Oh, the silly things we worried about as teenagers! I've just spent an hour going through old school notebooks and such, and if my biggest source of angst today was whether Joe Schmoe liked my new Members Only jacket, I'd be in good shape. Selective ignorance only goes so far anymore.
As amusing as those notebooks are, they're all getting tossed, along with anything I've saved for reasons I've forgotten, toys too beat-up to put in the yard sale, birthday cards from people I don't remember, and love notes from anyone prior to my husband. Hubby claimed all my NASCAR memorabilia so I suppose we have to haul that home with us. I can't gripe; I have half a dozen moving boxes full of horses- plastic, ceramic, glass, you name it- that will be making the trip as well. A box of bones and fossils, a pile of photos, several gumball machine toys from the days when they had cool stuff in them, and two sketchbooks (of many) are in the "Keep" pile. I've started an "eBay" pile too... fortunately for my already crowded apartment, the "Dump" pile is the biggest so far.
Why do I keep the things I do? Some of it, I can look at and know, but most are WTF items that must have meant something at some point but I'll be damned if I remember why. Several promo coasters and gizmos from St. Patricks Day at bars that went out of business years ago... pictures cut from magazines... oh let's not even start on the magazines themselves, unless someone wants eight years' worth of Entertainment Weekly and Art News and Beckett trading-card price guides... Panini stickers... I still hate to throw out unused stickers, but the pro wrestling ones? Yeah those need to go... a dried-up corsage from Junior Prom, which I attended with a guy I didn't like then and like even less now... a box full of graduation invitations... photos of people I met once and promptly forgot... one Japanese Marlboro in the pack, saved because it had a charcoal filter and foreign writing... Mardi Gras masks, even though I haven't made it to Mardi Gras yet... a box of Pepsi bottlecaps, back when they had glass bottles and pry-off caps... all that crap is going to fill a dumpster tonight.
Oh, and then there's the baseball cards. *Sigh* My mom never threw mine out (she collected them too), but faced with the task of sorting and cataloguing and eBaying them, I almost wish she'd hauled 'em to Goodwill. The potential for one card among ten thousand being worth a couple hundred bucks is all that keeps them where they are, carefully stored in archival boxes, divided by brand and labeled by year. OCD does not run in this family, why do you ask? Packratting on a marginally organized scale is what we do, meaning we save stuff and almost always know where it is when we want it.
I told my husband the other day that what I'd love to do is have a mini-museum or nostalgia room in our future house to display the things we've decided to keep. Pop's bottles, my horses, his racing stuff, all those things that may or may not be valuable monetarily but meant enough to us to hang on to. I might briefly regret tossing certain things, but the older I get the more valuable storage space becomes and the more often I pass on things I'd formerly HAVE to have for this collection or that one.
For now, though, I'm limited to whatever amount will safely fit in the bed of the truck. And the redneck's idea of "safely" means it can be secured under a cargo net and two ratchet-straps and the truck will still fit the height restrictions of most underpasses. Whee... back to packin!
Grape Nehi still rocks. That is all.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Redneck Express Has Arrived
Jeff Foxworthy (whom I still swear spied on my family for his material) once said "Rednecks... there are ways to tell if you are one, and I are one!"
You might be a redneck if you have a deer head on the wall... that you personally didn't shoot.
You might be one if said deer head has been passed down 3 generations.
You definitely are one if the deer head was passed down on the WIFE's side of the family.
On our trip home, there will be a 10-point buck wearing sunglasses riding in the backseat of the pickup. Blow the Dixie horn if y'all see us now, y'hear? We'll be drinkin' YooHoo and eatin' pork rinds. Yeehaw!
You might be a redneck if you have a deer head on the wall... that you personally didn't shoot.
You might be one if said deer head has been passed down 3 generations.
You definitely are one if the deer head was passed down on the WIFE's side of the family.
