Little Miss Perfect?

I can’t believe I only just saw this show.  I had heard about pageants for little girls, but I never really realized the extent of what goes on behind the scenes.  It’s like dress up for adults! These poor girls, ages 4-10, are being paraded around the country by their obese and socially strange parents because it’s “fun” and a “great opportunity to spend more time with mommy.”  These little girls have spray tans, sets of fake teeth, outfits they should never wear but especially not before they’re 18, and wear more make up than a Dolly Parton transvestite.  It is disgusting.  Their mothers drag them from rehearsal to beauty parlors at all hours of the day while they’re crying and complaining that they’re tired and don’t want to do it.  What kind of parent can be so selfish that they will not listen to their crying child?  And then there are the judges.  No wonder so many girls in the South are anorexic and are ever so slightly screwed up a little in the head—these girls in the pageants have been judged on how pretty they are since they were old enough to walk!  Everyone needs to check out this show called Little Miss Perfect. 

God help the South.   

No Shave November

Thank God it is finally December.  For all of you who have never heard of “No Shave November”, good for you.  Before I came to the South, I had never heard of the epic events that is “No Shave November.”  It is the month in the year that guys get away with not shaving whatever amount of facial hair they have.  For men, November marks the time of the year they can be really manly men.  Funnily enough, only a select few know what the actual significant of “No Shave November” is.  In an attempt to raise awareness for prostate cancer, November was dedicated to men, just as October is dedicated to women by means of Breast Cancer Awareness month.  The deal was that men would get sponsored to not shave for an entire month.  The longer your beard and the longer you postponed shaving, the more money you raised for prostate cancer research.  However, like the game of telephone, the event was spread around, but the details and actual context were not.  What was meant to be a fundraising event for a cause is now a month dedicated to men being manly.  Whoopee.  It’s funny how women can easily spread around several events such as the “I like it on my….”, which was to show where women like to put their bags once they walk inside their homes, or the “Save the Ta-Ta’s” and men can’t even get the details right of something so simple.  But that’s another topic that I won’t get into. 

Now you can technically celebrate not shaving any month of the year with “Don’t Shave December”, “Just Don’t Shave January”, “Forget to Shave February”, “Masculine March”, “Atrocious April”, “Manly May” and so on.  April definitely describes the event in the best way though.  The amount of trash stashes and horrible, HORRIBLE, untamed beards I see around here are so atrocious that I feel obliged to buy every man on campus a razor and then pay them to shave.  The worst is that a lot of guys can’t actually grow full beards yet.  Do they honestly think girls can’t tell that that little patch of hair growing on the bottom left side of their face doesn’t stretch to the other?  What are we, blind?  It looks like they got distracted shaving and then just forgot to finish….really?  Another thing, I don’t want to see you stroking your scratchy beard at all hours of the day.  What if girls decided not to shave any part of their bodies and we started playing with our unshaved underarm hair?  Still think we’re so attractive?  NOPE. 

 

Man on the left: ew.

  

No you don't look nearly as cool as you think you do.

 

............Need I say more?

So please, if you are a male and you are reading this blog, do no participate in any of these events.  I will not think of you as any less of a man, in fact I will probably find you way more attractive than any of your friends (at the time).  The whole thing is so incredibly stupid and frankly, a little grotesque.  I propose to make the months “Necessary to Shave November”, “Definitely Shave December”, “Just Shave January”, “Fabulously Shaven February”, and so on.  I really think the world will be a better place.   

What's in Tennessee?

I went to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee a couple of weeks ago.  Doesn’t that place sound appealing?  Using word #8 on my Southern dictionary post, it was clear that we were going to the boondocks.  The drive there took about six hours, but it got dark so quickly that you couldn’t really see a lot of what was outside.  The house was beautiful, completely secluded in the mountains with amazing views.  What a weekend.  I don’t want to talk about the weekend though.  I want to discuss the drive back to Charleston.  We left at noon and for some reason the drive back took about eight hours.  What do you do when you’re driving in the South for eight hours straight? Look out the window.  Downtown Pigeon Forge was hilarious in itself.  Thank God there was so much traffic when we were leaving town because it looked like Las Vegas, but for children.  I saw some of the most elaborate miniature golf courses, laser tag arenas, magic shows, restaurants and light shows I have ever seen.  If I were five-years-old, I would have thought I was in the greatest magical fantasy world and would have never ever wanted to leave.  Good thing I’m not five and realize these freaky places are owned and operated by a special sort of people who either still live with their parents, or have never left Pigeon Forge, Tennessee before.      

