The other day I was having a debate with a friend of mine over who was whiter-trash. We've set the bar pretty high over the course of trying to one-up each other. So here's a short list.
You might be white trash if:
You have ever watched someone beat a belligerant drunk party guest with a string of dried chiles.
You were ever on the recieving end of such a beating.
You have ever heard a tornado warning and hid under your trailer.
You have ever ridden in the bed of a Ford pickup.
You have ever ridden in the bed of a Ford pickup at 75 miles an hour and were still able to hear the Alan Jackson song playing in the cab.
You once went two months without eating anything that hadn't been microwaved.
You have ever bought breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a 7-Eleven.
You have ever proudly sang the song "Upper-Middle-Class White Trash".
You began singing the chorus when your friend said that.
You know anyone who actually "stopped to pee, got some gas and won the lottery!"
You will drop whatever you're doing to go to a pig roast.
You have ever seen roadkill and thought "I bet that'd be good with some A-1 on it."
You keep your James Bond tapes in an A&W box.
You can name twelve barbeque joints within driving distance of wherever you are.
You have gator meat in your freezer.
You have a snakeskin belt from a snake killed by anyone you know.
You know anyone who goes by the name "Cornbread".
You know how to ride a non-riding lawnmower.
You have ever gone to Wal-Mart in search of shoes, because you accidentally left on vacation with no shoes whatsoever.
You're not ashamed to wear a bright red Rocky's Autos hat.
You will drive 900 miles to watch someone drive 500 miles.
You will drive 200 miles to watch someone drive 12.42 miles uphill.
Freestyle Snowshoe Boulder Jumping sounds like a good idea.
You have ever hit a tree. While walking. In the summer. On purpose. More than once.
And, most of all, if you have ever participated in a contest over how white-trash you are.
Showing posts with label trailer trash. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trailer trash. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
You might be from Colorado if
A winter statistic: 98% OF AMERICANS SCREAM BEFORE GOING IN THE DITCH ON A SLIPPERY ROAD. THE OTHER 2% ARE FROM COLORADO AND THEY SAY, 'HOLD MY SODA AND WATCH THIS!'
For rednecks, especially those of the mountain trailer trash breed (you've met us, even though you might not know it), that above sentence is usually uttered while at the wheel of a 12-year-old sedan.
NOW: You're from Colorado if you'll eat ice cream in the winter. Are you kidding? I stock my freezer with popsicles first thing in December. And we're not the only ones in the Costco line with a jumbo pack of Orange Dreamsicles, either.
When the weather report says it's going to be 65 degrees, you shave your legs and wear a skirt. That's in the spring. In the winter, the shave-legs-and-wear-skirt point is 47. Shorts for guys (and those of us who wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt) is at a clear 42 degree day.
It snows 5 inches and you don't expect school to be canceled. No shit. Five with seven more on the way means get an early start, the school won't be starting late.
You'll wear flip flops every day of the year, regardless of temperature. No, we'll wear Birkenstock sandals. Flip-flops don't happen until late May; the snow will suck them off your feet.
You have no accent at all, but can hear other people's. Actually, I must disagree here. Colorado has a few accents, which no non-Coloradan can pick up. Mostly, you can tell if someone's from the Front range, ranch country, the Western Slope, or right up Jack Frost's asscrack on the Divide. You think I'm kidding. Spend a winter in a trailer in Buena Vista.
And then you make fun of them. Okay, we'll make fun of people's accents, but mostly northeaserners. "Hey, nor-easter! That 'sat-ah-lights' means snowplow. No, you don't get snow where you're from. You ain't seen nothin' yet." Sometime's that's followed by "Hold my soda and watch this."
'Humid' is over 25%. Damn straight. And this constant 45% we've been having means our swamp cooler won't function, except to give us new and creative mold problem. Really, the other day, I held a board meeting with all the various strains of mold that want to live in our bathroom. The toilet mold isn't getting his damage deposit back, the shower mold is getting evicted before he even gets to move in, and the mold that wants to happen on the ceiling because of the damn swamp cooler malfunctioning got hit with agent orange.
Your sense of direction is: Toward the mountains and away from the mountains. Is there any other way? March me across a compound hill leading into a drainage that will run 40 miles before it hits flat land, and I will be able to point where we came from. March me out on flat land and ask me the same thing, and I will get it very wrong.
You say 'the interstate' and everybody knows which one. Well, we only have two. Say "the highway" and everyone knows what you mean, too. Just give a number, like "24, 25, 285, 17," (ut-hut-hike!), and folks will know whether you mean Interstate, U.S., or Colorado road, too.
You think that May is a totally normal month for a blizzard. June's pretty normal, too, in Jack Frost's asscrack, oops, I mean the Divide.
You buy your flowers to set out on Mother's day, but try and hold off planting them until just before Father's day. There's any other way?
You grew up planning your Halloween costumes around your coat. I went as a fireman one time just so I got to wear heavy canvas duds. Another time I went as Chewbacca just so I could wear fur to stay warm. We only had three dry Halloweens when I was growing up, and one of then was 17 degrees.
You know what the Continental Divide is. Who doesn't?
You don't think Coors beer is that big a deal. They bought the whole town, of course it's a big deal. It just isn't any good from a beer or supply chain standpoint.
You went to Casa Bonita as a kid, and as an adult. And take every visitor there, too.
You've gone off-roading in a vehicle that was never intended for such activities. Can you say "Jeeping in an MG 1100?" How about "Towing a big-ass trailer up a dirt mountain road with a '93 Olsmobile Cutlass" Been there, done that. How about "Towed someone out of a mild Colorado ditch with an '83 Mustang?" Hell yeah. I always say, if you get stuck anywhere in Colorado, wait and a local will help you. If you get stuck within 90 miles of Denver, call me, we'll get you out.
You always know the elevation of where you are. 5373 feet.
You wake up to a beautiful, 80 degree day and you wonder if it's going to snow tomorrow. Or thundersnow. I didn't know that was possible until it happened. I thought the Reds had attacked. With a nuke.
You don't care that some company renamed it, the Broncos still play at Mile High.
Every movie theater has military and student discounts. Seriously, is that abnormal?
Everybody wears jeans to church. Some folks ride quads to church. I saw one feller ride a horse one time.
You actually know that ** South Park ** is a real place not just a show on TV. You also know that the really weird people are just over the pass on either side of South Park.
You know what a 'trust fund hippy' is, and you know its natural habitat is Boulder. Drinking Fat Tire Ale and saving the whales.
But where else do you have such a Postcard view from you front/back porch! Somewhere that's NOT Boulder.
You know you're talking to a fellow Coloradoan when they call it Elitches, not Six Flags. Fuck Six Flags. It will always be Elitch's, (both spellings are acceptable), and not to see Elitch's is not to see Denver.
A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you. It does tend to bother other people, though, so you'll probably throw a firecracker at it. Tom did that once, the bear jumped straight up out of his dumpster, hit the ground running, and never came back.
Your two favorite teams are the Broncos and whoever is beating the crap out of the Raiders. Except last season. The Broncos were' not on that list last year, but Elam was. Trading him was the dumbest thing that franchise has ever done.
When people out East tell you they have mountains in their state, too, you just laugh. They're hills. That's why y'all are called hillbillies. We've got hillbillies here, too, but here, they live in the FOOThills, and the real dangerous moonshiners, hunters, and general backwoods boys live up past the foothills, in the front or second range of the MOUNTAINS.
You go anywhere else on the planet and the air feels 'sticky' and you notice the sky is no longer blue. It's been sticky around here lately, too. Wouldn't it suck if the overall change in climate patterns that "global warming" is going to cause put us smack dab in the middle of a cold, wet zone?
For rednecks, especially those of the mountain trailer trash breed (you've met us, even though you might not know it), that above sentence is usually uttered while at the wheel of a 12-year-old sedan.
NOW: You're from Colorado if you'll eat ice cream in the winter. Are you kidding? I stock my freezer with popsicles first thing in December. And we're not the only ones in the Costco line with a jumbo pack of Orange Dreamsicles, either.
When the weather report says it's going to be 65 degrees, you shave your legs and wear a skirt. That's in the spring. In the winter, the shave-legs-and-wear-skirt point is 47. Shorts for guys (and those of us who wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt) is at a clear 42 degree day.
It snows 5 inches and you don't expect school to be canceled. No shit. Five with seven more on the way means get an early start, the school won't be starting late.
You'll wear flip flops every day of the year, regardless of temperature. No, we'll wear Birkenstock sandals. Flip-flops don't happen until late May; the snow will suck them off your feet.
You have no accent at all, but can hear other people's. Actually, I must disagree here. Colorado has a few accents, which no non-Coloradan can pick up. Mostly, you can tell if someone's from the Front range, ranch country, the Western Slope, or right up Jack Frost's asscrack on the Divide. You think I'm kidding. Spend a winter in a trailer in Buena Vista.
And then you make fun of them. Okay, we'll make fun of people's accents, but mostly northeaserners. "Hey, nor-easter! That 'sat-ah-lights' means snowplow. No, you don't get snow where you're from. You ain't seen nothin' yet." Sometime's that's followed by "Hold my soda and watch this."
'Humid' is over 25%. Damn straight. And this constant 45% we've been having means our swamp cooler won't function, except to give us new and creative mold problem. Really, the other day, I held a board meeting with all the various strains of mold that want to live in our bathroom. The toilet mold isn't getting his damage deposit back, the shower mold is getting evicted before he even gets to move in, and the mold that wants to happen on the ceiling because of the damn swamp cooler malfunctioning got hit with agent orange.
Your sense of direction is: Toward the mountains and away from the mountains. Is there any other way? March me across a compound hill leading into a drainage that will run 40 miles before it hits flat land, and I will be able to point where we came from. March me out on flat land and ask me the same thing, and I will get it very wrong.
You say 'the interstate' and everybody knows which one. Well, we only have two. Say "the highway" and everyone knows what you mean, too. Just give a number, like "24, 25, 285, 17," (ut-hut-hike!), and folks will know whether you mean Interstate, U.S., or Colorado road, too.
