Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Tag! I'm It!

I've been tagged by Evel. (If you don't read her blog, you should. She's hysterical. Ever wonder what those tech support people are really thinking when you call about your messed up computer? She will tell you! And you know what? You sound like a total idiot.)

My job here today is to tell you 8 tidbits of info about me. I bet I have already done this tag....and surprisingly, I haven't told you everything about me. SHOCKER! This tag came at a good time, since I have lots going on, yet nothing which would entitle an entire post. Here goes.

Oh, heads up. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip #1.

1. I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. For a legitimate reason, this time. I have been informed by my gyno that there is too much protein in my urine, and so I have to go back to the office and let them insert who-knows-what into you-know-where so they can make sure my kidneys are working properly. Fuckfuckfuckityfuckfuck. They think I am not peeing into the cup correctly and I am contaminating my own urine samples with excess protein from who knows what. It wouldn't be a surprise if this is true, as they have a 12-step process for peeing into the cups there. You need a PhD to follow their procedure. Anyway, using a catheter is a fail-proof way of seeing if the problem is my idiocy or my kidneys. The only reason I am volunteering to cooperate with this whole catheter idea is because I know it might be preventing a future kidney stone. Now that you have read this, I know you are thinking one of the following:
A) Ouch!
B) Ew!
C) This sounds like a job for Vicodin! or
D) *raises hand, as if to ask a question in class* Um, but why does the gyno care about that hole?

To which I reply: Exactly!!!!

2. Further proof that I did indeed make a 4.0 in library school (aka "The Place Where You Learn How to Be a Stalker and Get Paid for It"): I found Cute Neighbor's myspace page yesterday. I found it because I found out his last name through public records. Along with the full names of all my neighbors. And some details about Hot Neighbor's divorce. And his driving record. And where he used to live. But whatever. That's basic stuff. *raises hand in swearing manner* I promise never to use my powers for evil purposes. But if you want me to do some stalking for you, I charge $25/hour for my services (see #3, below).

3. I am trying to sell Toby. Because I get these things called "bills" in my "mailbox". And it's either sell the dog or sell my body at this point. And please, no sympathy for the dog. He should have thought about this before he chewed off my windowsill. And pooped all over my house.

4. Sometimes I geek out WAAAAAY too much. Examples:

A)I was just on Netflix, reviewing my queue. I had forgotten that once I discovered the "documentaries" section on Netflix, I had gone totally crazy: history, science, pop culture, animals, foreign cities, diseases, religions, art, you name it. For some reason, though, the following must have sounded interesting to me: The Natural History of the Chicken. Whaaaaaaaa???
B) And now that I'm going to NYC, I am entirely too excited about it, and have checked out 3 travel guides from the library. I'm going to look over those before I even get on the plane. I just put an 8 volume "History of NYC" documentary at the top of my Netflix queue. And read up on all the well-known NYC neighborhoods in Wikipedia. (You can quiz me, even!) And I'm working on my "First Trip to NYC" Soundtrack. Today I'm going to see if I really can get tickets to Spamalot. (Ok, you know and I know that is impossible, but I am curious to see just how much it would cost.) It is probably the ONLY musical I would ever get excited to see....ok, I just looked it up. Some tickets are as low as $36. Who knew???? I am seriously out of control, people!!!
C) I think I might spend this afternoon going back through all my posts and editing my post labels. (Just having typed that, I'm not too surprised about this dry spell I'm having....jeez. *sighs and rolls eyes*)

5. I'm really good about taking other people's advice and learning from others' mistakes. Example: MJ says Times Square is a royal pain in the neck and sucks. I believe her. So I will not be visiting this famous landmark. Unless it's because I am going to Spamalot. (Besides, um, what the hell do tourists do there, anyway? Look at the big lit-up signs??? Big deal. Send me a postcard, you know?) Some people call it "blind trust", I call it "never having to hear 'I told you so'."

6. When I go to Vermont on this upcoming trip, it will be the farthest north I've ever been. There'd better not be any snow. And I want to see a Ben & Jerry's on every corner!

7. When I was home at The Czarina's recently, I was helping her clean the house. The wall by the stairs has a bunch of old framed family documents and pictures (diplomas, paintings, etc.) hanging on it. I was looking at them while I dusted. One of the framed items is a promotional brochure from my great-great-grandfather's dentistry practice, dating back to about the 1880s. (If you knew my family, it would not surprise you in the least that we not only saved that, but also framed it.) Now, I knew that side of my family was from upstate New York, so I figured he was a dentist somewhere in northern New York. But according to this brochure, his office was located on W. 151st St., NYC! Cool, huh? All this time, I thought I had no NYC connections. I asked MJ if we would have time to maybe go see the building, but she pointed out that 151st street is in Harlem, and it might not be a good idea. Also, it's hella out there, almost in the Bronx.

8. I just found out this week that I type 65 words per minute.

Ok, I am supposed to tag 8 people.....but it's lunchtime, and I gotta go. If you want to do it, knock yourself out!

Monday, June 25, 2007

Green Acres

Greetings, readers! Before I recount my travels to you, I have to share some good/exciting news. The night before I left town, I mustered up the courage to knock on Cute Neighbor's door and ask for some help with my air filter. He gladly helped me out. And we ended up talking in my kitchen for an hour! Woot! Here is what I learned:

1. He has the coolest job -- he conducts extensive background checks for the military. He's not in the military, though. "Did you tell him you're a stalker, too?" E asked when I told her. Har har.

2. He completely geeks out when it comes to ghost stories and ghost shows on tv, just like I do. "He had me at 'ghost stories'," I told MJ and KT.

3. He is my age and from a small town here in SC. Also, no mention of a girlfriend. He gave the impression that he's a workaholic, and I've never seen a girl at his house. So the signs are good.

4. He really liked the cookies I made, and is interested in coming over for Lasagna Night this weekend, when I make it for all of my friends. Woot!

Aren't you proud of me?? I think I got my mojo back or something. We talked about lots of stuff, but those are the highlights. We will see how it goes this weekend. Yay!

I have returned to my more urban home. It's nice to be home in Cola town. Where it doesn't take 45 minutes of driving before you see a stoplight. Where you don't have to put on bug spray to get the mail, because the mailbox is a 7 minute walk away. Where grocery stores sell cilantro. I am not making this up.

On Monday night, I was making dinner for The Czarina and Smurf, so I had to drive into town (30 minutes or so away) and get ingredients. One of which was cilantro. Now, you might not think it would be an unusual thing. In alone, there are over 200 recipes calling for cilantro. Many Mexican dishes call for cilantro. I mean, it's not like I was looking for kumquats or persimmons. Anyway, I went to three grocery stores, and finally found ONE bunch. The first 2 stores didn't even sell it AT ALL. This completely blew my mind. I mean, I know some people absolutely hate it, but to not even sell it? Come on!