Have you ever wondered where those random items sold on TV are sold in person?  In stores along the highway on the drive from Pigeon Forge to Charleston, that’s where.  There were countless signs on the highways saying,  “As seen on TV!” or “ We sell the Seat Saver Here!” Also, incase you get hungry at any point you have several options of deep fried fun-filled fast food restaurants to choose from.  Your options include, but are not limited to, Cracker Barrel, Corkys Bar-B-Q, Fatmans Pizza, Golden Corral Steak Buffet and Bakery, Burger King, Chick-Fil-A, McDonalds, Waffle House, Davy Crockett Travel Center and Restaurant, and so many more.  If you don’t die from a heart attack at any one of these places, you should definitely stop at the one of the knife museums or take a ride on one of the helicopters owned by Bob, Mick, Sal, or John—They’re top notch.  It was the first time that I ever drove into Charleston thinking I was finally back to normal.  What has become of my life?

A Brief Encounter with Normality

I just came back from a trip to New York City. I stepped off the plane on Tuesday night and was mildly shocked by the thirty-degree decrease in temperature.  I think I’ve been living in South Carolina for too long.  I was greeted by the hustle and bustle of New York, immediately being pushed (pushed, shoved, same thing) ever so slightly out of the way by people trying to get somewhere.  Sigh.  I’ve missed these people.  I felt it necessary to pretend I was a local and shoved back when one woman tried to pass me on the moving sidewalk.  Don’t underestimate me woman, I will cut you.  Once I made it outside of the airport, I had to play the dumb blonde role for a quick tick since I was utterly lost and my sister was already angry that I hadn’t arrived when she had. 

            “Hey! Hey! You look lost sweetheart (pronounced ‘sweet-HAArt’) what’s a beautiful angle like you lookin’ for?”

I love New York.

            “Haha, how embarrassing,” quick hair flip, “I just have no idea what terminal I’m in, do you know where we are right now?” After the nice young man informed me I was in terminal A, he carried my bag outside and I eventually found my sister. 

            “What do you feel like for dinner?” It’s 9:30pm.  Dinner? This late?  Yes, please!

            “CHINESE FOOD!!!” I love Chinese food.  Dumplings, fried rice, kung pao chicken, spicy beef—everything.  Charleston has many absolutely to die for restaurants with the best food you have ever had, but Chinese is not their specialty.  In fact, there should be a law that no one can serve Chinese food in South Carolina.  If they could, they would deep-fry the bottle of soy sauce and make a dish out of it.  Seriously, it’s disgusting.  New York knows how to make Chinese food though.  Oh yes, China Town, here we come.  One of the girls who went to dinner with us speaks Mandarin and totally hooked us up—awwwesooommmme.  I went to bed that night on an uncomfortable blow up mattress (which, of course, means I slept on the hard wooden floor that eventually completely deflated) feeling full of deliciousness.

            The next day we went shopping.  I laughed when my sister told me I would need to wear another sweater or layer because it would be cold out.  Please, I’m from San Francisco, it’s always cold there, I can handle a little chill. 

            Twenty minutes later.

            NO I CAN’T.  ABORT.  GO BACK TO THE APARTMENT!  I NEED EVERYTHING!

            After I was properly dressed, I told the freezing cold wind to kiss my covered ass, hands, legs, feet, arms, face and head, and then we went on an adventure.  I had forgotten what it was like to be around people who walk so quickly.  The rush of the wind through my hair as I strutted my stuff down the streets of Manhattan felt incredible.  I belong in a big city like New York.  It was interesting to see what everyone was wearing there too. I had dressed myself in an outfit that would have been considered kind of edgy in Charleston and my sister, the hipster, turned to me and told me I looked really Southern.  I was wearing cowboy boots, skinny jeans, a loose shirt with a tank under, and a pea coat.  In NYC, everyone was wearing heavy winter coats, scarves, non-cowboy boots, gloves, hats, and yet they all still looked so fashionable.  Note to self: when dressing for cold weather, there is no excuse not to still look good.  I saw boys wearing bow ties, except they were super sized and worn with plaid shirts and skinny jeans with dress shoes.  I saw women wearing beautiful Hermès scarves, tall stiletto boots and fur coats.  Needless to say, I wasn’t in South Carolina anymore.  I ate at hipster cafés that served breakfast all day (yes!!!!), walked through Central Park, paid $10 for a crepe, made fun of people ice skating, shopped A LOT, and saw the new Harry Potter movie among other things.  What a great week.  The drive to the airport on Sunday felt a little surreal, like I couldn’t believe I was actually leaving this incredible city. 