You think that May is a totally normal month for a blizzard. June's pretty normal, too, in Jack Frost's asscrack, oops, I mean the Divide.
You buy your flowers to set out on Mother's day, but try and hold off planting them until just before Father's day. There's any other way?
You grew up planning your Halloween costumes around your coat. I went as a fireman one time just so I got to wear heavy canvas duds. Another time I went as Chewbacca just so I could wear fur to stay warm. We only had three dry Halloweens when I was growing up, and one of then was 17 degrees.
You know what the Continental Divide is. Who doesn't?
You don't think Coors beer is that big a deal. They bought the whole town, of course it's a big deal. It just isn't any good from a beer or supply chain standpoint.
You went to Casa Bonita as a kid, and as an adult. And take every visitor there, too.
You've gone off-roading in a vehicle that was never intended for such activities. Can you say "Jeeping in an MG 1100?" How about "Towing a big-ass trailer up a dirt mountain road with a '93 Olsmobile Cutlass" Been there, done that. How about "Towed someone out of a mild Colorado ditch with an '83 Mustang?" Hell yeah. I always say, if you get stuck anywhere in Colorado, wait and a local will help you. If you get stuck within 90 miles of Denver, call me, we'll get you out.
You always know the elevation of where you are. 5373 feet.
You wake up to a beautiful, 80 degree day and you wonder if it's going to snow tomorrow. Or thundersnow. I didn't know that was possible until it happened. I thought the Reds had attacked. With a nuke.
You don't care that some company renamed it, the Broncos still play at Mile High.
Every movie theater has military and student discounts. Seriously, is that abnormal?
Everybody wears jeans to church. Some folks ride quads to church. I saw one feller ride a horse one time.
You actually know that ** South Park ** is a real place not just a show on TV. You also know that the really weird people are just over the pass on either side of South Park.
You know what a 'trust fund hippy' is, and you know its natural habitat is Boulder. Drinking Fat Tire Ale and saving the whales.
But where else do you have such a Postcard view from you front/back porch! Somewhere that's NOT Boulder.
You know you're talking to a fellow Coloradoan when they call it Elitches, not Six Flags. Fuck Six Flags. It will always be Elitch's, (both spellings are acceptable), and not to see Elitch's is not to see Denver.
A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you. It does tend to bother other people, though, so you'll probably throw a firecracker at it. Tom did that once, the bear jumped straight up out of his dumpster, hit the ground running, and never came back.
Your two favorite teams are the Broncos and whoever is beating the crap out of the Raiders. Except last season. The Broncos were' not on that list last year, but Elam was. Trading him was the dumbest thing that franchise has ever done.
When people out East tell you they have mountains in their state, too, you just laugh. They're hills. That's why y'all are called hillbillies. We've got hillbillies here, too, but here, they live in the FOOThills, and the real dangerous moonshiners, hunters, and general backwoods boys live up past the foothills, in the front or second range of the MOUNTAINS.
You go anywhere else on the planet and the air feels 'sticky' and you notice the sky is no longer blue. It's been sticky around here lately, too. Wouldn't it suck if the overall change in climate patterns that "global warming" is going to cause put us smack dab in the middle of a cold, wet zone?
Saturday, June 21, 2008
It's a BOWL of MEAT!
And your point is?
Hey ya'll, if you have ever been called weird by your neighbor while he was grilling a squirrel, we might have the same neighbor. He's got no room to talk, he's grilling a damn squirrel.
Everyone knows, squirrels are best when fried.
One of my friends has a great recipe for pigeon. It's a little gamey, but that's a plus. Brazed rotisserie pigeon is actually very good.
That's the kind of friend I should be hanging out with. I don't know why I have nearly vegetarian friends. Actually, yes I do. You're alright in my book... even if you won't eat beef.
I can understand somebody not liking rattlesnake kabobs, or maybe broiled ostrich, but beef replaced chicken as the main meat staple of the American diet sixty years ago. Maybe going to a place called Noodles and ordering two sides of beef (no pasta) is a little carnivorous, but you would be amazed how good and fall-apart juicy their beef is. But, no, "It's a bowl. Of meat." Like that's somehow wrong. And you call me weird. It is a bowl (a tiny one for $4.32, at that). Of meat. People need meat to survive. At least this people does.
If you think PETA means People Eating Tasty Animals, we're on the same page. We didn't get to the top of the food chain just to eat plants. So let me just put together a list of critters, cuts of meat, and good ways to cook them.
Ostrich: I like dark meat when it comes to poultry. I'm not entirely sure how Craftwood Inn cooks it, but their ostrich is worth every penny. It is tasty, fall-apart juicy, and glazed in some kind of amazing sauce. If you want to have this big-ass bird, don't try and do it yourself, go to Craftwood Inn in Manitou Springs, Colorado and get their ostrich, off of the dinner menu, not the appetizers. You'll need a reservation and a collar. While you're there, get the cheese soup. Or maybe buy that for your less adventurous friend.
Squirrel: I said it already, fry it. Non-native squirrels are considered invasive pests, in addition to good when battered. I personally recommend without batter, though. Make sure it is done through: wild critters can have all sorts of nasty things. Fry in vegetable oil, not fatback, in order to get the most squirrel flavor. take the guts out before cooking, but you could leave the fur on if you want. Cooking/cleaning-wise, it's somewhere in between rabbit and fish.
Rabbit: I have limits. Rabbits are pests to farmers, and multiply like, well, rabbits. Farmers will shoot them on sight, and then either leave them twitching to die, or take them home. If you ever see a farmer shoot a rabbit and leave it for dead, go find it and break its neck. Don't let it suffer. I won't eat a rabbit that was purposely killed in front of my eyes so we could have it for dinner. But if I saw it shot and left for dead, or I know it was killed just for dinner purposes, but I didn't have to watch, I'll eat it. They're big enough you need to drain the blood. Clean and cube. Make rabbit stew. Let it sit on the heat for at least four hours. Six if you can.
Rattlesnake: Best when pregnant. Then you get eighteen for the price of one! Although a funny joke (if slightly macabre... I do love a girl who can shoot sarcasm from the hip like that, though), don't do it. First of all, rattlers can bite poisonously for more than an hour after they're dead. Let someone else get the snake. Only ever kill snakes if they pose an immediate threat to people or livestock: snakes control the rodent population, and a rat problem is worse. If you want to kill a viper, shoot it with a low-speed firearm, but not from too close a range. It will strike at the hot bullet. You can try to use a shotgun, but you'll put a lot of holes in the purty skin, and you won't be able to make a belt out of it. Cut the head off (if it isn't already blown to smithereens) and hold the mouth shut. Tape shut, even, for at least an hour. Incinerate, not in a cookfire. Snake, especially rattler, but watersnakes are good, too (good luck surviving a cottonmouth hunt) is very good when put on a kabob and fire-roasted. You can also pan-fry, make jerky, or make a meatloaf or crabcake-like dish. Keep the rattle and display.
Pigeon: My friend won't share his recipe, and I'm not in the mood to bag a pigeon and experiment. As far as I can tell, it is citrus-marinated and fire-roasted or rotisseried like a chicken. I think he bastes with a simple syrup every now and then. Fully cook it. Don't be afraid to burn the outside if you have to in order to get the inside done.
Antelope, deer, elk, or moose: This is an art in and of itself, but jerky and old-fashioned barbecue are popular options.
Wild Boar: As with all wild animals, especially ones that forage through trash and scraps like pigs do, take your grandmother's advice: make sure it's good and done or you'll be good and done! Trichinosis is very real, and very insidious. Cook your meat well done and that risk is eliminated. Wild Boar is good cooked like a Hawaiian pig, roasted on a spit, or butchered and cooked like a beef roast. Craftwood Inn also has great boar. I highly recommend it. I'm not sure precisely what they do, but it's magic.
Frog: Egg battered and lightly fried is popular, but I find that the legs are still a little off in terms of flavor and texture. I personally prefer cooked on a griddle. Make sure it's well-greased, preferable with bacon fat, fatback or other animal grease. Cook until browned, but do not burn.
Snail: Not escargot, snail. The kind that eats your garden. Cook like the meat course in a fondue meal: in boiling oil (maybe it's an oily beef or chicken stock, I'm not sure). Think of the meat course at The Melting Pot. Make sure it's salty (the oil, not the snail). Use one of those tiny forks to get the snail out of its shell once it's all cooked and dead and stuff.
Fried ant: Crunchy, nutty, and delicious. Don't do it yourself, buy it ready-made. I wouldn't eat the ants in my yard, that's for sure.
Mealworm: Yes, that is the worm in the bottom of the tequila bottle. No, you don't want that one. Tequila is mean stuff, and getting to the worm means drinking a lot of it, and then arguing with a bunch of other drunk-on-cheap-tequila people over who gets the worm. It's an honor in some circles. I've seen the cops show up to break up tequila worm fights. Don't mess with that. Mealworms are tasty, but put them in an eggroll or spring roll in place of another meat, like chicken. Fry. Enjoy.
Prepare for complaints from a dainty friend or two.
Hey ya'll, if you have ever been called weird by your neighbor while he was grilling a squirrel, we might have the same neighbor. He's got no room to talk, he's grilling a damn squirrel.
Everyone knows, squirrels are best when fried.
One of my friends has a great recipe for pigeon. It's a little gamey, but that's a plus. Brazed rotisserie pigeon is actually very good.
That's the kind of friend I should be hanging out with. I don't know why I have nearly vegetarian friends. Actually, yes I do. You're alright in my book... even if you won't eat beef.
I can understand somebody not liking rattlesnake kabobs, or maybe broiled ostrich, but beef replaced chicken as the main meat staple of the American diet sixty years ago. Maybe going to a place called Noodles and ordering two sides of beef (no pasta) is a little carnivorous, but you would be amazed how good and fall-apart juicy their beef is. But, no, "It's a bowl. Of meat." Like that's somehow wrong. And you call me weird. It is a bowl (a tiny one for $4.32, at that). Of meat. People need meat to survive. At least this people does.
