Sadly, this week, I lost my great-aunt, Bessie. Here she is last year during bike week in Daytona.
We, of course, want only the best for our loved ones. Uncle Ray Bob knows a guy who runs a 24-hour hurse service. He managed to trade a coon dog for the use of the hurse.
Rednecks grieve just as everyone else. We often gather with our family and friends to send our final farewells to the dearly departed. This is the family the day of Aunt Bessie’s funeral.
Funerals for rednecks are also seen as a time to celebrate life and enjoy the company of others. Here is my cousin Larlene and her fiancee’s mother’s sister’s ex-husands aunt’s beautician.
Get a few Milwaukee Lights in Uncle Delmont and Cousin Coy-and they get vicious with horseshoes.
A long day of grieving and drinking can take a toll on the body. Cletus, Aunt Bessie’s ex-boyfriend’s brother, was so over-come he couldn’t make it to his truck. So ends my Great-Aunt Bessie’s life.
A Redneck Tale.
Attention All Redneck Women.
I apologize for missing this piece of merchandise. Why was I kept in the dark for so long over this beautiful handbag? I wasn’t aware of the latest, (or not), fashion must have for all good little redneck women. I had to find out by observing two women, yes folks, two women, toting this sporty little number across a McDonald’s parking lot.
No need to worry about where you’re going to put those tampons! Introducing the Dale Earnhardt, Jr handbag, designed for you by the special folks at Nascar™. Stumped as to what to carry to your sister’s wedding? Concerned about how to conceal your blue eyeshadow while on your fishing date with Bob John? Worry no more. We all know red matches everything.
It’s A Squirrel Graveyard Out There.
As I drove the 35 miles to my mother’s house I noticed something. Squirrels. Squashed. On the road. Masses of them. Ok, not masses, but I counted 7 smashed squirrels. Squirrel suicide, or, mass murder? You decide.
Every neighbor and neighbors of neighbors were at my mom’s and her man-friend’s house today. Maybe it’s because it was sunny and 70-something out today. Gorgeous. Ate dinner, the men went outside, planted potatoes, while the women sat at the table talking. I am not joking. I shared a redneck moment with these people. I didn’t even know how potatoes were planted-until today. I think they planted about 100 pounds-I believe they’re getting ready for the end of the world because I have no idea who is going to eat 100 pounds of potatoes. Maybe they should go out and scrape up some of the dead squirrels too.
I had a serious post in mind-but I’ll skip it for today. Just some thoughts. Which seem to run continuously through my mind.
Happy Birthday From Marlboro.
This is something every redneck would love to see. I go out to get the mail-I find a small box with the Marlboro logo all over it. I open the box-to find- a greeting for my birthday. Ok… in the box is this metal thing, shaped like a credit card, with an oval hole towards one corner. I’m thinking what the hell is this-then I read the insert:
Birthdays are the time to grab the world by the horns..
And get the party started.
(Slide this bottle opener into your wallet or back pocket and you’re ready to
celebrate wherever the party breaks out.)
Alrighty then. To begin with, this so-called bottle opener is heavy. And metal. I really don’t want to slide it in my back pocket. And forget about putting it in my wallet, I doubt I could snap it shut if I did. One would think I’d get coupons for cigs. No. Apparently Marlboro believes that if you smoke-you also drink and once in a while need a bottle opener when you’re on the go to pop off the lid of your Budweiser. I believe this is called drinking and driving which can get one into some serious trouble. Or, public intoxication if you aren’t driving. If anyone wants a piece of redneck history-I’m going to auction it off. Starting bid is $1. No pushing or shoving, I know everyone is excited about such a piece of art. The pic is below. Yes, it is resting on my Hello Kitty throw.