            I arrived back in Charleston at 3:30pm and it was 70 degrees outside.  I swear this is not a real place.

Two Crazy Kids

I apologize for the delay in new posts, but I’ve been on vacation and figured that the blog would just have be put on hold. 

On Monday I interviewed two of my very good friends from opposite sides of the spectrum who happen to be dating.  In one corner we have Tommy* from New York (accent and all).  Tommy is the middle child of five, is tall, loud, extremely sociable and outgoing, and an all around great guy.  In the opposite corner we have Laney* from a small town in South Carolina.  Laney is the oldest of three, very blonde, quiet at first but actually full of personality, and is one of the funniest people I have ever met.  One would think the two of them together would be an unlikely match, but they actually work extremely well together.  Their diverse qualities are no doubt due to growing up in such opposite places in the United States but after overcoming stereotypes and initial impressions, Tommy and Laney now make a great team. 

Laney’s first impression of Tommy in English class was that he was really obnoxious since he was loud, always wore “that stupid Yankees hat” and always talked about Yankees/Red Sox baseball.  After getting to know Tommy a little better, she realized he wasn’t obnoxious at all, although apparently he is still loud and opinionated at times.  Similarly, Tommy’s first impression of Laney was that she was really hard to understand (because of her strong accent), “quiet and kind of gave [him] dirty looks [hes] guess[es] cause she didn’t like Yankees fans.”  Surprisingly neither Tommy nor Laney attends church, and both consider themselves liberal democrats.  Not so surprisingly, Tommy would rather live in a metropolitan area and Laney in a small town.  Both love Charleston for its classic southern charm but also slightly more progressive ideals.  Tommy describes it as a “glorified town” that is probably smaller than the area in NY he is from, while Laney believes it to be a pretty big city, especially compared to the small town she grew up in. 

Growing up, both Tommy and Laney played well to their stereotypical roles in their respective states.  Tommy spent the majority of his childhood playing football and lacrosse, drinking with friends on the weekends, and hanging out with his close-knit Irish family.  Laney spent her days cheerleading (or as an “athletic supporter to be politically correct” according to Tommy) for her local high school, watching the Gamecocks (a football team), playing and hunting with her brothers in the woods and drinking with friends when there wasn’t anything else to do (which was often).  Tommy’s favorite drink is whiskey and Laney’s Vodka, although she’s “not aloud to drink it” and both really like beer.  Both agreed that the biggest difference between them was simply their accents.  Laney noted that Tommy was “a little more aggressive” to which Tommy replied saying, she’s “a little more shy.”  Laney would rather hang out with a group of people she knows, rather than going to a random party and trying to meet new people.  Tommy, on the other hand, just wants to have a good time and doesn’t feel the need to know people somewhere to achieve that goal.  

In regard to marriage and relationships, Laney and Tommy actually had differing opinions, although they didn’t see it themselves.  Tommy’s parents were married at the young ages of 24 and 29, and Laney’s at 28 and 36, respectively.  Laney wants to be married by the time she’s 24 or 25 but believes that she would need to date the man for at least a year and live with him for a period of time before she marries.  Tommy hesitated a little longer before answering, “it depends,” and kind of left it at that.  I can only assume that Tommy would want to play up his role of ‘the man of the house’ and have a steady job and income, a proper place to live, and have dated his wife-to-be for a longer period of time than a year to assure that he wouldn’t add to today’s statistic that 50% of all marriages end in divorce.  I think their differing opinions about commitment are cultural differences rather than personal differences.  I know several Southern girls who are my age at Charleston who are either engaged or already married with children.  For that reason, Laney’s response that she wanted to wait until she was 24 or 25 to get married actually surprised me.  I believe Laney’s response to wait until at least her mid-twenties to get married is actually quite a liberal approach to such a traditional concept in the South.  But then again, Laney is pretty awesome, so I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.