If you think PETA means People Eating Tasty Animals, we're on the same page. We didn't get to the top of the food chain just to eat plants. So let me just put together a list of critters, cuts of meat, and good ways to cook them.
Ostrich: I like dark meat when it comes to poultry. I'm not entirely sure how Craftwood Inn cooks it, but their ostrich is worth every penny. It is tasty, fall-apart juicy, and glazed in some kind of amazing sauce. If you want to have this big-ass bird, don't try and do it yourself, go to Craftwood Inn in Manitou Springs, Colorado and get their ostrich, off of the dinner menu, not the appetizers. You'll need a reservation and a collar. While you're there, get the cheese soup. Or maybe buy that for your less adventurous friend.
Squirrel: I said it already, fry it. Non-native squirrels are considered invasive pests, in addition to good when battered. I personally recommend without batter, though. Make sure it is done through: wild critters can have all sorts of nasty things. Fry in vegetable oil, not fatback, in order to get the most squirrel flavor. take the guts out before cooking, but you could leave the fur on if you want. Cooking/cleaning-wise, it's somewhere in between rabbit and fish.
Rabbit: I have limits. Rabbits are pests to farmers, and multiply like, well, rabbits. Farmers will shoot them on sight, and then either leave them twitching to die, or take them home. If you ever see a farmer shoot a rabbit and leave it for dead, go find it and break its neck. Don't let it suffer. I won't eat a rabbit that was purposely killed in front of my eyes so we could have it for dinner. But if I saw it shot and left for dead, or I know it was killed just for dinner purposes, but I didn't have to watch, I'll eat it. They're big enough you need to drain the blood. Clean and cube. Make rabbit stew. Let it sit on the heat for at least four hours. Six if you can.
Rattlesnake: Best when pregnant. Then you get eighteen for the price of one! Although a funny joke (if slightly macabre... I do love a girl who can shoot sarcasm from the hip like that, though), don't do it. First of all, rattlers can bite poisonously for more than an hour after they're dead. Let someone else get the snake. Only ever kill snakes if they pose an immediate threat to people or livestock: snakes control the rodent population, and a rat problem is worse. If you want to kill a viper, shoot it with a low-speed firearm, but not from too close a range. It will strike at the hot bullet. You can try to use a shotgun, but you'll put a lot of holes in the purty skin, and you won't be able to make a belt out of it. Cut the head off (if it isn't already blown to smithereens) and hold the mouth shut. Tape shut, even, for at least an hour. Incinerate, not in a cookfire. Snake, especially rattler, but watersnakes are good, too (good luck surviving a cottonmouth hunt) is very good when put on a kabob and fire-roasted. You can also pan-fry, make jerky, or make a meatloaf or crabcake-like dish. Keep the rattle and display.
Pigeon: My friend won't share his recipe, and I'm not in the mood to bag a pigeon and experiment. As far as I can tell, it is citrus-marinated and fire-roasted or rotisseried like a chicken. I think he bastes with a simple syrup every now and then. Fully cook it. Don't be afraid to burn the outside if you have to in order to get the inside done.
Antelope, deer, elk, or moose: This is an art in and of itself, but jerky and old-fashioned barbecue are popular options.
Wild Boar: As with all wild animals, especially ones that forage through trash and scraps like pigs do, take your grandmother's advice: make sure it's good and done or you'll be good and done! Trichinosis is very real, and very insidious. Cook your meat well done and that risk is eliminated. Wild Boar is good cooked like a Hawaiian pig, roasted on a spit, or butchered and cooked like a beef roast. Craftwood Inn also has great boar. I highly recommend it. I'm not sure precisely what they do, but it's magic.
Frog: Egg battered and lightly fried is popular, but I find that the legs are still a little off in terms of flavor and texture. I personally prefer cooked on a griddle. Make sure it's well-greased, preferable with bacon fat, fatback or other animal grease. Cook until browned, but do not burn.
Snail: Not escargot, snail. The kind that eats your garden. Cook like the meat course in a fondue meal: in boiling oil (maybe it's an oily beef or chicken stock, I'm not sure). Think of the meat course at The Melting Pot. Make sure it's salty (the oil, not the snail). Use one of those tiny forks to get the snail out of its shell once it's all cooked and dead and stuff.
Fried ant: Crunchy, nutty, and delicious. Don't do it yourself, buy it ready-made. I wouldn't eat the ants in my yard, that's for sure.
Mealworm: Yes, that is the worm in the bottom of the tequila bottle. No, you don't want that one. Tequila is mean stuff, and getting to the worm means drinking a lot of it, and then arguing with a bunch of other drunk-on-cheap-tequila people over who gets the worm. It's an honor in some circles. I've seen the cops show up to break up tequila worm fights. Don't mess with that. Mealworms are tasty, but put them in an eggroll or spring roll in place of another meat, like chicken. Fry. Enjoy.
Prepare for complaints from a dainty friend or two.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The redneck garden & lawn
It's true: I garden. I'm secure enough to freely admit it. Thing is, I don't garden like most people do. I also apparently don't garden like most rednecks, but that's because I encourage plants, then let them adapt to neglect. It works. Just neglect the yard that came with your house, and you'll get a dirt lot. The lawns that developers and homeowners plant are like your ex-girlfrined: high-maintenance and moody. Don't mess with that. Get a new one.
Most people have gardens that involve plants that would normally not be caught within thousands of miles of each other, require constant attention, and tremendous amounts of water. These gardens are often immensely beautiful to look at, but I wouldn't be caught dead having one. The effort of maintaining it alone would probably kill me.
I don't see how they do it.
I can't say that we don't have some out-of-place plants, but the ones that we do have fend for themselves. Between the front and the back, our yards have two grape vines, three maples, one locust, two stands of aspen, two apple trees, two cherry trees, a plum tree, an apricot tree, a pear tree (no partridge, though), incredible numbers of evergreen shrubs, seven dwarf spruce, a peach tree, enough lilac bushes to form a wall of lilac 100 feet long and three feet deep, sumac, five rose bushes, one "wild tea rose," at least thirty crocus flowers, a planter full of King Irises, one small iris of unknown origin, three snowball plants, blue columbines, three huge clover plants, lots of grass, dandelions, huge amounts of morning glory growing in the sandbox (of all places!), an unknown blue wildflower (a lot of 'em), and the most thistle you have ever seen in your life. Huge amounts of moss, too.
Some of those are "weeds." The only one that I'd get rid of, though, is all the thistle.
None of those get watered, except by rain and snow, and with a very light shower with the hose if we haven't gotten any rain in two weeks, and right before the 4th of July (we want it damp in case a firework goes awry).
All of them are thriving. Last year we had so many grapes that we literally couldn't give them all away before they went bad. We had three crispers full of grapes in the fridge for a while. We froze some. And I'm not even counting the parts of the vine that have grown onto our neighbors' properties. In fact, we talked to them and said that all the grapes that grow on their side of the fence are theirs. Feel free to cut the vine at the fenceline if you choose, too. They chose the first option. That vine is 15 years old, and has never gotten more water than Colorado naturally provides for the last ten of them.
The grass doesn't even get watered. How do we do it? First of all, we didn't buy grass from the hardware store. We got it from the side of the highway, when that grass went to seed. That grass knows what's up. Most of the grass grows in partial shade from our house or one of our huge maples, which, I'm sure, helps.
I don't know how much water fruit trees are supposed to get, but I'm sure it's more than ours get. They are all 15 years old, but still very small in comparison to what a "properly cared for" one would be. The fruit is smaller, too, but that trees are used to it, and the fruit's just as good!
In fact, most of what's growing in our yard got to be there by natural selection: that is to say, it was planted next to a lot of other plants, watered unti it took hold, and then very carefully and strategically ignored. They had to earn their spots. Now the surviving, hardy plants have choked out the less hardy ones. In fact, I feel that we are very close to perfecting the Emerald Green Zero-Water Colorado Yard.
It's true. Every spring, I let the grass grow as tell as it wants until it goes to seed, and once those seeds drop and have been rained on, I mow. The H.O.A. bitches about it every year, but we just ignore them. We don't rake our fall leaves, or our grass clippings. We let them insulate the ground and trap water. The un-raked yard, come spring, sprouts faster than the raked yard. I checked. The un-raked grass clippings help hold hater in the soil in between summer rains. They kae a big difference, too. Both of them put nutrients back in the soil, meaning no need to fertilize. That alone is invaluable.
Come the height of summer, the grass turns brown, except after rains and the obligatory two-week sprinkle. Then it turns green and grows a few inches. The rest of the plants, being green at High June, balance out the brown highway grass in between storms. If you're considering this method, mow right before a certain(!) rainstorm, or a regularly scheduled watering. Don't mow it when it's grween, and definitely don't mow the brown stuff and then let it sit without water. That's very bad for it. You'll sprout dirt.
Remember how the H.O.A. would always bitch about my yard looking like an abandoned property? Well, once we showed them our water bill for July of one year that our yard was particularly green, greener in fact than most of our neigbors' yards, they backed off. The yard is ugly as all hell in spring, but come summer, this style of gardening is cheaper than xeriscape (and looks better, too), uses less water than any other yard in the area, and frees up enough water to do better things with.
Any of ya'll remember the watering restrictions we had for five years a little while ago? We filled a swimming pool, ran a swamp cooler, washed two cars once every two weeks, had a very green yard (including the grass!), and continued all our usual household water use, and still came in with the lowest water bill. We even got a letter from Denver Water thanking us for using less than the target they had set! Go figure.
You should have seen the neighbors steaming mad after they saw us do all all of that!
------------------------------
Funny story, in fact. For a while there it was actually a ticketable offense to wash your car in your driveway, but we could legally water the lawn on Mondays and Wednesdays for an hour or two. Car was dirty, lawn was brown. Solution?