But enough about cilantro. I'm sure by now, you can see that my hometown is not nearly as civilized as I would like. Which is the main reason I don't live there. That, and it's also where The Czarina lives. More than 5 days of Czarina time makes me want to go postal.

And I was there for 7 days.

So yes, it's good to be home.

Highlights from my trip (and true to form, I took no pictures. Sorry! I'm not a picture person!):

1. Got to see NYC Girl, whom I've been friends with since the 1st grade. She and her mother are on a mission to get me to move to NYC. I have to's a tempting idea. And not because of the crazy dream I had, either! She lives on the edge of Chinatown and might have an extra bedroom in her apartment soon. But more on this in a minute...

2. I got to see some other elementary school friends. While we can all hang out and have fun, I'm really only still good friends with NYC Girl. So she and I decided not to go to the "after-party" at their hotel room. We had a good time just hanging out with each other.

3. I bought a bedspread and shams for my bed at the awesome furniture store in my hometown. They look a lot like this. Although I'm broke, the prices were hard to beat, and the white will look nice against my green bedroom walls. Then, the next day, we went to Richmond, where I got an adorable black cotton shirtdress from Ann Taylor, one of my favorite stores-- I tried to find a picture of it for you, but couldn't. Then, at Crate & Barrel, Czarina spotted this table on sale. And since she is such a nice Mommy, she got it for me. I really needed a table in my living room, and it will look great. I have to wait for her to bring it down with her, though, because it wouldn't fit in my car.

Yes, you read that correctly. She is visiting me. Next week. I will be maxed-out on Mom time, for sure. *rolls eyes* Don't get me wrong, I love my mom. It's just that The Czarina is somewhat of a......control freak. And she really likes to control me. This is the source of most of our disagreements. But I'm getting off-topic.

4. I got to see the P family. I just love them to death. (They are our friends whose house burned down, and whose daughter is pregnant and almost died. My parents and Mr. & Mrs. P are/were very close and all of us kids grew up together.) Anyway, the daughter is doing fine and will be having a baby in 3 weeks. I got to meet her boyfriend (the baby daddy) and he's a really nice guy. The parents are getting ready to move into their rebuilt house. So they are hanging in there, and things are looking up.

5. The day of the party, Sammy escaped from a hole in the screen porch and decided to disappear on me. I completely freaked out, and started walking around yelling for him. After searching unsuccessfully for a half hour, I began to cry. The Czarina thought I should check for messages on my cell phone, since Sammy's tag has my number on it. I was relieved to learn some neighbors up the road had grabbed him and were holding him for me. It turns out that Sammy had walked about 2 miles up the busy highway near Czarina's house. It's a miracle he wasn't turned into an asphalt pancake by one of the many big rig logging trucks that go barreling up and down that road. Sammy was locked in the basement for the rest of the day after that!

6. The party was fun, and I got to see my siblings and even more family friends. I met the 40 year old The Czarina was trying to fix me up with. He was good looking and not a dork, which I have to give her credit for. But he had a Miami Vice vibe going on. As in, Don Johnson. Which honestly, kind of skeeved me out. We didn't talk very much.

7. Everyone seemed to be trying to talk me into moving. Despite the fact that I just bought a house and that I have lots of friends down here, and haven't really expressed any serious interest in moving anytime soon. I am wondering if The Czarina is behind this. In any case, one person was trying to talk me into moving to DC, another to Richmond and another to NYC (NYC Girl's mom is on a mission, I am telling you!). They all made very good cases--these are all cities I think I'd enjoy living in. And I have to say, I am chewing over these ideas. You might even say I am moderately serious about it. My family has a tendency to be fairly nomadic, and I am no different. It's not all that unusual for us to move halfway across the country suddenly. Or to visit Europe and never come back, as my aunt did. I've been here for 5 years, and I am starting to get the "Been there, got the t-shirt" feeling. Columbia is one of those places that doesn't seem to change all that much. I might be ready for a new stomping ground.

8. This brings me to my next little update tidbit. I'm going to NYC in about 2 weeks!!!! YAY!!! I have never been there, and I'm really excited. MJ, KT and I are meeting up with the Rat Pack and hanging out in the city for a day or so (Rocky just moved to SoHo, so we will be staying there), then we're heading up to Vermont (another place I've never been) for a weekend at a lake house. Can I just tell you how excited I am???? It will feel like a REAL vacation. Too bad I'm terrifyingly broke.

So, readers, I need your advice on NYC. What do I wear? (I am especially wanting to know what kind of shoes to wear when I walk around the city. Flip flops seem too sloppy, sneakers too touristy and everything else seems too uncomfortable.) What should I expect? What should I bring? Where should we go? (Keep in mind I am B-R-O-K-E) Do you think I will like NYC? I'm going to try and meet up with NYC Girl while I'm up there. And I'll be with people who know their way around the city. So I won't be too stressed out, and I will be able to enjoy myself. Whew!

As you can tell, I have a lot going on (NYC trip, Lasagna Night, Czarina's visit, my annual review at work, etc.) and will be really busy for the next few weeks. My to-do list is crazy long. But reading up on NYC neighborhoods, culture and visitor advice is much MUCH more interesting right now, so I think I will go do some research.....right after I burn a CD with NYC-themed songs......yeah.........I am totally geeking out right now....

Maybe I will find the theme song to that show, Green Acres. It is very fitting right now, after leaving the beautiful, rural Virginia countryside (Green acres is the place to be...) and looking forward to NYC (New York is where I'd rather be!)........

Are you singing the song now? LOL

Friday, June 15, 2007

Guess What!

I'm moving to NYC.

Ok, not really. But I did dream about that last night. A super cool dream, actually.

I pulled up to the curb, with my car packed full of stuff. (I probably should have sold my car, now that I think about it...guess I'm not too bright in my dreams.) I was hungry, so I decided to leave it all in the car and go find some food. I also wanted to see my new apartment. For some reason, I was carrying a huge, red backpack that was crammed full of who-knows-what.

I locked my car door and proceeded up the steps, across the front yard (right, like buildings have yards in NYC!) and began to walk around the complex. This apartment buildings looked sort of like a cheap hotel -- this gives you a good idea of what it looked like from the outside. And I love how there were only 2 floors to the apartment building -- again, not what real NYC buildings are like. There were several buildings, sprawled out across the block, connected by breezeways. (Am I describing this clearly??? I hope so.)

As I go up the steps, I realize that someone had written something in the cement a long time ago, before it dried: "SPANISH HARLEM" it said. And in my dream, I remember thinking, "Oh, I don't think I moved to the safest neighborhood in town. Eh. I'll be fine."

So I'm carrying my big, red backpack and I begin to walk around, looking for my apartment. Of course, since I'm dreaming, I have no idea what the apartment number is, I just know I need to find it. My plan is to find the apartment, put down my extremely heavy backpack, and go find some food. Along the way, I encounter the apartment complex's janitor: Joe Dirt.