Keep doing what you’re doing you two. 





*These names have been changed for their protection.

Dance it Off

Unfortunately, I have a lot of homework tonight and am unable to write about some new stories. Here is a little video about another key Southern phrase though, "raise a ruckus", which translates to getting wild. I dare you to try to jump up and down as quickly as the guy with the guitar does.

Old Crow Medicine Show: "Raise A Ruckus"

Words of the Wise

It’s mind-boggling why these words are not in the dictionary.  Enjoy.

1. Lollygag: you’re just bullshitting.  You’re procrastinating.
2. Around your ass to get to the elbow: you go completely out of your way to get where you’re going to.
3. Y’all: you all. the diamond phrase of the south.  “It’s the most beautiful word you’ve ever heard”
4. Yins: “y’ins”—translates as “your things”
5. Youngins: your children or your babies
6. Yur: you are
7. Bo: you can say that could be your friend.  It could be an acquaintance.  Like “hey you!”  It’s an attention grabber.
8. Boondocks (boonies): in the middle of nowhere
9. Twisted: drunk
10. Yankees: talking about anyone above the Mason-Dixon line.  This word can also pretty much refer to anyone who doesn’t live in the South.
11. Like pea’s and carrots: you have a lot in common or you go well together.
12. Bar-b-que: Unlike most Americans, Southerners refer to a BBQ as the very slow process of cooking food.  An example would be of pulled pork.
13. Cookout: cooking event of hotdogs and hamburgers
14. Bless your heart or God bless you:  Translation: I’m sorry that you have so many problems but I have no sympathy for you.
15. Stupider: dumber
16. Deddy: daddy. 
17. Mamma: mom
18. I’m gonna take her home: you know what that means
19. Flippers: what little baby pageant girls wear to make it look like they have a full set of teeth
20. Tennessee Tea: whiskey
21. Sweet tea: Tea with LOTS of sugar
22. Wudder: Water
23. Shooting shotguns: the 4^th of July
24. Hush puppies: breaded cornbread to eat
25. Moonshine: homemade liquor
26. Blue gums: racist term for black people
27. “Pretty is what pretty does”: if you don’t act pretty, you’re not.
28. Man upstairs: God or Jesus
29. Code blue: coors light, which you call “vintin’”
30. Ain’t: do not
31. War of northern aggression: civil war
32. Redneck: need I explain?
33. Rib: girl
34. Lady girl: girl
35. “Bouss”: boss
36. Magnolia free: “dime piece”—a really hot girl, a “10”
37. “Meh”: I don’t know, but southern people say it a lot.  It’s non-committal
38. Buggy: shopping cart
39. “The business”: sex
40. M’erican: an American
41. “Aess-hole”: asshole

TGIF

IT'S FRIDAY!!!! I will undoubtedly be singing along to this song at some point tonight with a lot of people probably in a bar. Welcome to my life.

Ladies and Gentlemen

Charleston has a broad mix of people.  We have a few hipsters, some hippies, the surfers who are not to be confused with the skateboarders, sorority girls, prepsters, and last but not least, the frat stars.  Fraternity boys are always from the South.  Their outfits are complete with Southern Tide croakies on their Ray Ban sunglasses, seersucker shorts, Southern Proper belts, button down Ralph Lauren shirts, bow ties, and top-siders with no socks.  They wear Easter pastels year round and if they are pledging, they might have a neon fanny pack below their developing beer belly guts. They have a sizable confederate flag hanging as the focal point of their living rooms, which you best not negatively comment on if you know what’s good for you.  These men are today’s sad version of Southern gentlemen. They pride themselves on how much they can drink and how many women they sleep with.  What happened to chivalry?  Opening doors, pulling out chairs, walking on the outside of the sidewalk—where is that?  I asked a boy one time at a party where all the supposed southern gentlemen were at this school.  He hocked a loogie, which is disgusting in itself, and replied “what do you mean? We’re all f***in’ southern gentlemen here, we’re Kappa Sigs!” Oh, excuse me, how did I not see that?  So because I clearly didn’t understand what it truly meant to be a real “Southern Gentleman”, I did a little research.  Here is what I found:

Today’s Southern Gents

·      Love football more than life itself.