You guessed it, repark the car on the front lawn, wash, dry, repark in driveway. Park other car on other part of lawn. Wash. Dry. Repark in driveay.
In fact, one time Denver Water came around while I was washing the car, did a double take, and started fixin' to write a ticket. I just told them that we park that car on the lawn, and I was just watering the lawn around the car. The guy thought about it, chuckled, and asked why we park on the lawn when we have a two car driveway with only one car in it. I just explained, "Park it on the lawn, don't gotta worry 'bout bumping doors, got all sorts'a space, an' plus, it ain't like we was gonna park it on the street, where it's more likely to get hit or sumthin'."
I'm sure he didn't believe me, but it was plausible deniability for both of us. He just siad, "Alright, that's a new one" and went on his way.
--------------------------
So that's green gardening: the redneck way. Using mostly native, hrady plants, even a semi-arid zone can be green with almost no effort or water.
Ya'll have a great day!
Most people have gardens that involve plants that would normally not be caught within thousands of miles of each other, require constant attention, and tremendous amounts of water. These gardens are often immensely beautiful to look at, but I wouldn't be caught dead having one. The effort of maintaining it alone would probably kill me.
I don't see how they do it.
I can't say that we don't have some out-of-place plants, but the ones that we do have fend for themselves. Between the front and the back, our yards have two grape vines, three maples, one locust, two stands of aspen, two apple trees, two cherry trees, a plum tree, an apricot tree, a pear tree (no partridge, though), incredible numbers of evergreen shrubs, seven dwarf spruce, a peach tree, enough lilac bushes to form a wall of lilac 100 feet long and three feet deep, sumac, five rose bushes, one "wild tea rose," at least thirty crocus flowers, a planter full of King Irises, one small iris of unknown origin, three snowball plants, blue columbines, three huge clover plants, lots of grass, dandelions, huge amounts of morning glory growing in the sandbox (of all places!), an unknown blue wildflower (a lot of 'em), and the most thistle you have ever seen in your life. Huge amounts of moss, too.
Some of those are "weeds." The only one that I'd get rid of, though, is all the thistle.
None of those get watered, except by rain and snow, and with a very light shower with the hose if we haven't gotten any rain in two weeks, and right before the 4th of July (we want it damp in case a firework goes awry).
All of them are thriving. Last year we had so many grapes that we literally couldn't give them all away before they went bad. We had three crispers full of grapes in the fridge for a while. We froze some. And I'm not even counting the parts of the vine that have grown onto our neighbors' properties. In fact, we talked to them and said that all the grapes that grow on their side of the fence are theirs. Feel free to cut the vine at the fenceline if you choose, too. They chose the first option. That vine is 15 years old, and has never gotten more water than Colorado naturally provides for the last ten of them.
The grass doesn't even get watered. How do we do it? First of all, we didn't buy grass from the hardware store. We got it from the side of the highway, when that grass went to seed. That grass knows what's up. Most of the grass grows in partial shade from our house or one of our huge maples, which, I'm sure, helps.
I don't know how much water fruit trees are supposed to get, but I'm sure it's more than ours get. They are all 15 years old, but still very small in comparison to what a "properly cared for" one would be. The fruit is smaller, too, but that trees are used to it, and the fruit's just as good!
In fact, most of what's growing in our yard got to be there by natural selection: that is to say, it was planted next to a lot of other plants, watered unti it took hold, and then very carefully and strategically ignored. They had to earn their spots. Now the surviving, hardy plants have choked out the less hardy ones. In fact, I feel that we are very close to perfecting the Emerald Green Zero-Water Colorado Yard.
It's true. Every spring, I let the grass grow as tell as it wants until it goes to seed, and once those seeds drop and have been rained on, I mow. The H.O.A. bitches about it every year, but we just ignore them. We don't rake our fall leaves, or our grass clippings. We let them insulate the ground and trap water. The un-raked yard, come spring, sprouts faster than the raked yard. I checked. The un-raked grass clippings help hold hater in the soil in between summer rains. They kae a big difference, too. Both of them put nutrients back in the soil, meaning no need to fertilize. That alone is invaluable.
Come the height of summer, the grass turns brown, except after rains and the obligatory two-week sprinkle. Then it turns green and grows a few inches. The rest of the plants, being green at High June, balance out the brown highway grass in between storms. If you're considering this method, mow right before a certain(!) rainstorm, or a regularly scheduled watering. Don't mow it when it's grween, and definitely don't mow the brown stuff and then let it sit without water. That's very bad for it. You'll sprout dirt.
Remember how the H.O.A. would always bitch about my yard looking like an abandoned property? Well, once we showed them our water bill for July of one year that our yard was particularly green, greener in fact than most of our neigbors' yards, they backed off. The yard is ugly as all hell in spring, but come summer, this style of gardening is cheaper than xeriscape (and looks better, too), uses less water than any other yard in the area, and frees up enough water to do better things with.
Any of ya'll remember the watering restrictions we had for five years a little while ago? We filled a swimming pool, ran a swamp cooler, washed two cars once every two weeks, had a very green yard (including the grass!), and continued all our usual household water use, and still came in with the lowest water bill. We even got a letter from Denver Water thanking us for using less than the target they had set! Go figure.
You should have seen the neighbors steaming mad after they saw us do all all of that!
------------------------------
Funny story, in fact. For a while there it was actually a ticketable offense to wash your car in your driveway, but we could legally water the lawn on Mondays and Wednesdays for an hour or two. Car was dirty, lawn was brown. Solution?
You guessed it, repark the car on the front lawn, wash, dry, repark in driveway. Park other car on other part of lawn. Wash. Dry. Repark in driveay.
In fact, one time Denver Water came around while I was washing the car, did a double take, and started fixin' to write a ticket. I just told them that we park that car on the lawn, and I was just watering the lawn around the car. The guy thought about it, chuckled, and asked why we park on the lawn when we have a two car driveway with only one car in it. I just explained, "Park it on the lawn, don't gotta worry 'bout bumping doors, got all sorts'a space, an' plus, it ain't like we was gonna park it on the street, where it's more likely to get hit or sumthin'."
I'm sure he didn't believe me, but it was plausible deniability for both of us. He just siad, "Alright, that's a new one" and went on his way.
--------------------------
So that's green gardening: the redneck way. Using mostly native, hrady plants, even a semi-arid zone can be green with almost no effort or water.
Ya'll have a great day!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Don't need no accurate terms!
The term "redneck" originates from the fact that we are generally white trash with blue collar jobs which require us to work outside, or we happen to hunt, fish, and four-wheel, enough to have essentially a perpetual sunburn. My dad has that problem. He's got a permanent sunburn in a "v" on his chest from keeping the top bottons unbottoned on his shirt when we went hiking one time. Never went away.
But we rednecks also wear mullets a lot. Short in front, long in back, covering our neck. I don't know about ya'll, but I've never gotten a sunburn through my mullet. So the literal use of the term doesn't fit. Ha!
In fact, I am two shades more tan than dracula. I don't know why. My dad burns a beet red very quickly, and my mom tans deep as can be. I don't burn or tan very much.
Don't get me wrong, both have happened, but it takes about twice as much sun exposure as most white folk, and the burn or tan fades very quickly. I met several people on the Dunes that had burnd more through SPF 15 in one day than I did in three, no sunscreen required. I'm pretty sure this is not a good thing. My dad burned through SPF 70.
I know that a sunburn happens when the UV rays have damaged cells. It's actually a mild, topical radiation burn. Tan happens when cells produce a chemical, melatonin, that helps block those rays. So if I don't burn or tan much, it either means that my cells aren't affected by the radiation as much as most people's would be, or they just don't react properly. As far as I know, I've done the kind of damage that UV can cause, but without the redness and inflammation reaction that leads to healing. Or maybe my skin just doesn't overreact. But when I do actually get a sunburn, which only happens from long periods of very intense exposure, even a mildly red one itches and burns like hell. Think poison ivy with a saltwater loofah chaser. That probably isn't good, either. But in any case, this is knida freaking me out. Anybody else got this problem?
But we rednecks also wear mullets a lot. Short in front, long in back, covering our neck. I don't know about ya'll, but I've never gotten a sunburn through my mullet. So the literal use of the term doesn't fit. Ha!
In fact, I am two shades more tan than dracula. I don't know why. My dad burns a beet red very quickly, and my mom tans deep as can be. I don't burn or tan very much.
Don't get me wrong, both have happened, but it takes about twice as much sun exposure as most white folk, and the burn or tan fades very quickly. I met several people on the Dunes that had burnd more through SPF 15 in one day than I did in three, no sunscreen required. I'm pretty sure this is not a good thing. My dad burned through SPF 70.
I know that a sunburn happens when the UV rays have damaged cells. It's actually a mild, topical radiation burn. Tan happens when cells produce a chemical, melatonin, that helps block those rays. So if I don't burn or tan much, it either means that my cells aren't affected by the radiation as much as most people's would be, or they just don't react properly. As far as I know, I've done the kind of damage that UV can cause, but without the redness and inflammation reaction that leads to healing. Or maybe my skin just doesn't overreact. But when I do actually get a sunburn, which only happens from long periods of very intense exposure, even a mildly red one itches and burns like hell. Think poison ivy with a saltwater loofah chaser. That probably isn't good, either. But in any case, this is knida freaking me out. Anybody else got this problem?
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Der uber-pumpkin
Have you ever had a pumpkin last seven months without rotting? Neither had I, until this year. Last October, we went out to the pumpkin patch to buy a pumpkin, which we intended to carve into a jack-o-lantern. What wound up happening was we set the pumpkin in the kitchen and proceeded to walk around it while we did other things.
Such was the state of things for several months, until some time after New Years we realized that that really was a pumpkin from two months ago, and it hadn't turned to mush all over the floor yet. At that point, a friendly competition began over who could guess the date of the pumpkin molding the most accurately.
Even our furthest prediction only got us into mid-March.