"Huh. My janitor is Joe Dirt. How 'bout that!" I thought.

So I'm walking around and I open a door to find this huge cafeteria. Apparently, this is not an apartment complex so much as it is a college dorm. From what I gathered as I wandered around the cafeteria, the apartment complex serves food there every day. I guess it was included in my rent??? Very interesting. I began to walk around the cafeteria, soaking it all in. It was packed full of people! (And of course, I kept slamming my huge backpack into everyone. Oops. Not the best first impression. I am klutzy, even in my dreams.)

But here's the cool part: Everyone in the cafeteria was young and single. And 75% of them were cute guys. Who were checking me out. (In my dream, apparently, I was very full of myself!) Observing this, I thought to myself, "Holy cow. I have hit the jackpot. I will have dates for weeks! This is like heaven! This is the best idea I've ever had!"

To boot, there were people in the crowd I already knew: The Rat Pack was there. How funny that they all coincidentally lived in the same complex where I was now living! Sweet!

I don't remember what happened after that, but it sure was a cool dream!

Updates: I am going to knock on Cute Neighbor's door today. So wish me luck, because I know I will want to wuss out again. I'm also going to see if he would be willing to get my mail for me while I'm out of town.

I will be leaving to go visit The Czarina and the rest of my fam tomorrow. I will be gone for about a week, and I don't know how much posting I will do. It should be a good trip. This weekend, a bunch of my friends from elementary school will be in town (their high school reunion is this weekend). Next weekend is The Czarina's big annual party in memory of WLF, my dad. Lots of BBQ and family friends. I will get to see the P family. Yay!

So I will try to post, but I can't make any promises. I probably won't be doing too much that is blog-worthy, anyway. I will spend a lot of time reading, watching movies with Smurf, going to the bar in my hometown (yes, there is a grand total of ONE bar there) to see people, and napping. If I'm lucky, I might be able to talk The Czarina into taking me shopping in Richmond one day.

Before I go, I do have a fun thing to share with you. Want to see some pics of my fam? Here you go!

This is The Czarina's house. This is actually taken from behind the house (on the left) and from the far side of the pond (foreground). So you are seeing the backside of the house, rather than the front. There are two buildings on the right side. One is where a friend of the family rents out a small house from The Czarina. The one on the far right is The Barn, where we store extra furniture and stuff like WLF's extra books and his old bottle collection. This is also where the Controversial Family Furniture is secretly hidden. (Shh, don't tell my mom's relatives. Remind me to tell you about that little family issue sometime.) Anyway, as you can probably gather, this is a very VERY rural and relaxing place to be. I think it would be impossible to feel stressed out here. I will probably see some wildlife when I'm there: deer, beavers, that sort of thing. I know this is kind of a crappy pic, but it's all I've got. I will take some better pics and share later.

This is WLF and Fat Dog from a few years ago. I miss WLF very much, especially this time of year. Not only is it Father's Day, but it's also his birthday.

......and here she is, in the flesh: The Czarina. It's hard to see, but she's wearing this super-cool black & white cameo ring which I'm hoping I will get to have one day. She looks really cute in this pic. I think she was going out to dinner with her girlfriends or something.

Have super weekends everyone! Sammy, Toby and I will be on I-95 tomorrow morning while y'all are snoozing away! I'll have some good pics to share when I get back.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Thursday 13

Sorry, no cute little "Thursday 13" graphics for this one. I don't feel like fooling with it.

Oh, shut up. You'll still like it. It's about my love life. I know my readers are obsessed with my love life. Or, at least, you seem to be...........ok, maybe it's all in my head. Crap, you liked the Southern posts, too, didn't you? Well, bite me. This is my blog, and I'm sick of Southern posts. Today, I feel like whining. (And yes, you can skip this if you don't feel like reading. No offense taken, trust me. Tomorrow morning, I will probably be mortified when I remember I've posted this.)

Thirteen Signs My Love Life is in Serious Trouble*

1. I am going to Virginia soon for The Czarina's annual party. She has invited a 40 year old guy to it, and she's going to try to fix us up. This is not bothering me as much as it should.

2. I have sex dreams. Lots of them. In fact, I haven't been having any other kind of dream lately. Even my subconscious is horny.

3. There is a little, nagging voice in the back of my head. It says, "Try Match again! Try eHarmony! Going on bad dates is better than no date at all!" "Yes, bad online dating stories are good for your blog, too!" says Stupidly Optimistic.

4. Now, when a divorcee tells me, "Trust me, being single is better than being divorced!", I think to myself, "Yes, but at least you got married. And had regular sex for a while. And you weren't alone for a while. Shit, you even got a wedding and a diamond. How is that worse??"

5. I no longer consider girls with boyfriends "single". They have boyfriends. Boyfriends become fiances and then husbands. These girls no longer have to look forward to evenings of..........Courtv. They no longer have to go EVERYWHERE alone. They have people who call them every night. They no longer understand me. They have gone to The Dark Side.

6. When I have extra time, I use hot rollers on my hair before going out. I consider this my "date hairdo", since it does take a lot of extra work. My friends used to say, "Hey, you look nice! Going on a date or something?" Now they say, "Wow. I've never seen your hair like that before."

7. I'm in one helluva vicious cycle: I think a big part of why I am single is because my self-confidence is crap, yet the longer I go without a date, the worse my self-confidence is. And I don't know how to make it stop.

8. The last man to feel me up? My gyno. A few months ago.

9. I was thinking, selling my eggs will at least ensure that my genetic code will be passed on........And being a surrogate mom is kinda like having your own kid.........

10. "Ooh! Maybe I'll meet a guy there!" is what I think whenever I go somewhere. Anywhere. The quickie mart. Or the public library. Or to my hairdresser's. Or the Clinique counter. Or to my mailbox.

11. I have spoken the following sentence, and was dead serious about it: "I think maybe I should look into moving to Richmond or Charlotte. There are more single men there, according to the U.S. Census."

12. I no longer want to travel anywhere. I have squashed the idea of starting to save up for a trip to Ireland, Moscow or South Africa. Sure, touring the world alone sounds like fun in theory, but when an angry Pygmy shoots a poisonous dart at your neck in the middle of the Belgian Congo, having an extra pair of hands around would be very convenient.

13. When friends say, "Hey, I know this guy....I'm pretty sure he's single. He's about 48. But I think he's missing an eye. Or does he wear dentures...? I can't remember. Anyway, would you like me to..." I interrupt: "YES! PLEASE! WHEN? Actually, you know what. Nevermind. You would only be wasting his time."

14. (Bonus) I can count the number of single girlfriends I have on one hand. Make that 2 fingers.

15 (Bonus Bonus) My dating status on myspace hasn't changed. Ever.

*sigh* I need help. You know those defibrillator things they use to shock people's hearts back to life when they've had a heart attack? I need one for my dating career. I think I've flatlined. And brain damage has started to set in.