·      Drink Jack and coke or shots of whisky or bourbon.

·      Are adept at having at least two girl friends at once without allowing the girls to know.

·      Must be able to look like a complete idiot but appear to have the utmost confidence.

·      Must curse profusely, especially in front of girls.

·      Appear to genuinely care about what the girl they’re talking to is saying while they are checking out the girl sitting three seats away.  Adding such phrases as “you’re so right” and “yeah, me too” would suffice.

·      Are loud and rowdy at all times.  If you’re not trying to fight someone, you aren’t having a good enough time.  Man points if you actually fight someone.  Extra man points and a beer on your “bro” (pronounced ‘bra”) if you win the fight.

·      Talk the talk and walk the walk.  These boys work the southern drawl and slow paced walk because it looks and feels so good. 

·      Say ma’am a lot.  It at least sounds respectful.

·      Know how to sing and play guitar.  There is nothing girls like better than getting serenaded at night after they’re had a few drinks and are thinking that that country song could not possibly have been written for anyone else.  Easy.  So easy.

·      Compliment girls often enough so that they feel good, but spread them out enough so that each one seems special.  Tell her she looks beautiful or that you like that weird looking shirt she’s wearing—you can’t see the shape of her body and it’s a terrible color, but at least it’s low cut. 

·      Balance acting like a complete asshole and the sweetest person you have ever met.  That way, you can get away with more.

I learned that the biggest difference between Northern guys and Southern guys wasn’t exactly a difference in upbringing with different standards.  People view the southerners as being far superior to the northerners for manners.  I disagree.  Southern boys may have a few manners drilled into their heads, but it doesn’t mean anything if their actions aren’t sincere.  In fact they are simply using their many charming qualities to manipulate and seduce women at all times.  Northern guys do the same thing, but they are not as good at hiding their true intentions.  So I ask you, which would you prefer? A Southern gentleman or a Northern man? 






Shoutout to the ginger locked one for tonight's topic.  If anyone has questions about Southern customs that they want addressed, please don't hesitate to contact me about it.  I'll see if I can delve further into any questions or concerns you may have and shed some light on the answers.

All About Steve

I remember my first time going to Walmart.  What a glorious day that was.  I met an inimitable young man there who was such a gem.  My mother and I asked him if he knew where the lamps where.  He grabbed my hand and we began frolicking through the store, weaving in and out of aisles of toilet paper, kitchen supplies, and overweight people who were dressed so nicely. We finally arrived at the electrical units and he reached for his favorite one.  His name was Steve.  The lamp was just right.  It was a desk lamp that could be perfectly situated on any flat surface and had three settings. He said I would look perfect in its light. Sigh.  He proceeded to whip out his outdated cell phone and asked if I had a Facebook. Steve was such a charmer.  It’s too bad I was in my right mind and lied and said “No, I’m not very good with technology…hah…ha…stupid me…damn.”  I think we really could have had something.

Steve was the very first Southern boy I met in South Carolina.  He proceeded to follow me around the store occasionally popping out at me saying “PEEK-A-BOO!”  I would laugh half-heartedly and say, “…you got me!”  It’s amazing the kind of people you meet in a store like Walmart.  Unfortunately, it was my first experience.  I can’t believe I never thought to go to a giant discount store for fun before.  I don’t know if anyone has ever visited the ‘People of Walmart’ website, but if you haven’t, you should forget the website and just come to South Carolina.  You don’t necessarily have to go a Walmart though, Target makes for great people watching in SC too.  There is a woman who works at one of the registers who always has a different elaborate hair-do.  I remember one time her hair was situated in literally a beehive complete with honeycomb sides and a few words written on the back.  My first question is how does one go about situating your hair so that there is writing in it?  And honeycombs??  My second question is how does one sleep with that kind of hair-do and not mess it up?  She had the same hair-do for a good couple of weeks, how did she not mess it up? That’s just impressive.