So we proceeded to watch the pumpkin carefully for a few weeks. Weeks turned into a month, and a month into several. Finally, between Cinco de Mayo and Memorial Day, the pumpkin (which we had now dubbed the Uber-Pumpkin--I'd like to buy an umlaut, please?) finally got a few spots of mold. The mold didn't actually compromise the structural integrity of our friendly neighborhood uberpumpkin until Memorial Day weekend, at which point we declared an end to the experiment and proceeded to remove the toxic gourd from our back patio (we had decided to put it out there) in "the best way possible." You know what I'm getting at. Moldy Pumpkin Machete Baseball.*
Originally invented by Wes Sturr of Eastern Wyoming, the game consits of taking turns lobbing the moldy pumpkin (usually a jack-o-lantern in November, but this was a special case) at one another, and swinging at it baseball-style with a machete. Once the peices are too small to hit anymore, or all the parties are too grossed out to continue, the game is over. Whoever got the last hit wins.
We don't keep machetes around (shame on us), so we just ground a coarse edge onto a peice of steel flatstock. Ta-da!
With der uber-pumpkin eliminated, life could continue.
*I honestly thought I'd never get to use that tag again, but I actaully did.
Such was the state of things for several months, until some time after New Years we realized that that really was a pumpkin from two months ago, and it hadn't turned to mush all over the floor yet. At that point, a friendly competition began over who could guess the date of the pumpkin molding the most accurately.
Even our furthest prediction only got us into mid-March.
So we proceeded to watch the pumpkin carefully for a few weeks. Weeks turned into a month, and a month into several. Finally, between Cinco de Mayo and Memorial Day, the pumpkin (which we had now dubbed the Uber-Pumpkin--I'd like to buy an umlaut, please?) finally got a few spots of mold. The mold didn't actually compromise the structural integrity of our friendly neighborhood uberpumpkin until Memorial Day weekend, at which point we declared an end to the experiment and proceeded to remove the toxic gourd from our back patio (we had decided to put it out there) in "the best way possible." You know what I'm getting at. Moldy Pumpkin Machete Baseball.*
Originally invented by Wes Sturr of Eastern Wyoming, the game consits of taking turns lobbing the moldy pumpkin (usually a jack-o-lantern in November, but this was a special case) at one another, and swinging at it baseball-style with a machete. Once the peices are too small to hit anymore, or all the parties are too grossed out to continue, the game is over. Whoever got the last hit wins.
We don't keep machetes around (shame on us), so we just ground a coarse edge onto a peice of steel flatstock. Ta-da!
With der uber-pumpkin eliminated, life could continue.
*I honestly thought I'd never get to use that tag again, but I actaully did.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Laundry day... and the next three days
Sunday is laundry day. On sundays there is not a cloth towel to be found anywhere in the house. So of course it is logical to hang up a replacement towel. But after you've cleaned the towels, should the paper towel still be on the towel rack on Thursday? You be the judge.
I think it's classy, though, that my dad actually went to the trouble of hanging the paper towel on the rack, rather than just letting us exert the tremendous effort of PULLING ONE OFF THE ROLL that is literally four inches above this towel rack.
It didn't even register for me that a paper towel on the towel rack might be a bit odd until after I had washed and dried my hands, at which point I had to grab a camera and do a writeup.
I think it's classy, though, that my dad actually went to the trouble of hanging the paper towel on the rack, rather than just letting us exert the tremendous effort of PULLING ONE OFF THE ROLL that is literally four inches above this towel rack.
It didn't even register for me that a paper towel on the towel rack might be a bit odd until after I had washed and dried my hands, at which point I had to grab a camera and do a writeup.
Oh good god, it's brilliant.
So I was clicking around on Instructables, and I ran across a guy who wanted to heat his pool. One of the commentors pointed him to this site. I evny the fact that I didn't think of it, but it is something I would have invented on my own if I wasn't okay with having cold water when it's hot as hell here. I just wear a wetsuit.
The guy who wanted advice on how to heat his pool wanted to put a 55 gallon drum in it so it's just above water level and light a huge fire in it. Big fire in your pool. Brilliant. I told him to seal the barrel, pipe in compressed air, and submerge the barrel, therfore getting the pool hotter faster. The concept of (gasp) a proper pool heater has not been mentioned. Of course, sealing and submerging the barrel takes away most of the fun of having a bonfire in the middle of your pool.
If we ever have an inground pool installed instead of our aboveground vinyl Thing, I'll make a point of biulding in a firebox. I want a fire in the middle of my pool, too. I do declare that's the best idea since flashpowder in small paper balls shipped in unpadded boxes. (a.k.a. Popper fireworks). Maybe I'll even install a full barbeque firepit in the middle of the pool. Forget swim-up bars, how about a swim-up rib roast?
The guy who wanted advice on how to heat his pool wanted to put a 55 gallon drum in it so it's just above water level and light a huge fire in it. Big fire in your pool. Brilliant. I told him to seal the barrel, pipe in compressed air, and submerge the barrel, therfore getting the pool hotter faster. The concept of (gasp) a proper pool heater has not been mentioned. Of course, sealing and submerging the barrel takes away most of the fun of having a bonfire in the middle of your pool.
If we ever have an inground pool installed instead of our aboveground vinyl Thing, I'll make a point of biulding in a firebox. I want a fire in the middle of my pool, too. I do declare that's the best idea since flashpowder in small paper balls shipped in unpadded boxes. (a.k.a. Popper fireworks). Maybe I'll even install a full barbeque firepit in the middle of the pool. Forget swim-up bars, how about a swim-up rib roast?
Friday, May 30, 2008
Gearhead habits and redneck lawns
If you cried at the end of World's Fastest Indian, you're probably a bit of a gearhead. I'll pass you the Kleenex.
If you sell cowboy furniture, walking sticks, and steel roses to pay for your Indian habit, you might be a gearhead.
If you have over five hundred horses in your garage and none of them are animals, you might be a gearhead.
If the first time you saw your house on Google Earth you couldn't help but say, "Man, what a dump!" before you realized, oh, that's our house, you might be a redneck. In my defense, that was right after we bought it as an abandoned property.
If, fifteen years later, your house can still be mistaken for an abandoned property at first glance, but hey, it's a mighty spiffy "abandoned property", you might be a redneck.
If you have more lawnmowers than grass but your lawn is covered in green plants anyway, you might be a redneck.
If you have the second-greenest lawn in the neighborhood and all you do is ignore it, you might be a redneck in a yuppie area. They work so hard on their yards that the yard can't live without them.
If you've ever had a yard that consisted entirely of poison ivy, you're probably that poor fella in the Reader's Digest last April. That was a freakin' hilarious article. Life lesson, don't take off your clothes when there's poison ivy around.
If you sell cowboy furniture, walking sticks, and steel roses to pay for your Indian habit, you might be a gearhead.
If you have over five hundred horses in your garage and none of them are animals, you might be a gearhead.
If the first time you saw your house on Google Earth you couldn't help but say, "Man, what a dump!" before you realized, oh, that's our house, you might be a redneck. In my defense, that was right after we bought it as an abandoned property.
If, fifteen years later, your house can still be mistaken for an abandoned property at first glance, but hey, it's a mighty spiffy "abandoned property", you might be a redneck.
If you have more lawnmowers than grass but your lawn is covered in green plants anyway, you might be a redneck.
If you have the second-greenest lawn in the neighborhood and all you do is ignore it, you might be a redneck in a yuppie area. They work so hard on their yards that the yard can't live without them.
If you've ever had a yard that consisted entirely of poison ivy, you're probably that poor fella in the Reader's Digest last April. That was a freakin' hilarious article. Life lesson, don't take off your clothes when there's poison ivy around.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
You might be a redneck
If you hide under your trailer when there's a tornado warning, you might be a redneck.
If you have a truck that couold haul that trailer across a boulder fieled at 70 miles an hour without flinching, but you hide under the trailer anyway, you are a redneck.
If the amount of CDs you take with you on vacation is measured in gallons, you might be a redneck.
If you have ever oiled your boots with 10w-30 because you had it laying around, you might be a redneck.
If your lawnmower always starts on the first kick, you might be a redneck.
Hispanics have large, close-knit families. So do white trash. If we know any family at all, we know 300 relatives. As far as we're concerned, if your third-cousin's brother-in-law married an Osmond, the Osmonds are now your family and are entitled to come to your annual pig roasts. If your great aunt's grand-daughter is graduating from high school, you are invited and will think nothing of driving 250 miles round trip to get there.
If you have a truck that couold haul that trailer across a boulder fieled at 70 miles an hour without flinching, but you hide under the trailer anyway, you are a redneck.
If the amount of CDs you take with you on vacation is measured in gallons, you might be a redneck.
If you have ever oiled your boots with 10w-30 because you had it laying around, you might be a redneck.
If your lawnmower always starts on the first kick, you might be a redneck.
Hispanics have large, close-knit families. So do white trash. If we know any family at all, we know 300 relatives. As far as we're concerned, if your third-cousin's brother-in-law married an Osmond, the Osmonds are now your family and are entitled to come to your annual pig roasts. If your great aunt's grand-daughter is graduating from high school, you are invited and will think nothing of driving 250 miles round trip to get there.
I like flowers and I'm okay with that.
Not as in, show up at my door with flowers, ladies. Show up at my door with an El Camino for sale, and we'll talk. I'm talking about plant-wise, flowers are very good plants to have. It's often observed that rednecks rarely have any grass. That's true. But, frankly, I couldn't turn my lawn completely dirt if I dug it up and shipped away all the plants. With the eception of where I spilled mineral spirits that time, and the one corner that the power company poisoned, plants love our property. Back when we owned a cabin in Cascade, plants loved that, too. You'd be amazed how quickly trees and grass and God-knows-what would sprout after a rain, even if the property next door couldn't get jack shit to grow.