*I would like to add, just for context's sake, that as I was typing this, I was consuming a horrifying amount of chocolate ice cream, complete with hot fudge sauce. I have now eaten so much, that I feel sick. Awesome. If there was an Olympic medal given out for the competitive sport of Pathetically Single, I think I could get at LEAST a bronze.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Another Conversation with My Brain

So I have a problem. And only a guy can help me with it.

Ew, stop right there! I know what you are thinking. Pervert!

Ok, actually, I guess I would need help with that, too, at this point.....

*sigh* Being a perv who can't get any is tough. The jokes aren't as funny after a while.

Alright, back to the story. The problem is, I need to change my air filter, and I am too short to reach it. I need a guy to change it for me. And Hot Neighbor is out of town, not to mention, he's got that stupid girlfriend who doesn't seem to understand that he's supposed to be dating me. That leaves my next most obvious potential air filter changer: Cute Neighbor.

Cue the next Conversation with My Brain.

So last night, at about 8:30, I told Shy to shut the hell up and walked over to his house to ask if he could help me out with this little problem.

"Oh God. You're outside. You're really going to do this, aren't you?" said Shy, trembling.

"Dude, he's going to be SO stoked that you are asking him for help. You are cute and single and friendly. What guy wouldn't want to help you with your air filter? It takes all of 3 seconds. Afterwards, you two are going to have a nice chat and then he will ask you out!" said Confident.

Stupidly Optimistic agreed wholeheartedly. "Don't forget to offer him a beer and invite him over for dinner!"

"Yeah, and your boobs look big in that t-shirt," said Pervert.

"If he invites you in this time, you should go in and suck his face off!" chimed Horny.

"This is a bad idea. He's going to think you're a weirdo. Or worse, that you are interested in him," said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"DO NOT give that impression!" shrieked Single Girl.

"Oh. My. God. You're really doing this, aren't you? There's still time to change your mind, you know," said Shy.

"SHUT UP, SHY!!!" everyone shouted. (Everyone hates Shy. They think she's stupid. To be honest, she is pretty annoying.)

I knocked on the door. "That wasn't very loud. There's no way he will hear that," said Good Point.

"Wait! Is that him inside, making that noise? He's probably looking out the window right now to see who it is. Don't look!!!" said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"Dude, where is he? It doesn't take this long to answer a door!" said Impatient.

"Can't we just forget this? I'm tired," said Diet & Exercise. (I was pooped from my trip to the gym)

"Yeah, I think we're missing Forensic Files," said Nerd.

"She just didn't knock loud enough. But I think maybe she did that on purpose, because if she doesn't get a chance to talk to him, then she doesn't have a chance to mess things up," said Over-Analytical.

"Ooh, you might be on to something, for once," said Good Point.

"He's taking a long time because he doesn't know if he wants to talk to you. He's watching you right now, trying to decide if you are normal or if you are stalking him. This was one of your more genius ideas, I must say," said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"Oh crap, how does your hair look? Are you standing so that your good side is facing him when he opens the door? Just try and look nonchalant. And remember to smile," said Single Girl.

"What is the big deal? Jeez Louise, you aren't asking for the moon! But you could stand up a little straighter. Stop slouching," said Inner Mom Voice.

"Ok, fine. Do it. See if I care. Shit, go ahead and knock loud as hell. But have you considered what, exactly, you are going to say?" asked Shy.

"She's going to say something charming and brilliant, and possibly even hysterically funny, if you must know," said Confident.

"No! No! Say something which lets him know you want to get in his pants! Flirt your ass off! Wink! Touch his arm! It's your big chance!" yelled Horny and Pervert.

"Ok, you are going to have to knock again. I don't think he heard you," said Good Point.

"Oh he heard her. He got up, looked out his window, thought, 'This crazy bitch is stalking me!' and sat back down. That's what happened," said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"Maybe we are here at a bad time? Perhaps he's sleeping or on an important phone call," said Good Point.

"Or he thinks you're the FBI, coming to arrest him!" said Overactive Imagination.

"Or he's watching porn!" said Pervert.

"Tee hee!" giggled Horny.

Impatient sighed. "Can we go now? This is stupid."

"What I want to know is, how long are you going to stand here on his doorstep like an idiot. Anyone want to put some money on this?" said Cynical.

"You fool! Run!!!!" said Panic.

So I quickly walked back to my house and shut the door behind me.

"Gosh I'm glad you said that, Panic!" exclaimed Shy.

"You don't deserve those tits. I think you need to donate them to someone who might actually USE them," Cynical said.

"You are totally pathetic. I am so disappointed in you. You need to take advantage of the ideas I plant in your head, you know. I don't come up with good ones every day," said Single Girl.

"Seriously, are ANY of you even surprised at this point? I mean, come on, look who we're dealing with," said Pity Party.

"I told you this was a bad idea!!!" shouted Shy.

"Ok, so we weren't super confident today. That's ok, we will just try again when you get home from work tomorrow! Maybe we put too much pressure on ourselves. Tomorrow we will be calm and more confident. You can do this, I know you can," said Confident.

"Dude, come on. You know he wants you," said Stupidly Optimistic.

"Can we watch Forensic Files now?" asked Nerd.

"Yes. Please. I need some peace and quiet. Even if it involves learning about how some husband in Michigan chopped up his wife with his wood chipper. Anything, if only y'all will SHUT UP," I said.

Monday, June 11, 2007


As you can probably tell, my life is still fairly ho-hum. But I can provide you with some interesting observations from the weekend.

Friday night, I met up with KT and got to meet her new boyf. I will call him Scary, because that is pretty much everyone's first impression of this guy. His main hobby is competing in weight lifting contests, and he's bald. He's also about 6'3". Ever go to a bar and you see that one guy, and you look at him and think, "Ok, I am NOT going to piss him off!"? -- that's KT's Scary. He is, for better lack of a better term, massively ripped. So I'm sure you've got an accurate picture in your head now.

I arrived at the Flying Saucer (a popular bar here in town), somehow beating KT there. I noticed there were lots of cuties around, and I think I was getting the eye from a group nearby. WOOT! Five minutes later, she arrived. We chatted for a bit while we waited for Scary to park the car. There were lots of guys in the bar, and I was in the mood to flirt with strangers.

Once Scary arrived, I saw how not only the dynamics of the bar changed, but so did my abilities to catch guys' eyes. Oh, they approached us. They just didn't want to talk to me. (Ok, pick your jaw up. Shocker, I know. How different than usual....riiiiiiight.) They wanted to talk to Scary. Random guys kept approaching him and asking him for workout/diet advice. One guy even walked up to him and said, "So, how does it feel to be the biggest guy in here?" -- understandably, Scary was kind of annoyed by all of this. He just wanted to drink some beer and relax.

