My husband became a trucker at the beginning of this year, completely with the insane facial hair and one arm tan, the other not. It took a lot of self-control not to pin him down, sit on his chest, and take a razor to his face and scalp. It was long enough that you could almost pull it into a ponytail in the back.
And as far as my family tree goes, my psycho uncle was once married to my sister-in-law (big disaster, don't ask), meaning my uncle was my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law was my aunt, my mom was my sister-in-law's sister-in-law, and my husband was his sister's nephew-in-law.
Now, I've always considered myself a country girl at heart, but holy cheese balls.
I'M A FREAKING REDNECK!!!!