My theory is that this unintentional green thumb is because I'm not picky about plants. Thistle? Bring it on, but stay on the property line, please. Wild rose? Upwind and not near where I'm walking, but stick around. Crocus? Where have crocus not sprouted lately? Grass? Only if it wants to be there all on its own. Elm? If it doesn't sprout in the middle of an open space, it gets to stay, but no bigger than a shrub, please. Lilac? Everywhere it wants to be. That odd, low grass that looks like rosemary and blooms an incredible blue? Great! Dandelions? Yes please. Mushrooms? How'd they get enough water? Let 'em stay, keep the dogs away.
If it's green and wants to live there all on its own, it's a good plant and can stay. Clover? Sure. Weeds? They never need watered. Dirt turns to mud, mud gets on cars, the cars rust. I don't have time for bare dirt.
Anything that flowers is especially welcome in my yard. King Iris are amazingly purple, huge, and fragrant. My preferred cologne may be eau de unleaded, but when I'm not working on that, the sweet smell of flowers is a welcome event in my yard.
I'm also not ashamed to leave my grass clippings in the lawn (for something that doesn't get watered except by rain in a place that's almost desert, you would not believe the amount of grass that grows here) and let those clippings turn brown and decompose. Saves me money on fertilizer and all the effort of raking it. Plus, it must keep water in the soil or something.
Life will find a way. Ignore your yard long enough and green things will move in with no effort on your part. Even if it's poison ivy, just stay on the concrete and it'll keep would-be trespassers away. Even grass will get used to it... well, mine has.
My theory is that this unintentional green thumb is because I'm not picky about plants. Thistle? Bring it on, but stay on the property line, please. Wild rose? Upwind and not near where I'm walking, but stick around. Crocus? Where have crocus not sprouted lately? Grass? Only if it wants to be there all on its own. Elm? If it doesn't sprout in the middle of an open space, it gets to stay, but no bigger than a shrub, please. Lilac? Everywhere it wants to be. That odd, low grass that looks like rosemary and blooms an incredible blue? Great! Dandelions? Yes please. Mushrooms? How'd they get enough water? Let 'em stay, keep the dogs away.
If it's green and wants to live there all on its own, it's a good plant and can stay. Clover? Sure. Weeds? They never need watered. Dirt turns to mud, mud gets on cars, the cars rust. I don't have time for bare dirt.
Anything that flowers is especially welcome in my yard. King Iris are amazingly purple, huge, and fragrant. My preferred cologne may be eau de unleaded, but when I'm not working on that, the sweet smell of flowers is a welcome event in my yard.
I'm also not ashamed to leave my grass clippings in the lawn (for something that doesn't get watered except by rain in a place that's almost desert, you would not believe the amount of grass that grows here) and let those clippings turn brown and decompose. Saves me money on fertilizer and all the effort of raking it. Plus, it must keep water in the soil or something.
Life will find a way. Ignore your yard long enough and green things will move in with no effort on your part. Even if it's poison ivy, just stay on the concrete and it'll keep would-be trespassers away. Even grass will get used to it... well, mine has.
Monday, May 12, 2008
If I had a spare couch....
Who needs a tire swing when you have a sofa swing? I've put an overstuffed recliner on the remnants of a glider before and used it as a rocking chair for a while, but I must say, I've never hung large furniture from a tree. Yet. The tiki torch is a nice touch.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Redneck lawns
Speaking of lawns, let's talk about the sort of lawn your avrage redneck maintains.
The average redneck lets his property grow wild, except when that means that there's something in his way. Then he takes quick, decisive action to solve the problem.
Oftentimes, the problem is that to maintain the suburban grass that came with his house, the redneck will have to water it. A lot. Who needs that?
"Normal" Solution: Water a lot, stress about grass, replant yearly.
Redneck Solution: Don't water it and hope something local moves in.
Effort involved: none.
Payoff: Lower water bill, wildflowers sometimes (for the missus), no maintenance.
Drawback: Neighbors complain (solution: ignore them)
Another issue is that the local grass, such as crabgrass or the scrubgrass which likes to grow by the side of the highway, grows a lot, and if it gets too long, one can't stand barefoot in one's own front yard.
"Normal" Solution: Poison it and plant non-local grass, bust butt trying to make it grow, stress
Redneck Solution: Mow occasionally.
Effort involved: Low to moderate, unless one loves using the lawnmower, or can ride it (even a self-propelled push-mower is good for this)
Payoff: No cut feet
Drawback: Must mow
Suppose you own a larger chunk of property, and just letting it grow wild won't do. For example, you want to turn the field into a dirtbike park.
"Normal" Solution: Spend much money excavating, bringing in soil, getting rid of soil, stress over maintenance
Redneck Solution: Ride dirtbike on it until it gets the hint
Effort involved: None, you just get to ride a bike
Payoff: Dirtbike park, no cost
Drawback: No large jumps
Suppose you own a larger chunk of property, and don't want to mow it all, but don't want the scrub to get thick.
"Normal" Solution: Expensive landscape work
Redneck Solution: Apply gasoline and burn occasionally
Effort involved: Minimal when done often enough, must dig firebreak at edge of burn
Payoff: Fire. Rich local grass, no scrub, no mowing
Drawback: Fire. Can get out of hand. Yuppie neighbors that just bought farm next door call county fire department.
Suppose you own more motor vehicles than you have garage space for.
"Normal" Solution: Sell some.
Redneck Solution: Park on lawn.
Effort involved: None
Payoff: Can keep vehicles, hold paintball/airsoft in yard if large enough and not attached enough to vehicles to keep non-technicolor
Drawback: Neighbors tend to complain. Dunno why.
If you have a lot of trees on your property, especially large fruit trees and at least one hardwood, you have a lot of trimmings, fallings, and fruit.
"Normal" Solution: Eat fruit, let much rot, throw away wood
Redneck Solution: Eat fruit, throw parties and give away fruit on good years, Make preserves. Let wood lay around and decorate the place as it ages, when properly seasoned, use as fuel for cookfire. Use large branches from occasional major trimmings to decorate, make items to sell.
Effort involved: None, unless you make preserves or dislike using chainsaws every five or so years
Payoff: More firewood than you can burn, delicious food
Drawback: Crapload of wood, fruit, tough to use at proper pace to avoid large woodpiles
The average redneck lets his property grow wild, except when that means that there's something in his way. Then he takes quick, decisive action to solve the problem.
Oftentimes, the problem is that to maintain the suburban grass that came with his house, the redneck will have to water it. A lot. Who needs that?
"Normal" Solution: Water a lot, stress about grass, replant yearly.
Redneck Solution: Don't water it and hope something local moves in.
Effort involved: none.
Payoff: Lower water bill, wildflowers sometimes (for the missus), no maintenance.
Drawback: Neighbors complain (solution: ignore them)
Another issue is that the local grass, such as crabgrass or the scrubgrass which likes to grow by the side of the highway, grows a lot, and if it gets too long, one can't stand barefoot in one's own front yard.
"Normal" Solution: Poison it and plant non-local grass, bust butt trying to make it grow, stress
Redneck Solution: Mow occasionally.
Effort involved: Low to moderate, unless one loves using the lawnmower, or can ride it (even a self-propelled push-mower is good for this)
Payoff: No cut feet
Drawback: Must mow
Suppose you own a larger chunk of property, and just letting it grow wild won't do. For example, you want to turn the field into a dirtbike park.
"Normal" Solution: Spend much money excavating, bringing in soil, getting rid of soil, stress over maintenance
Redneck Solution: Ride dirtbike on it until it gets the hint
Effort involved: None, you just get to ride a bike
Payoff: Dirtbike park, no cost
Drawback: No large jumps
Suppose you own a larger chunk of property, and don't want to mow it all, but don't want the scrub to get thick.
"Normal" Solution: Expensive landscape work
Redneck Solution: Apply gasoline and burn occasionally
Effort involved: Minimal when done often enough, must dig firebreak at edge of burn
Payoff: Fire. Rich local grass, no scrub, no mowing
Drawback: Fire. Can get out of hand. Yuppie neighbors that just bought farm next door call county fire department.
Suppose you own more motor vehicles than you have garage space for.
"Normal" Solution: Sell some.
Redneck Solution: Park on lawn.
Effort involved: None
Payoff: Can keep vehicles, hold paintball/airsoft in yard if large enough and not attached enough to vehicles to keep non-technicolor
Drawback: Neighbors tend to complain. Dunno why.
If you have a lot of trees on your property, especially large fruit trees and at least one hardwood, you have a lot of trimmings, fallings, and fruit.
"Normal" Solution: Eat fruit, let much rot, throw away wood
Redneck Solution: Eat fruit, throw parties and give away fruit on good years, Make preserves. Let wood lay around and decorate the place as it ages, when properly seasoned, use as fuel for cookfire. Use large branches from occasional major trimmings to decorate, make items to sell.
Effort involved: None, unless you make preserves or dislike using chainsaws every five or so years
Payoff: More firewood than you can burn, delicious food
Drawback: Crapload of wood, fruit, tough to use at proper pace to avoid large woodpiles
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Speakerphone was invented for a reason, and that's not it.
Standing in line at my local Subway shop, I got to witness an odd bit of what happens when redneck behavior collides with the portable speakerphone. The man ahead of me was next up to order and since apparently he couldn't remember what his wife wanted, he put it on speakerphone and had her talk to the dude making the sandwich, who, understandably, was annoyed. She nagged on him stuff like "make sure you get enough mayo on it. Is he getting enough mayo on it?" Which left us wondering, what evil hath this man unleashed upon this unsuspecting restaurant? When you have someone order through speakerphone, anywhere, you're a redneck. You've solved your problem. You also apparently don't give a rat's ass that it's very annoying to everyone else.
It's always white folks doing this, too. I don't know why, but it's your average "Wal-Mart when it's not on rollback IS fancy" crowd that breaks cell phone ettiquette the most.
Speakerphone is excusable when you're at the pet food store and she wants to talk to you and you want to get 50 pounds of Purina in the cart. Speakerphone is not excusable in the grocery store, at restaurants or drive-ups, or in any other situation where you could use the earpiece. In fact, if you're ordering a sandwich, have her say what she wants, write it on your hand, THEN get in line.