This is when I began to wonder: Is Scary unintentionally cock-blocking me? Not that hotties line up in bars to hit on me (ha! I wish!) , but the two guys I saw checking me out when I arrived had disappeared instantly from the moment Scary showed up. This was a relief to Almost Girl, who would have no earthly clue what to do if a cute, normal guy (presumably one who also shared lots of her interests and hobbies, too) actually asked her out on a real date.

So I guess I'm asking all of my normal, presumably non-body-builder male readers: Would you approach a single girl if her friend's boyfriend could beat you to a bloody pulp in an instant? Keep in mind, most of the night we were in a booth and KT and Scary exhibited body language indicating they were dating, and I was across from them, all by myself. Was Scary cock-blocking me?

*Special note to KT, who I know is reading this: I think Scary is a sweet guy, and I am NOT mad about anything. So you can just stop thinking that right now. It's all good in da hood. I'm just making conversation with my readers. Just a thought I had when we were sitting there.*

Now that I have clarified that to KT, I will move on to my next male/female relationship observation.

Yesterday, B & E invited a bunch of people over for a cookout. All the girls were sitting in chairs in the driveway, talking, when B informed us that another couple (I will them Mr. and Mrs. Chemical, since he works with chemicals) would soon be joining us.

E said, "Oh boy. I can't wait. I just love her so much." -- very deadpan.

"Whoa. What's the problem?" W and I asked.

"Did I ever mention Mrs. Chemical to you guys?" she said.

"Mrs. Chemical....." I said, trying to place the name.

E reminded us. Yes, she had mentioned her before. Apparently, one night B & E met up with the Chemicals for dinner. As they were being seated, B muttered something which ticked E off. It wasn't anything major, just an ongoing tiff they had been having. "Oh, B, please. Don't do that now. Please. Just stop," E said. And that was the end of it -- they ended up talking about it after dinner on the way home. No problem, not a big deal.

Mrs. Chemical turns to E and says, "Next time, why don't y'all keep the drama at home, ok?" and went back to reading the menu.

As you can imagine, this didn't sit too well with E, who had just met her that very evening. And since it was just a tiff and they didn't even continue the conversation at the table, E really felt Mrs. Chemical was out of line for saying that. And I have to say, I agree. So E is not what you would call Mrs. Chemical's Biggest Fan.

Butter confirmed that yes, she was a major bitch in general, and this was just one of many incidents she and E had had with Mrs. Chemical since meeting her.

"Oh, man, I don't want to meet her!" I said.

Unfortunately, Mr. Chemical is good friends with B. And now that Mr. Chemical's married, Mrs. Chemical doesn't let him hang out with his buddies anymore. (Oh yes, she's one of those wives.) She thinks that B (and all the other guys) are a bad influence on him because B does like to do admittedly stupid things when he drinks. It's nothing harmful, like drunk driving or fist fights, but more along the lines of stupid tricks which can land you in the Emergency Room. Give a guy horseshoes, darts and large quantities of beer and yes, you will see some stupidity in about 2 hours. That's just how guys are. It's no reason to forbid him from hanging with his buddies.

So it's a big deal that Mr. Chemical can even hang out. He must have been on good behavior, because his wife let him out for a whole 2 1/2 hours to play with his friends.

True to her reputation, W and I are introduced to Mrs. Chemical, and she is most definitely caustic. (Ok, that was a bad joke, I know.) She flopped down into the remaining empty chair, arms crossed over her chest, making little to no eye contact with us and refusing our offers of food and beverage.

It was 6pm and 98 degrees. I know the bitch was thirsty. It is impossible to sit in 98 degree weather in SC and not drink something. Plus, it was dinnertime, and we were grilling out burgers and dogs. Who doesn't want to eat that? Apparently, she was too good for our food, beer and cokes. "Oh whatever, I hope you shrivel up and die, anyway," I remember thinking to myself.

Getting her to talk was even worse. We received one-word answers, negative statements and no inquiries in return. It was like pulling teeth, really. I had to bite my tongue from just opening my big, fat mouth and shouting, "WTF is your problem, anyway? If you don't want to be here, then why didn't you just stay home?" I think that if I ever have to be around her again, I might just actually say that to's a good thing I don't drink, because I seriously would have probably said that if I'd had some beer in my system! It soon dawned on me that she was only there so she could "babysit" her husband and make sure he didn't do anything "wrong".

At one point, W and I were in the kitchen alone, and she said, "Wow, isn't she charming?" to which I replied, "Oh, she's just a peach." We tried to figure out what her problem was while we picked at the cookies and brownies, but we gave up and went back outside.

Meanwhile, her husband, Mr. Chemical? Super sweet guy. Very normal and friendly. He seemed really excited to be there, and enjoyed all the food and beer he could handle. We talked about our careers and dogs (they have a Weimaraner) -- and the more I talked to him, the more I was confused as to how on earth he could be married to such a frigid bitch. She barked orders at him, announced when it was time to leave, was rude to his friends.....Seriously, it made no sense at all that they would even date, let alone marry. Perhaps it's because they were high school sweethearts and he just doesn't know any better? Perhaps he's sticking around, in the hopes that one day, she will give him his balls back? You can't tell me the sex is good. I would never buy that.

All I know is, while I don't approve of cheating, I could kinda understand if he did cheat on her one day.....I mean, imagine what she must be like at home, behind closed doors! Imagine having to live the rest of your life with someone like that. Some women believe in nagging and yelling at their men, thinking they know what's best for them. (I'm not talking about normal nagging, PMS or bad moods, I'm talking about the women who are ALWAYS on their man's case, 24/7, to the point where their friends constantly tease them about it. The women who make their guy feel like he can never do anything right.) And I see these women get results (ie, boyfriends, husbands, "well-trained" men, etc.). But I could just never get serious with someone for whom I have so little respect. I do not understand this behavior in women. And I do not understand the men who never tell these women to f--k off. I feel sorry for the men, but at the same time, it's their own fault for never sticking up for themselves. The whole thing just baffles me.

And to be perfectly honest, I don't want to be with someone who requires that much effort on my part! Am I nuts? Or just lazy? LOL

Observing her behavior, one thought kept running through my head, over and over: How are you married to a super nice guy, and I can't get a date? What is wrong with the Universe?

Do you know couples like this? What do you think? Can you explain this behavior? Because I don't get it! Guys, have you ever dated girls like this? If so, what happened? How did it get like that? What made you end it? Or marry her?

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Conversations with My Brain

I promise I'm alive!

It's just that aside from working on my Big Secret Project, I don't have a lot going on right now. And I really need a break from the Southern Culture posts. I will do more, but for now, I need to stop. It takes me so long to assemble each one of those posts -- being the geeky librarian that I am, I have to do research before posting them.

And it gets tiring. Sometimes you just want to log in and start writing, you know?