Moral of the story: if you enjoy people watching and meeting new friends for life, go to a large store that sells discounted items.  Preferably in the South.  Maybe one day you can meet someone like Steve and live happily ever after.

Also, enjoy the photo, it’s a pretty good representation of the kinds of people you might meet if you’re lucky enough. 

Tomorrow’s post will explain the components of a true “Southern Gentleman.”

Heat, Humidity, Large Insects and Cindy

Everyone always asks me why I decided to come to the South.  As a girl from one of the most liberal and beautiful cities in the continental United States, people are always surprised that I chose to move.  Why would I leave the perfect state that is California and wonder over and down to a place that is known to be extremely conservative, racist, and uneducated?  I simply wanted to be with all my fellow blonde people…duh.  I’m kidding, I promise.  The truth is that I wanted a different experience.  I never thought I would ever be a “free, wandering soul”, but as time goes on, I find myself seeking out new experiences and different people because I genuinely believe it makes me a more complete person.  Despite what I may say in this blog, there are a lot of wonderful people and places in the South that everyone should explore at some point in their lives.  I want to make clear that I think there is a fine line between bashing the Southern lifestyle and just laughing about some of its charms and I hope I do not cross that line and offend anyone.  With that being said, let’s get to it!

A little over a year ago I stepped off a plane and into the sweltering thick and sticky cloud of air that would besiege me for the next four months.  I can honestly say that I have never sweat more in my life nor has my hair ever curled so much.  Walking outside became an ordeal.  No matter what I tried, I couldn’t escape the heat or those horrible mosquitoes that wouldn’t leave my legs alone!  There I was, walking to classes, a lowly freshman in college, trying my best to look half as pretty as the five-foot something, blonde, tan, model-skinny girls, and as I’m sitting down in my seat I’m wiping the sweat off my forehead and peeling my shirt from my back.  I still don’t understand why the nine guys in my class of thirty didn’t immediately ask me to date them considering how amazing I looked.  Clearly their loss.

My roommate was quite a character.  We had only emailed each other a few times over the summer so I only knew a few things about her before I actually met her.  I distinctly remember her referring to her lack of ability to using the new email system as “learning how to work this bitch.”  Here are some of the most memorable facts about Cindy*:

1.     She was from Maryville, Tennessee.  If anyone knows anything about this place, that is shocking.  Maryville is in the middle of nowhere and has little to offer.  If you are reading this and you are from Maryville, Tennessee, I am sorry for you.

2.     Her boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend as of a few days before school started) was a 36-year-old pizza delivery boy with a 9-year-old son.  She met him at work J.

3.     Her accent was so strong that there were times I could not understand what she was saying.

4.     She was apparently extremely depressed (no kidding) and I would often times come back to our room to find her crying, which I found very awkward and sad.

Thank God I convinced her to join a sorority, because if she hadn’t I would have seriously been worried for her safety.  Once she got over her initial strange phase, she became a much more normal person…normal for her anyway.  I was really, genuinely, slightly disappointed when she told me she HAD to move into her sorority house because she became part of executive committee.  It wasn’t until I realized my dorm was incredibly haunted that I began to wish I had someone else in the room with me.  I also really missed her whenever I saw cockroaches in my room that I was definitely too afraid to kill.  She was used to them, being from the South and all, and didn’t mind killing them.  Alternatively, I ran away from them screaming like a normal person would.  I remember one time I was late for class because a cockroach wouldn’t let me out of the bathroom.  It was traumatic. 

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s story about my first time at Walmart.

*Cindy is a fictional name that has been changed for her protection.

A Cracking Introduction

Hello!
Welcome to my blog about living in the South.  Since I have spent many years living with my overprotective (beautiful, caring and wonderful) mother who encourages me to share as little to no information on the Internet as possible, I have decided to start a blog that happens to be open to the world.  And why shouldn't it be?! Who wouldn't want to hear about bar brawls between grown men with tattoos and cut off shirts because someone turned off Taylor Swift?  Unless you have a horrible sense of humor, EVERYONE should want to hear about that.  I will try to post new material every day (yes, there really is that much to talk about), but if you're dying for some kind of connection to me, I encourage you to look at the weather gadget I attached at the bottom of the page.  Look at the temperature and just...take it in.

Happy reading!