Basically, before you hit the speakerphone button, think. I've gotten the urge to do the speakerphone thing whilst completing one of my mom's inane "call me for details" shopping lists many times, where she'll write vague things that send you all over the store, and then talk to you like you really care what frozen dinner she gets. Dinner is not a committee process. Anyway, if I can resist the urge to put it on speaker, drop it in my shirtpocket, and stroll the isles, so can you. So just think of that little story and have a laugh next time you're tempted.
It's always white folks doing this, too. I don't know why, but it's your average "Wal-Mart when it's not on rollback IS fancy" crowd that breaks cell phone ettiquette the most.
Speakerphone is excusable when you're at the pet food store and she wants to talk to you and you want to get 50 pounds of Purina in the cart. Speakerphone is not excusable in the grocery store, at restaurants or drive-ups, or in any other situation where you could use the earpiece. In fact, if you're ordering a sandwich, have her say what she wants, write it on your hand, THEN get in line.
Basically, before you hit the speakerphone button, think. I've gotten the urge to do the speakerphone thing whilst completing one of my mom's inane "call me for details" shopping lists many times, where she'll write vague things that send you all over the store, and then talk to you like you really care what frozen dinner she gets. Dinner is not a committee process. Anyway, if I can resist the urge to put it on speaker, drop it in my shirtpocket, and stroll the isles, so can you. So just think of that little story and have a laugh next time you're tempted.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
I really have way too much random knowledge.
I do. I'm trying to gather more car-related knowledge and less fish-related knowledge, so I'm going to have to share some more fish info with you to get it out of my head.
Blowfish guts are toxic, but the muscle is not.
While Canada and the U.S. generally get along on everything, there has been continued bitter dispute over North Pacific salmon waters since time immemorial. Each country has a line that they're not supposed to fish past, but we all know how well that works. So next time you order some sushi here's an exciting thought: you may be eating illegal fish.
Now, have you ever noticed that no matter who your old neighbors were and who your new neighbors are, the new ones seem worse at first? Well, let me set the scene for this one: The original owners of two 50-year old houses both sell around the same time. They had always kept to themselves, but seemed like nice respectable people. New people buy the houses. One is bought by somewhere between three and half a dozen college-age students who probably aren't in college. There are usually three cars in their driveway and one more, which could fit in the driveway, which they like to park in front of your house. This little peice of shit wannabe sports-car import makes it tough to get out of your drive, and blocks you putting your trashcan where you always have on trash day. The second house was bought by a three-generation white trash family, based on what you've seen of them-- grandma, grandpa, young mom (and no father), and at least two school-age children. They keep to themselves and don't park in odd places, but pretty soon you start finding Docshund poo in your yard (theirs is the only tiny dog on the block, so you know). Who annoys you more?
Well, in both instances, you mount a passive-agressive campaign, putting your trash can right where you always put it even though the car is way too close to it, and begin scooping up the dog poo and tossing it back on their land. None of you yeild and neighborhood staring matches are common. How does it resolve? Well, you're still getting little brown presents every day after a long time of this. As for the young punks with the car, turns out they're car guys too and you're now on good terms (with the import parked on their side of the street). Why the shift? You both sized each other up when they moved in and decided you couldn't possibly have anything in common with them and thus decided to act like some Arab states do towards Israel: ignore them and hope they'll go away. But when they were out on their porch drinking beer, you just happened to be tuning on your Oldsmobile and ya'll got to talking. Turns out they're not violent, trashing the house, orinto drugs like they looked like at first. You're not uptight squares, creepy weirdos, or nearly as insane as you looked like at first. You're both interested in getting as many miles out of your beaters as possible, and come to be something near to friends before they're out of beer and you are convinced that you don't have a compression leak. You don't mention their annoying car out front (they do ask what the turning circle of you car is and if you ever have trouble getting out of the driveway), and when you're done talking, one of the guys moves it over in front of their house. That night, you don't call the cops when their keg party (which is suprisingly non-messy come morning) gets loud. You now officially get along with these neighbors and talk sometimes when you're both hanging out on the porch on weekends.
Moral: well, you figure it out, it ain't that tough.
Now, here's a redneck moment my chemistry professor had the other day. Remember, this is a bright, college-educated guy we're talking about here. When he figured out that people were stealing his calculators in between classes, though, his solution was to duct-tape them to three foot lengths of 2x4, when he could have just locked them in his desk. That would have been no fun, though.
Blowfish guts are toxic, but the muscle is not.
While Canada and the U.S. generally get along on everything, there has been continued bitter dispute over North Pacific salmon waters since time immemorial. Each country has a line that they're not supposed to fish past, but we all know how well that works. So next time you order some sushi here's an exciting thought: you may be eating illegal fish.
Now, have you ever noticed that no matter who your old neighbors were and who your new neighbors are, the new ones seem worse at first? Well, let me set the scene for this one: The original owners of two 50-year old houses both sell around the same time. They had always kept to themselves, but seemed like nice respectable people. New people buy the houses. One is bought by somewhere between three and half a dozen college-age students who probably aren't in college. There are usually three cars in their driveway and one more, which could fit in the driveway, which they like to park in front of your house. This little peice of shit wannabe sports-car import makes it tough to get out of your drive, and blocks you putting your trashcan where you always have on trash day. The second house was bought by a three-generation white trash family, based on what you've seen of them-- grandma, grandpa, young mom (and no father), and at least two school-age children. They keep to themselves and don't park in odd places, but pretty soon you start finding Docshund poo in your yard (theirs is the only tiny dog on the block, so you know). Who annoys you more?
Well, in both instances, you mount a passive-agressive campaign, putting your trash can right where you always put it even though the car is way too close to it, and begin scooping up the dog poo and tossing it back on their land. None of you yeild and neighborhood staring matches are common. How does it resolve? Well, you're still getting little brown presents every day after a long time of this. As for the young punks with the car, turns out they're car guys too and you're now on good terms (with the import parked on their side of the street). Why the shift? You both sized each other up when they moved in and decided you couldn't possibly have anything in common with them and thus decided to act like some Arab states do towards Israel: ignore them and hope they'll go away. But when they were out on their porch drinking beer, you just happened to be tuning on your Oldsmobile and ya'll got to talking. Turns out they're not violent, trashing the house, orinto drugs like they looked like at first. You're not uptight squares, creepy weirdos, or nearly as insane as you looked like at first. You're both interested in getting as many miles out of your beaters as possible, and come to be something near to friends before they're out of beer and you are convinced that you don't have a compression leak. You don't mention their annoying car out front (they do ask what the turning circle of you car is and if you ever have trouble getting out of the driveway), and when you're done talking, one of the guys moves it over in front of their house. That night, you don't call the cops when their keg party (which is suprisingly non-messy come morning) gets loud. You now officially get along with these neighbors and talk sometimes when you're both hanging out on the porch on weekends.
Moral: well, you figure it out, it ain't that tough.
Now, here's a redneck moment my chemistry professor had the other day. Remember, this is a bright, college-educated guy we're talking about here. When he figured out that people were stealing his calculators in between classes, though, his solution was to duct-tape them to three foot lengths of 2x4, when he could have just locked them in his desk. That would have been no fun, though.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The grass may be greener on the other side, but it still has to be mowed
According to my friend, the world record for watermelon-seed spitting is 3.6 yards. 11 feet, people. I've never measured my best shots. But I know that as soon as watermelons are available at King Soopers, I'll be out in the backyard with a camcorder and a tape measure. I know I'm mighty good with a sunflower seed.
Believe it or not, we got on the watermelon seed topic by flipping through and making comments about an atals we found in study hall. In it, there was a picture of a man dressed in old-school Inuit gear, furs and all, riding a caribou. The caribou didn't seem suprised. Neither did the man. There is something, though, that just seems like a bad idea when it comes to hopping onto a grazing caribou. Maybe it's because "hey ya'll, watch this" are famous last words. I know some people who would try to ride a caribou after one or two beers.
Believe it or not, we got on the watermelon seed topic by flipping through and making comments about an atals we found in study hall. In it, there was a picture of a man dressed in old-school Inuit gear, furs and all, riding a caribou. The caribou didn't seem suprised. Neither did the man. There is something, though, that just seems like a bad idea when it comes to hopping onto a grazing caribou. Maybe it's because "hey ya'll, watch this" are famous last words. I know some people who would try to ride a caribou after one or two beers.
Friday, February 29, 2008
U-Hauls, muscle cars, stump rot, and cooking
I'm not really sure when this turned into The Weekly Redneck Digest of Meat, Fire, Motorcycles, and Women, but it has. And I'm okay with that. I kind of like not touching my computer for a week.
So first, a story. Get used to it, I tell a lot of stories. Yesterday at the light rail Park&Ride I saw a U-Haul. Yes, a big ass van, which you can now rent for $20 a day. This made me wonder, why would anyone rent a U-Haul and then take the train to get someplace? They're obviously not moving. Then it hit me. You get headroom, space for passengers and stuff, lots of power, and it's in good condition (generally). If you get in a car wreck and have to rent without a reservation, you can only get a compact car for that price. How shameless do you have to be to rent a U-Haul as a daily driver while the shop fixes up your ride? Well, it takes a lot of nerve. I like the idea. I don't like having to ride around in an underpowered Japanese econobox, hitting my head on the rear window (all 5'4" of me) when someone else is in shotgun. That's when I miss my full-size ride, even with it's little gremlins. Those gremlins don't whack you in the head and cramp your legs. If you rent a U-Haul as a daily driver when you're not moving, you're redneck. Face it, buddy. You ought to be on a Budweiser Real Men of Genius ad. High-five.
Another story. I still have an original Xbox. I still use it. I just found my favorite game, Sega GT 2002. It had fallen behind the TV. So you ain't going to see much of my ass for a while. Send me a suggestion or comment and I'll get back to you, but only after I'm done dragging my 427, 814 horse blown '70 Chevelle. If they had Xbox live for this, I wouldn't even be going to class. Or work. You'd have to roll a grenade under my chair to get me out of there.
