Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Tuesday, November 12, 2002

Boy, am I tired...

Still plugging away at my various exercises in futility, and found the following in my e-mail box courtesy of Osmondistan's own Nate McCord:

Some of you I know understand every item on this list... You know who you are... Nate

Only a true Southerner knows the difference between a "hissie fit" and a "conniption," and that you don't "HAVE" them, -- you "PITCH" them.
Even worse is to pitch a fit and fall back in it.
Only a true Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip greens, peas, beans, etc. make up "a mess."
Almost as much as a passle, a bit more than a whole heaping wad.
Only a true Southerner can show or point out to you the general direction of "yonder."
Also, true Southerners will give directions based upon landmarks which no longer exist, such as: "Head off down yonder a fur piece and turn right past where the old icehouse used to be." An actual example is the turn from Highway 280 onto State Road 147 in Lee County, Alabama which is the last stretch of road to Auburn. The spot is called "The Bottle," named for an old outdoor advertising display of a giant ketchup bottle which stood alongside the old diner. It hasn't been there since the late '50s. Everyone still calls it The Bottle, though. It's even marked as such on the official state highway map.
Only a true Southerner knows exactly how long "directly" is - as in: "Going to town, be back directly."
Usually, this means no stopping off on the way back for various activities.
Even true Southern babies know that "Gimme some sugar" is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl on the middle of the table.
Nor should any small child fall for the ploy of elderly, mustachioed aunts who say "Come here and let me give you a Yankee dime!" It ain't no dime, and Bruton's Scotch Snuff on your aunt's breath does not make for a very nice kiss.
All true Southerners know exactly when "by and by" is. They might not use the term, but they know the concept well.
Especially true when the stomach says it's time to eat, and MeeMaw and Aunt Till are still talking about how long the meat should cook.
Only a true Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of solace for a neighbor who's got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken and a big bowl of cold potato salad. (If the neighbor's trouble is a real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin'!)
Or a pecan pie. In fact, bring me one right now, and I'll make up a crisis to justify getting it.
Only true Southerners grow up knowing the difference between "right near" and "a right far piece." They also know that "just down the road" can be 1 mile or 20.
See Yonder, above.
Only a true Southerner both knows and understands the difference between a redneck, a good ol' boy, and po' white trash.
One should never be given liquor, one should never be given firearms, and one should never be given either. That's as much inside information as I'm willing to disclose.
No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.
Unless it's up on blocks by the mailbox, in which case it's used as a method of marking the entrance to the driveway.
A true Southerner knows that "fixin'" can be used as a noun or a verb.
As in, "I'm fixin' to start fixin' the car." Nate's e-mail also said it can be used as an adverb, but I can't figure that one out.
Only a true Southerner knows that the term "booger" can be a resident of the nose, a descriptive, as in "that ol' booger", or something that jumps out at you in the dark and scares you senseless.
Which may explain the constant use of the term during the All-Fired Axis of Weevil Scary Story Blogburst 2002. I also used to have a cat name Booger, a name given him because when he was a kitten he was such an ugly little booger.
Only true Southerners make friends while standing in lines. We don't do "queues," we do "lines," and when we're "in line," we talk to everybody!
Might as well.
Put 100 true Southerners in a room and half of them will discover they're related, even if only by marriage.
Only half?
True Southerners never refer to one person as "y'all."
Although you can say it to one person, as in "Are y'all coming for dinner?" meaning the person spoken to and all of the people in his house.
True Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.
Hot, buttered, no sugar, pinch of salt. Maybe some cheese, although any further additions such as bacon or sausage are somewhat suspect.
Every true Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that redeye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.
Well, not yet anyways...just wait.
When you hear someone say, "Well, I caught myself lookin' ... ," you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!
And I am the worst culprit.
Only true Southerners say "sweet tea" and "sweet milk." Sweet tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it - we do not like our tea unsweetened. "Sweet milk" means you don't want buttermilk.
Of course, it goes without saying that tea is meant to be served over ice. Hot tea is only tea halfway done.
And a true Southerner knows you don't scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say, "Bless her heart" and go your own way.
Well, true Southerners never scream--yell, holler, yelp, call hogs, etc., but screaming is so undignified. Especially when Grandmama might be packing a .45.

Anyway, thanks to Nate, and thanks for stopping by today. I am heading out, and will warn you that tomorrow will be similarly light in the bloggage department. Regulatory meeting early, then more stupid PowerPoint, then a funeral, then back to work, then church.

Did I mention I sure am sleepy?

Comments: Post a Comment

al.com - Alabama Weblogs

free hit counter
Visits since 12/20/2001--
so what if they're mostly me!

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't
Weblog Commenting by HaloScan.com