After much writing, rambling, editing, deleting and small-decision-making (I have written and re-written this post about 3 times today), I have decided to devote this post to introducing you to a new guy in VB World.

Don't get excited.

Good grief, how long have you been reading me? You should know better than to EVER get excited when I talk about guys on here. Calm down. Nothing happened. Nothing EVER happens. This will probably be the only time I even mention this guy. This post is only being written so that you can laugh at me. I'm in a self-deprecating mood today. Trust me, if something cool happened, the post title would tell you. I promise. Can I continue, please? Are we all calm now? Ok.

Allow me to introduce a new character: Cute Neighbor.

Not only do I have Hot Neighbor, I have Cute Neighbor. Oh yes, I am one lucky girl. 2 hotties on my street, and I have yet to spend more than 5 minutes with either one of them. Awesome. I think I can officially give Bridget Jones a run for her money now.

While most girls would have either dated, screwed or at least knocked back a few beers with neighborhood hotties at this point, I am relegated to spying on both of them through my window blinds, wondering what they are doing, where they are going, and why they are not naked in my bedroom. Just another normal day in VB World. My abilities astound me sometimes. I should get in touch with Cosmo. They could write an article inspired by me: "How to be Totally Pathetic".

Cute Neighbor lives directly across the street from me. When I moved in, my real estate agent informed me that she had grown up with him. Since I hadn't laid eyes on him yet, I didn't pump her for info. But I don't remember her saying anything bad. Perhaps I should ask her about him....hmmmm....

This is what I have observed (yes, through my window blinds) so far: He drives a Jeep, plays golf, works out and plays the drums. He never ever has people over, which seems odd to me, but he does go out on weekends sometimes. He dresses normally. He likes to wash his car and takes good care of his lawn. He can change his own oil, which is major points in my book.

He also has gorgeous eyes. And has a kind of geeky vibe going on. Very pale skin. Gives it away every time. Luckily, the older I get, the better geeky guys sound to me.

How do I know he has gorgeous eyes? Why, because I brought him some cookies one day, about 3 weeks ago. When I get bored, I bake. And since I'm on a diet, I can never keep the stuff in the house. So I give it away to the first person I see. But this was a lazy Sunday, and I didn't have any plans on seeing my friends. So I decided to play Nice Neighbor and go door-to-door, handing out cookies to my neighbors. That's when I met Cute Neighbor. I had (obviously) seen him around, but had never gotten a good look at him. Which meant he had never gotten a good look at me, either. Hmmm. How 'bout that.....

I changed into a jean skirt, reapplied my lip gloss, sprayed on some body spray and began playing Neighborhood Girl Scout.

Eventually, I walked over to his house, noticed how nice and green his yard is (far, far different than mine!) and knocked. He opened the door, and I noticed, in true "guy form", he had apparently never decorated anything. He was a little taller than me, had dark hair and these incredible green eyes. Cool.

"Hi, I'm Virginia, from across the street," I said, smiling.

"Hi, I'm Cute Neighbor," he said, also smiling. He shook my hand. Nice and firm. This is good.

I explained why I was knocking on his door, and he eagerly grabbed 3 cookies and said thank you. As we talked, he ate one of the cookies--he couldn't seem to wait. "Note to Self," I thought. "He is apparently in desperate need of homemade baked goods." We talked about his yard, our neighborhood and how he had meant to meet more of his neighbors. He mentioned that because of work, he has crazy hours. But he didn't say what he did for a living, and I always feel it's rude to ask people what they do. Especially when I'm a single girl talking to a (presumably) single guy. So I don't know what he does. But he wears a suit sometimes. That's all I know.

"Hey, you wanna come in?" he said. That's when I got "The Look". You know what I'm talking about, ladies. That look that guys give you when they are checking you out, but they are trying to hide that fact from you. The look that lets you know they like what they're seeing. It's very fleeting, but it's quite an ego booster, I must say. I don't think guys even realize they do it. It's that subtle. Yet unmistakable.

This momentary expression on his face sent my brain, and all of its parts, into a tizzy.

The Diet/Exercise part of my brain said:

"Hey, those trips to the gym are really paying off! Sweet! Maybe I will start getting this look all the time. If I doubled up on my workouts, at this rate...."

Horny interrupted and said:

"Oooh! Yes! Go inside! Maybe you can make out on his couch! Go for it, VB!"

Single Girl said:

"Don't do it! Play hard to get! Tell him you have a date or something. This is too easy. Make him work for it a little more. Ooooh. Nice eyes. Keep talking to him so you can look in his eyes some more. Just make up something. Keep talking. Maybe he'll ask you out. Hey, it looks like he's got decent arms, too. Say something funny so he will fall in love with you instantly. He's probably already intrigued from the cookies. Keeeeeeeep talking........."

Horny said: "Yeah! Nice eyes! Jump his bones! Like he's gonna protest!"

Cynical said:

"This guy just wants more cookies. He's greedy. He thinks that if he can get you inside, you will offer him more cookies."

"Hell yeah, she's gonna offer up some cookies!" Horny said.

"He's got a girlfriend and he's just going to cheat on her right now, with you, because he's got the chance. Men are assholes, and he's no different," warned Bitter.

"No, no, no. He's obviously either a porn addict or some Dungeons & Dragons geek. Look at that pale, transparent skin. He hasn't stepped away from his X-box or computer monitor in 4 months. No wonder no one ever comes to see him. All his friends are online," said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"Did you say 'porn'?" Horny asked.

"But he seems normal. And total super geeks don't drive Jeeps or play the drums. He's probably super cool. I bet you two have lots in common. You should have a lasagna supper and invite him over. Come on, you've been meaning to have a lasagna dinner for a while. This is a great opportunity!" said Stupidly Optimistic.

Then Overactive Imagination said:

"No.........wait. Going into a seemingly-normal stranger's house? That's how girls disappear. Everyone thought Ted Bundy was normal, too. You don't know him. Maybe he buries women in his backyard. You know, he never has people over. It all makes sense now. His backyard is probably lumpy from all the graves. That's why no one ever comes to his house. His secret would be revealed. Can't you picture the headlines now? Cookie-bearing Woman Disappears: Neighborhood Shocked, Police Want to Question Male Neighbor. And then, two weeks later: Man Buried Local Women in Backyard."

And then Reality, which luckily took over after hearing what Overactive had to say, said out loud:

"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't. I'm actually on my way out."

Which was totally true. I had a gym class to catch. I said goodbye and left my house 5 minutes later.

True to form, he and I haven't spoken a word since. Almost Girl strikes again! The girl who gets checked out sometimes, but never asked out. If this keeps up, I might have to change the name of this blog. You think I'm kidding.

So, what do you think? Did I screw up? Should I have gone into his house? Did he think I was turning him down? Can I remedy the situation? I feel I made the first move and now it's his turn. Perhaps I'm being too stubborn or old-fashioned. Maybe I should make more cookies.......he seemed to like them the first time. Am I just totally pathetic? Maybe I didn't get The Look. Maybe I got an Almost Look. Or maybe he just had indigestion? Or is he maybe thinking along the lines of "don't dig in your own backyard", so to speak?

