Differences are more than chin deep.
They’re in our heads too.
I make fun of the silly things country people do and while they’re infrequent, I make fun of silly things city people do too.
But today, I’d like to share with you one of the biggest differences between people from cities and people from no where.
In the city, we learn at an early age to mind our business and not meddle in the lives of others. Sure, we read tabloid headlines and smut magazines as much as anyone else. But we don’t run around telling people how hung over we are and how we just can’t stomach curry like we used to.
But it’s more than that.
In the city, we don’t share the quirks and intricacies about ourselves that we find unflattering.
In the country, everyone knows all that about you. They know you were the pimply-faced kid in high school and they know your parents bought your back-to-school clothes second hand. But there, it doesn’t really matter.
In the country, men ask pregnant women questions like, “So, yer tits hurt yet?” and expect an honest answer.
Women berate their husbands in public and sometimes, they even play darts with their butts.
So, in the few months I’ve known Cowboy, I’ve tried to push his limits. How many relationships have you been in? Why didn’t they work out? What didn’t you like about them? What are your life’s ambitions? Why haven’t you conquered them yet? What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you think about religion? Who did you vote for? How do you feel about “Jon and Kate + 8?”
And he’s answered them. No hesitation. No sugar coating. Take it how you want, he practically says. This is who I am.
If I don’t like it, it’s better to know now right? I just find that so liberating.
Country people don’t limit their openness to pals, partners and girlfriends/boyfriends either. They share these facts... with CO-WORKERS. Letting the world AND your place of business know who you are, where you came from and not feeling ashamed... Laz-y Boys can’t rival that level of comfort.
So tomorrow I'm going to walk into work, announce my most recent bowel movement, and watch as my co-workers sigh in adoration. Can you handle that, rocking chair? Can you?
It’s us, but in dead animal form. But not really dead because they weren’t ever alive. Undead? No. That makes them sound like vampires. So not that. Fuck. I don’t know the word. Hey, how long can a title be? Because this seems excessive. Someone should stop me. Jesus. This is as bad as 280-character twitter. - Victor is finally home from Japan and I didn’t set the house on fire or eat any of our pets while he was gone. Yay for the small things! He always comes b...
5 hours ago