On our trip home, there will be a 10-point buck wearing sunglasses riding in the backseat of the pickup. Blow the Dixie horn if y'all see us now, y'hear? We'll be drinkin' YooHoo and eatin' pork rinds. Yeehaw!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Vacation... Sort Of
A trip south to Mom's always involves fixing stuff, cleaning stuff, and of course eating, which is my favorite part. My second favorite part is running across things that tickle my funny bone.
Example 1: Stopped at a local gas station, where a couple of women were hanging around talking to the cashier. One of the women said "Hey, you wanna buy my car? It's a Mercedes that looks like a Buick." Tell me, where else in the WORLD would this be a selling point? (And yes, to those who have already asked, I did want to see it, because hey, Buicks rock and I AM from here after all.)
Example 2: Walked into grocery store, looking at the nice wooden signs over each department ("Bakery" "Deli" etc... I was specifically seeking the "Beer" section) and had to laugh. The store has a bona fide "Wieners" section. Someone actually ordered a fancy painted sign just for the hotdogs. And it's a chain store, so most likely there are other wiener sections out there. Judging from the clientele that late at night, "wieners" wasn't far off the mark.
Other things take some readjusting. Fast food here is never fast; in fact one could resort to sucking ketchup packets dry from sheer hunger before the #3 Combo one ordered was even in the prep stages. Or run out of gas/die from carbon monoxide poisoning, if one was foolish enough to think the drive-thru would be quicker.
Cruising is a dying art, but some of the locals keep it alive, mainly by driving their pimped rides side-by-side at 30 miles under the speed limit, effectively blocking everyone behind them, while they hang out the windows and have conversations with each other. Nobody does anything in a hurry here, by choice or not.
"Mullet" is not just a hairstyle, it's a food group. Mullet are fish, often sold at roadside markets next to shrimp and spots and sometimes crabs, all packed in plastic coolers with crude handwritten signs attached. And speaking of roadside stands, the work some people put into their "temporary" (by law) wooden booths would eclipse any trailer manufacturer. I saw one with an upholstered recliner, mini fridge, and air conditioner. The rest of the booth was hacked together from scrap wood so the outside would appear "non-permanent" but by the looks of it, Bubba Jenkins' momma had a pretty sweet setup for selling her peaches and corn. Non-permanent since 1982 is my guess.
Tomorrow we're off to the beach, or what passes for one hereabouts. Most of our beach has succumbed to erosion (Mom insists all our sand has washed to Fripp Island, increasing their marketable real estate) and the beach is only actually useable at low tide. Unfortunately it's also spiked with the jagged remains of palmetto trees and sometimes jellyfish. Nothing like stepping barefoot on a jelly to wake you up. And yet, we all still do the "AAAGH! HOT HOT HOT!!" barefoot run across the scorching sand instead of wearing flipflops like sane people. Sticking sizzling feet in the Atlantic and expecting steam to rise is part of the beach experience for us, like fried chicken and picking up sand dollars with our toes and sunburn and making lewd sand sculptures... oh wait, that last one might just be me.
Next week will be tame... we'll do some work around the house and pack the remainders of a lifetime of my crap into boxes (or a dumpster) and hopefully have time to get in some fishing. Last year was The Great Pink Toilet Adventure and so far nothing has come close to matching it this year. I'm not too optimistic... that one's gonna be hard to beat.
Boiled peanuts rock. That is all.
Example 1: Stopped at a local gas station, where a couple of women were hanging around talking to the cashier. One of the women said "Hey, you wanna buy my car? It's a Mercedes that looks like a Buick." Tell me, where else in the WORLD would this be a selling point? (And yes, to those who have already asked, I did want to see it, because hey, Buicks rock and I AM from here after all.)
Example 2: Walked into grocery store, looking at the nice wooden signs over each department ("Bakery" "Deli" etc... I was specifically seeking the "Beer" section) and had to laugh. The store has a bona fide "Wieners" section. Someone actually ordered a fancy painted sign just for the hotdogs. And it's a chain store, so most likely there are other wiener sections out there. Judging from the clientele that late at night, "wieners" wasn't far off the mark.