Arg. I would give anything to hear the conversations he has with his brain. I wonder how it would go...

Friday, June 01, 2007

Southern Survival 101: Stuff We Say

Oh, Lawdy do we like to tawk down heuh!

We just do it much.....much....more......slowly.

It takes longer for us to say things, because we like to add extra syllables to words like:

pen (pay-un, also sometimes pronounced like "pin")
here (hee-uh)
gas (gay-ass) -- *snicker* Ok, that has never seemed funny to me until typing it just now.
head (hay-ud)
beer (bee-yur)

And we like to drag out the vowel sounds in other words like:

oil (uuuuuuuuuhl) -- Like you're getting an "uhl" change in your car.
nice (niiiiiiiiiice)
child (chiiiiiiiiiiile) -- We must like that "i" sound a lot.

The main reason we talk so slowly is because it's just too damn hot to talk fast. I am not kidding. You don't understand how much the weather affects your abilities to do things quickly. But more on our weather later.

To most of y'all, since you're not Southern, you probably think all Southern accents are the same. I beg to differ. Just like our BBQ sauces, we have variations from state to state.* A Tennessee accent is different than a South Carolina accent or an Alabama accent. Georgians speak differently than Texans. However, the differences are very slight and can only be picked up by the trained ear. It is only recently that I can sometimes tell I'm speaking to someone who's not from SC. I would also like to add that I can easily pick up on a Virginia accent, which is to be assumed, considering that's my home state. People say, "But I know this guy from Virginia, and he doesn't have an accent!" -- to which I reply, "Well, then you weren't talking to a true Virginian, my friend. You were talking to a transplant from Illinois or something."

Although rare, the Virginia accent is both subtle and refined. If you've ever heard Douglas Wilder speak, I can tell you he's got one of the finest Virginia accents I've ever heard. And my friends who've heard me imitate Jimmy Keller ("Jimmah Kellah") and Bobby Goulder ("Bawbee Gawldah")--two men my family knows-- have heard the Virginia accent, too.

Other people with authentic Southern accents include: Dolly Parton, Reba McEntire, Bill Clinton, Jeff Foxworthy (and crew), Andy Griffith and most of the cast of Designing Women. (Dixie Carter has one of the most beautiful Southern accents I've ever heard, actually.)

I'm sure you've heard poorly imitated Southern accents before. Most of them come from Hollywood. (Off the top of my head, I can't think of any good impressions on film. Maybe Gone with the Wind. ) But if you really want to hear a true Southern accent, you've got to be around someone who was born and raised down here. Preferably someone who was raised out in the country or deep down South. What do you mean you can't understand them? That means it's authentic! Now hush up and listen. You might start talkin' right in a bit.

Of course, it's not only how we say it, it's what we say, too. I'll try and sum it up for you here, although I'm sure I'll miss some big ones.

The most notorious of all is of course, "y'all". I am going to set the record straight, once and for all. "Y'all" is PLURAL. It always was, it always will be. We say "you" when referring to one person and "y'all" when referring to more than one person. I think where some of the confusion comes in is when we say "ALL of y'all". This phrase is only used when there might be some misunderstanding as to how many people in the room the speaker is referring to. Every group? Some of y'all? "ALL y'all" settles it once and for...well, all. It means EVERYONE. Example:

Mother: "I know, Bobbie Sue, y'all are having a good time playing with the water balloons, but ALL y'all need to get in here right quick and help me make supper. Now, git!"

You see, Bobbie Sue was trying to tell her mother that she and her friends were exempt from helping because it was Bobbie Sue's birthday. Bobbie Sue was trying to convince her mother that only her little brothers should be required to help. Her mother needed to emphasize to her that every single child present is to help her out with supper. Hence the use of "ALL y'all". And in case you're wondering, yes, this phrase is often used by aggravated mothers and teachers when attempting to discipline a group of unruly children:"All y'all better knock it off right quick!!!"

This brings me to another difference about Southern speech patterns. When choosing how to explain something, the Southerner will always choose the longest way possible. We understand how important it is to explain that the reason little Wade wasn't invited to Bobbie Sue's party was because his mother was too fast in high school. And all the mothers in town know this because Wade's mother was caught by the head cheerleader (who also happens to be Johnetta's mother) making out with the football coach's 32 year-old son under the bleachers after the homecoming game of 1987, and she hasn't stopped sucking face with eligible bachelors since.

You see? No one adds color to an explanation like a Southerner. If you think I'm kidding, try reading the wedding announcements in a small-town Southern newspaper. By the time you're done reading one, you'll know what color the mother of the bride's dress was, what was served at the reception and what the groom's great-grandfather did for a living. They go on and on and on. The paper in my hometown even has an entire section called, "Social Life". But more on this later. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Where was I? Oh yes. Another infamous "Southernism" is yonder. Now, I myself don't know anyone who says it, but I'm certain some people still say it, especially out in the sticks. (Sticks = waaaaay far out in the country) People supposedly "reckon" things, but it's not very common. Proper use in a sentence: "Well, since the weather's nice and it ain't too hot, I reckon I'll mow the grass today."

Sometimes we put the emphasis on the first syllable: POlice, CEment, INsurnce (yes, that's how it's pronounced. There's no "a"), BEhin' (that's what you sit on), DISplay, etc.

Sometimes we use the same words y'all do, we just pronounce them differntly (again, that's how it's pronounced -- there's only one "e" in that word). Examples:

air = err ("I think I jus' need some fresh err.")
Atlanta = Lana, the cap'tal uh Jawjuh
barbwire = bob war
borrowed = bard
business = bidness
can't = caint (this one is usually said by someone from the sticks)
Carolina = Cur uh lie nuh
caught = cot
children = chillen
did y'all? = jawl?
did you eat? = jooweet?
different = differnt
England = Anglun
everybody = everbuddy
except = ah-cept
feel = full ("I don't full good, Mama! I think I'm see-uck.")
fell = fail ("He fail off the roof!")
folk = foke
for = fur or fore (often dragged out into almost two syllables: for-uh)
foreign = farn
Georgia = Jaw juh
going to = on ("I'm on gitcha! Cummere!" or "I'm on the store, you need anything?")
going to = gawn tuh (another version)
government = gubmint
guard = god ("He worked as a god down at the bank and loan.")
hair = her ("Get your her done")
have you? = view?
how are you? = hire yew?
idea = ideer (found mainly in the mountains)
ignorant = ignernt
isn't it? = id nit?
kin to = kintah (to explain you're related to someone -- your "kin-foke")
know them = nome ("I don't nome at all. They're new in town.")
marry = murry ("They're gettin' murried next month!")
mirror = mirrah or meer (depends on where you are)
other than these = udder knees
Paris = parse, purse or PAIRiss
pecan = pee can (this is the ONLY correct way to pronounce this word!)
picture = pitcher (and yes, it can be confusing at times, as we pour drinks out of pitchers, too)
plain = plane
retired = retard (funny, I know)
Saturday = Say-ur-dy (I actually hear this one a lot, b'lieve it or not)
something to eat = sumpin teet ("Jawl git sumpin teet?")
steal = still ("He got 'rested for stillin from the drugstore, you know.")
sure = shore (also heard a lot)
talk = tawk
think = thank ("Hmmm. I thank so...")
tires = tars
to = tuh ("Where ya gawn tuh?")
told = tole
told you = tole juh
tower = tire (As in, the Eiffel Tire)
veteran = vetern
Virginia = Fuh gin yuh
walk = wawk
wash = warsh (this is usually found in the mountains only)
where = whir ("Whir in God's name are you gawn tuh, son?")
whine = wine ("Quitcher wine-in!")
word = wuhd (this is kinda old-school, upper class Southern. You don't hear it much anymore. Kind of like "Suh" for "sir".)
wrench = ranch
yard = yawd