Other things take some readjusting. Fast food here is never fast; in fact one could resort to sucking ketchup packets dry from sheer hunger before the #3 Combo one ordered was even in the prep stages. Or run out of gas/die from carbon monoxide poisoning, if one was foolish enough to think the drive-thru would be quicker.
Cruising is a dying art, but some of the locals keep it alive, mainly by driving their pimped rides side-by-side at 30 miles under the speed limit, effectively blocking everyone behind them, while they hang out the windows and have conversations with each other. Nobody does anything in a hurry here, by choice or not.
"Mullet" is not just a hairstyle, it's a food group. Mullet are fish, often sold at roadside markets next to shrimp and spots and sometimes crabs, all packed in plastic coolers with crude handwritten signs attached. And speaking of roadside stands, the work some people put into their "temporary" (by law) wooden booths would eclipse any trailer manufacturer. I saw one with an upholstered recliner, mini fridge, and air conditioner. The rest of the booth was hacked together from scrap wood so the outside would appear "non-permanent" but by the looks of it, Bubba Jenkins' momma had a pretty sweet setup for selling her peaches and corn. Non-permanent since 1982 is my guess.
Tomorrow we're off to the beach, or what passes for one hereabouts. Most of our beach has succumbed to erosion (Mom insists all our sand has washed to Fripp Island, increasing their marketable real estate) and the beach is only actually useable at low tide. Unfortunately it's also spiked with the jagged remains of palmetto trees and sometimes jellyfish. Nothing like stepping barefoot on a jelly to wake you up. And yet, we all still do the "AAAGH! HOT HOT HOT!!" barefoot run across the scorching sand instead of wearing flipflops like sane people. Sticking sizzling feet in the Atlantic and expecting steam to rise is part of the beach experience for us, like fried chicken and picking up sand dollars with our toes and sunburn and making lewd sand sculptures... oh wait, that last one might just be me.
Next week will be tame... we'll do some work around the house and pack the remainders of a lifetime of my crap into boxes (or a dumpster) and hopefully have time to get in some fishing. Last year was The Great Pink Toilet Adventure and so far nothing has come close to matching it this year. I'm not too optimistic... that one's gonna be hard to beat.
Boiled peanuts rock. That is all.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Y Cant Kids Speel
I am a spelling snob.
No, not like those uber-annoying people who feel the need to correct every misspelled word in every forum post or chatroom... I only do that once in a while to virtual-elbowjab my friends. They're good sports about it. As I've said before, chat/instant messaging/etc is conversation on the fly and since I can't type fast for squat, I'm not about to get all hypocritical... in my chatworld, "and" becomes "nad" and "then" is "hten" more often than not. I usually blame my long fingernails or my malfunctioning shift key, but honestly? I just never learned to touch-type. (Aside: in chat last night, my typonese read "milk nad juice" and I nearly fell off the chair. Sometimes they're worth expanding upon, and other times I reeeeally don't wanna go there.)
I don't blog with perfect grammar either. Who talks like a college textbook? Pfft. I overuse ellipses, use extra punctuation, slang, and sometimes deliberate typos (cue LOLspeak... im in ur blog, steelin ur fotos!) because that's my casual language. I don't use spellcheck, though, and never will. It's wrong too often anyway.
However... last night, I crossed over to the dark side. My friend's teenage daughter wrote out a grocery list. I saw it lying on the table and on a whim, *gasp* I corrected it, like a teacher would with homework. I had to think a moment to figure out what rovola was (ravioli) but the rest were simple words that a 17-year-old should know. No, she's not disabled in any way, unless you count that growth that looks suspiciously like a cellphone sprouting from her hand. Therein lies the problem. She's grown up on textspeak. She wouldn't know an acronym from an anthill but if I sent her a text that read "Pk up C & brg 2 Ls lso grn shrt n shoz" she'd know to grab her little sister's green shirt and sneakers, pick sis up and take her to her friend's house after school. I may not have had that quite right, but you get the idea.
I read stuff on Facebook, craigslist, various forums and websites, and I'm always guaranteed at least one recoil moment when a college kid misuses an apostrophe or misspells a word ("I love there nacho's") and reading on, I discover he's a molecular biology major and I go WHUH? HOW?! And those moments, even without biology majors, are far too common.
There is a website that pokes fun at stupid craigslist ads. The site creator as well as the comment contributors will pick listings apart ruthlessly, tear down the author with any and all verbal ammo they can come up with... but they always notice and give props for proper spelling and grammar. It's *that* rare to see. Seriously. (Okay, so it IS craigslist, not high school composition class, so I shouldn't be using that as an example. Comp class is far more advanced. But this does happen all over teh innernetz, and it drives me batty.)
People of the Forums: Whatever point you are trying to make, whatever debate you are hotly arguing for or against, whatever cause you are championing is going to be written off (pun intended) if you can't properly execute simple language and writing skills. If you're just chitchatting, you get a pass on most things (see first paragraph). If you're trying to throw around five-dollar words in a Very Serious Post but can't spell five-letter words, I'm just going to skip over you and move on.
Without learning the basics, you might be the next person to do this:
You want fries with that?
No, not like those uber-annoying people who feel the need to correct every misspelled word in every forum post or chatroom... I only do that once in a while to virtual-elbowjab my friends. They're good sports about it. As I've said before, chat/instant messaging/etc is conversation on the fly and since I can't type fast for squat, I'm not about to get all hypocritical... in my chatworld, "and" becomes "nad" and "then" is "hten" more often than not. I usually blame my long fingernails or my malfunctioning shift key, but honestly? I just never learned to touch-type. (Aside: in chat last night, my typonese read "milk nad juice" and I nearly fell off the chair. Sometimes they're worth expanding upon, and other times I reeeeally don't wanna go there.)
I don't blog with perfect grammar either. Who talks like a college textbook? Pfft. I overuse ellipses, use extra punctuation, slang, and sometimes deliberate typos (cue LOLspeak... im in ur blog, steelin ur fotos!) because that's my casual language. I don't use spellcheck, though, and never will. It's wrong too often anyway.
However... last night, I crossed over to the dark side. My friend's teenage daughter wrote out a grocery list. I saw it lying on the table and on a whim, *gasp* I corrected it, like a teacher would with homework. I had to think a moment to figure out what rovola was (ravioli) but the rest were simple words that a 17-year-old should know. No, she's not disabled in any way, unless you count that growth that looks suspiciously like a cellphone sprouting from her hand. Therein lies the problem. She's grown up on textspeak. She wouldn't know an acronym from an anthill but if I sent her a text that read "Pk up C & brg 2 Ls lso grn shrt n shoz" she'd know to grab her little sister's green shirt and sneakers, pick sis up and take her to her friend's house after school. I may not have had that quite right, but you get the idea.
I read stuff on Facebook, craigslist, various forums and websites, and I'm always guaranteed at least one recoil moment when a college kid misuses an apostrophe or misspells a word ("I love there nacho's") and reading on, I discover he's a molecular biology major and I go WHUH? HOW?! And those moments, even without biology majors, are far too common.
There is a website that pokes fun at stupid craigslist ads. The site creator as well as the comment contributors will pick listings apart ruthlessly, tear down the author with any and all verbal ammo they can come up with... but they always notice and give props for proper spelling and grammar. It's *that* rare to see. Seriously. (Okay, so it IS craigslist, not high school composition class, so I shouldn't be using that as an example. Comp class is far more advanced. But this does happen all over teh innernetz, and it drives me batty.)
People of the Forums: Whatever point you are trying to make, whatever debate you are hotly arguing for or against, whatever cause you are championing is going to be written off (pun intended) if you can't properly execute simple language and writing skills. If you're just chitchatting, you get a pass on most things (see first paragraph). If you're trying to throw around five-dollar words in a Very Serious Post but can't spell five-letter words, I'm just going to skip over you and move on.
Without learning the basics, you might be the next person to do this:
You want fries with that?
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