Sometimes we use entirely different words than y'all do:

It's not a purse. It's a pocketbook. "Purse" is the capital of France.
It's not a couch. It's a sofa.
It's not a frying pan. It's a skillet.
You don't tell a lie, you tell a story.
You don't have a temper tantrum, you pitch a hissy fit.
You're not ugly, you're plain. (Ugh, this is the kiss of death, seriously. You never want to be "plain"!)
You're not getting ready to, you're fixin' to.
It's not a shopping cart, it's a buggy.
You don't get it, you fetch it.
You don't throw it, you chuck it.
You don't misbehave, you cut up.
It's not an animal, it's a critter.
You don't kick someone's ass, you whup their BEhin'. With a switch.
It's not the grocery store, it's just "the store".
It's not the country club, it's just "the club".
When you get home from the store, you don't put things away, you put them up.
They're not goosebumps, they're chill bumps.
You don't push it, you mash it. (I have to say, I don't think this is used much in SC)
You don't turn it off, you cut it off.
It's not a faucet, it's a spigot. (Pronounced "spick-it")
It's NEVER a pail, it's always a bucket.
You don't wear sneakers or trainers to the gym, you wear tennis shoes. ("Tenny shoes")
You don't want affection, you want some sugar.("Gimme some sugar!")
Grandma doesn't want you to hug and kiss her. She wants you to love on her.
You're not difficult to deal with, you're ornery. ("Orn-ree")
You don't get upset, you get riled up.
You're not rude or mean, you're ugly. And God don't like ugly.
You're not making a scene, you're carryin' on or makin' a fuss.
It's not a bag, it's a sack.
You're not still angry, you're sore about it.
You don't do something really well or really quickly, you do it real good or right quick.
You didn't almost have a heart attack, you like to have a heart attack.
You don't say "I think I'll make a sandwich.", you say, "I like to make me a sandwich."
You don't stop, you quit.
You don't shut up, you hush up.
It's not a refrigerator, it's an icebox. (This is kind of old-school. Something grandmas say.)
It's not in poor taste, it's tacky. (Also the kiss of death.)
You're not low-class, you're common. (This is a major insult.)
It's not food, it's vittles.
The meal you eat around noon is dinner, not lunch.
The meal you eat around 6pm is supper, not dinner.

Let's see, what else.....

You don't ever want to be in a sorry mess. That's not a good thing.
You also don't want to be in a heap of trouble. Or a mess of trouble. That's a lot. The law is usually involved when it gets to that point.
You definitely don't want to be in a fix, either. That means you're in a pickle. A difficult situation.

If your kid is "ornry" and mischievous, you might start calling him Booger. It has nothing to do with stuff in his nose.
If you walk into a room and you find that your kids are coloring on the walls, you might say to them, "What in tarnation are y'all doin in here?!" -- Tarnation is like saying, "damnation". We also like to say "dagnabbit" instead of "goddammit".

If you're at a restaurant and you hear someone ask about "fixin's", they are asking about side dishes (cornbread, collards, baked beans, etc.).

If someone you know has just told you how they're in a heap of trouble, their mother is in a sorry mess and their brother's in a real fix, the proper response from you is: "Bless your heart!" -- that's a definite sign of sympathy. This is also a good response when someone has gone out of their way to do something really nice for you.

Women like to call everyone something other than by name: Honey, Sugar, Sweetheart, Darlin', etc.

But true Southern women know that if a girl is described as "nice", what is really meant is that the girl is simply awful for whatever reason. She could be a bitch, a whore or just simply common. You never want to be described as "nice." Also bad is "sweet". If you're "sweet", then that means the speaker pities you.

Don't confuse this with someone telling you you're sweet for bringing them flowers. THAT's a compliment. Confusing, I know.

"Cute" can go either way. It needs to be in context. A "cute" girl can be the kiss of death. But a "cute" outfit can be very stylish. "Cute" is often used as an alternate to describing a girl as "plain". If she's cute, then she's a little better looking than plain, but she's not pretty or beautiful.

On the other hand, it's good if you're described as "lovely" or "precious". Those are most definitely compliments.

It's not your "Mom and Dad". It's your Mama and Daddy (here in SC, "daddy" is pronounced almost like "deddy"). You'll hear adult, even elderly, women still refer to their fathers as Daddy. And adult men will still call their moms "Mama". Especially if they have close relationships with them.

There's also "seeins how". Example: "I don't know when we'll see Billy Bob again, seeins how he moved to China until further notice."

It's tacky to say someone died. Instead, you should use one of the following: "found relief", "passed on", "found their eternal rest" or "departed from this life."

When you leave someone's house, you'll hear, "Now, y'all come back now, ya hear?" -- That's good. That means they like you.

You can be "madder than a wet hen."

A group of orn-ree chillen are usually "making a ruckus", or a lot of noise.

People down here, when they find a good deal, like to say, "You can't beat that with a stick!" If someone's all over something, then you say "He was on it like white on rice!" Sometimes he's on it like "a duck on a june bug!"

*I forgot to mention there are pockets of very rare accents, all throughout the South. Here in SC and in parts of GA, we have a lot of islands just off our coast. They're called the "Sea Islands". Anyway, groups of African-Americans have lived here for generations, and they've developed their own culture and accent: Gullah (also sometimes referred to as Geechee). It's got a lot of ties to the Caribbean, although it's a very unique culture. They have the most beautiful accents, which I cannot imitate properly, as I've only heard it once. If you have seen Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, the voodoo lady is Gullah. She's kinda got the accent. (This is a fantastic movie for observing Southern culture, btw.) There's an entry for Gullah in Wikipedia if you're interested in learning more.

Have I forgotten any??? Help me out, readers!