So I listed fire in my new description of my blog. Why? I love fire. I love watching fire. I love improving fire. I love cooking with fire. I ran into some of my old friends last weekend, and guess what we did? Yep, fire. They like to take Purell, spread it on newspaper, light it, and then scatter powder such as non-dairy creamer into the fire (like a grain-dust explosion). Not being the criminal sort, they do this on their own property on concrete. But, see, I knew we could do better. Bigger, longer-lasting fire can be achieved with rubbing alcohol. You can burn more stuff, hotter, with stump rot. Oxidizers are fun. Colors can get involved with barium, for example. You can blow things up with just rubbing alcohol. We like blowing things up, but we'll do that later. Turning a soda bottle into a gumball cannon, though, was pretty badass. We had fun with that. That's just our competitive nature: take something cool that they've done and do it better. They're probably working on something cooler right now. I'm okay with that.
So, women. One of my favorite subjects. This is going to have to be a separate post-- I've got a lot to say, but I can't think of any of it.
Motorcycles: For a few years now I've been telling my dad to excavate his crap out of the garage so we can get his motorcycles running again. Given that he's finally started listening to me about "we are going to get at least one of them restored and running before I turn 16," that looks like that could actually happen. Whoo. Classic Massachusetts iron. I also am in the market for a used dirtbike. Just FYI, if anyone happens to have one laying around in the Denver area.
Meat: I feel guilty that my friend has decided to blog about fish (God knows why), has nothing fish-related to talk about, and I know more than I should about fish. I know more than I should about a lot of things. So, here we are. One way to fish in shallow, narrow streams is to spot your dinner, sneak downstream of it, and build a rock dam all the way across the water flow. All the way. If the fish can get out downstream, you're going to be going hungry, so get it right. No need to stop the water, just make sure there are no fish-sized holes. Now, grab a big stick and sneak up (really quiet) behind the fish. Make sure your shadow never goes over or in front of it. Now, whack. Yes, whack the fish. Get it out of the water as quick as possible, too. Once you've got ahold of it and have it on shore, no need to be cruel, put the injured soon-to-be dinner down and clobber his head with a rock. No pain, instant death. Anything over three inches should be gutted. Cook and enjoy (or eat raw--I reccommend cooked). When you're done, don't be an asshole, dismantle the dam. Chuck Norris will come find you otherwise. Now copy-paste, I insist.
Also, more useless fish knowledge: Some salt-water fish are poisonous, but all freshwater fish are edible.
More food: Yes, I'm writing while hungry, can't you tell? In consideration of my readers who stick to a more suburban diet, I promise I won't discuss how tasty pigeon is, or how to cook snake, not in this post. Anyway, I've noticed that when I'm only getting food for myself, I'm a very simple person. If I want beans and ham, I'll open a can of Busch's Maple-Bacon Baked Beans (put 'em on top of your head and your tounge will beat your brains out trying to get to it), open a package of sliced ham, put the ham in the can, turn on the stove (or light a fire), and cook them both at once. Then I'll eat out of the can. But when I'm cooking for other people, I get fancy. I can get real fancy. When I make hamburgers and take them in my lunch, I literally have to fight people off, it looks and smells that good. When we have company I'll cook anything that we have on hand to order. I know a lot of recipes that are just "yeah, that looks about right", but folks love when I'm the grillmaster at the 4th of July barbeque. Seriously, come over sometime and I'll make you apple pie over a wood fire and you will want seconds.
When I'm on my own, if I want mushrooms I'll grab some mushrooms out the fridge, add butter and microwave. If I'm making mushrooms for you, you're getting sautee'd mushrooms in a freakin' root beer-pineapple glaze and carmelized apricots. I can't help it. I don't know where I got this tendency from. it's freaking me out.
So first, a story. Get used to it, I tell a lot of stories. Yesterday at the light rail Park&Ride I saw a U-Haul. Yes, a big ass van, which you can now rent for $20 a day. This made me wonder, why would anyone rent a U-Haul and then take the train to get someplace? They're obviously not moving. Then it hit me. You get headroom, space for passengers and stuff, lots of power, and it's in good condition (generally). If you get in a car wreck and have to rent without a reservation, you can only get a compact car for that price. How shameless do you have to be to rent a U-Haul as a daily driver while the shop fixes up your ride? Well, it takes a lot of nerve. I like the idea. I don't like having to ride around in an underpowered Japanese econobox, hitting my head on the rear window (all 5'4" of me) when someone else is in shotgun. That's when I miss my full-size ride, even with it's little gremlins. Those gremlins don't whack you in the head and cramp your legs. If you rent a U-Haul as a daily driver when you're not moving, you're redneck. Face it, buddy. You ought to be on a Budweiser Real Men of Genius ad. High-five.
Another story. I still have an original Xbox. I still use it. I just found my favorite game, Sega GT 2002. It had fallen behind the TV. So you ain't going to see much of my ass for a while. Send me a suggestion or comment and I'll get back to you, but only after I'm done dragging my 427, 814 horse blown '70 Chevelle. If they had Xbox live for this, I wouldn't even be going to class. Or work. You'd have to roll a grenade under my chair to get me out of there.
So I listed fire in my new description of my blog. Why? I love fire. I love watching fire. I love improving fire. I love cooking with fire. I ran into some of my old friends last weekend, and guess what we did? Yep, fire. They like to take Purell, spread it on newspaper, light it, and then scatter powder such as non-dairy creamer into the fire (like a grain-dust explosion). Not being the criminal sort, they do this on their own property on concrete. But, see, I knew we could do better. Bigger, longer-lasting fire can be achieved with rubbing alcohol. You can burn more stuff, hotter, with stump rot. Oxidizers are fun. Colors can get involved with barium, for example. You can blow things up with just rubbing alcohol. We like blowing things up, but we'll do that later. Turning a soda bottle into a gumball cannon, though, was pretty badass. We had fun with that. That's just our competitive nature: take something cool that they've done and do it better. They're probably working on something cooler right now. I'm okay with that.
So, women. One of my favorite subjects. This is going to have to be a separate post-- I've got a lot to say, but I can't think of any of it.
Motorcycles: For a few years now I've been telling my dad to excavate his crap out of the garage so we can get his motorcycles running again. Given that he's finally started listening to me about "we are going to get at least one of them restored and running before I turn 16," that looks like that could actually happen. Whoo. Classic Massachusetts iron. I also am in the market for a used dirtbike. Just FYI, if anyone happens to have one laying around in the Denver area.
Meat: I feel guilty that my friend has decided to blog about fish (God knows why), has nothing fish-related to talk about, and I know more than I should about fish. I know more than I should about a lot of things. So, here we are. One way to fish in shallow, narrow streams is to spot your dinner, sneak downstream of it, and build a rock dam all the way across the water flow. All the way. If the fish can get out downstream, you're going to be going hungry, so get it right. No need to stop the water, just make sure there are no fish-sized holes. Now, grab a big stick and sneak up (really quiet) behind the fish. Make sure your shadow never goes over or in front of it. Now, whack. Yes, whack the fish. Get it out of the water as quick as possible, too. Once you've got ahold of it and have it on shore, no need to be cruel, put the injured soon-to-be dinner down and clobber his head with a rock. No pain, instant death. Anything over three inches should be gutted. Cook and enjoy (or eat raw--I reccommend cooked). When you're done, don't be an asshole, dismantle the dam. Chuck Norris will come find you otherwise. Now copy-paste, I insist.
Also, more useless fish knowledge: Some salt-water fish are poisonous, but all freshwater fish are edible.
More food: Yes, I'm writing while hungry, can't you tell? In consideration of my readers who stick to a more suburban diet, I promise I won't discuss how tasty pigeon is, or how to cook snake, not in this post. Anyway, I've noticed that when I'm only getting food for myself, I'm a very simple person. If I want beans and ham, I'll open a can of Busch's Maple-Bacon Baked Beans (put 'em on top of your head and your tounge will beat your brains out trying to get to it), open a package of sliced ham, put the ham in the can, turn on the stove (or light a fire), and cook them both at once. Then I'll eat out of the can. But when I'm cooking for other people, I get fancy. I can get real fancy. When I make hamburgers and take them in my lunch, I literally have to fight people off, it looks and smells that good. When we have company I'll cook anything that we have on hand to order. I know a lot of recipes that are just "yeah, that looks about right", but folks love when I'm the grillmaster at the 4th of July barbeque. Seriously, come over sometime and I'll make you apple pie over a wood fire and you will want seconds.
When I'm on my own, if I want mushrooms I'll grab some mushrooms out the fridge, add butter and microwave. If I'm making mushrooms for you, you're getting sautee'd mushrooms in a freakin' root beer-pineapple glaze and carmelized apricots. I can't help it. I don't know where I got this tendency from. it's freaking me out.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I'm definitely a Coloradan
And damn proud of it. But, anyway, I'm not here to profess why I love my home state so much, not in this post. Im here to talk about what I just got in email. I'm too lazy to verify if he actually said any of this stuff, but the following are attributed to Jeff Foxworthy.
_____________________________________
Jeff Foxworthy on Colorado .
( It was only a matter of time before Jeff Foxworthy took a couple of shots at Colorado !)
You are a Coloradoan if ............
1. You switch from 'Heat' to 'A/C' in one day.
2. You know what the ' Peoples Republic of Boulder' means.
3. Your sense of direction is: towards the mountains and away from the mountains.
4. You're a meat-eating vegetarian.
5. The bike on your car is worth more than your car and you have your own special bike lane.
6. You're able to drive 65 miles per hour through 13 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without even flinching.
7. You take your out-of-town guests to Casa Bonita even though you would never go there otherwise.
8. You think your major food groups are granola bars, tofu and Fat Tire Beer.
9. You design your kid's Halloween costumes to fit over a snowsuit.
10. You think that sexy lingerie is wool socks and flannel PJs.
11. You know all 4 seasons 'almost winter, winter, still winter and spring blizzards
12. You've been tear gassed in a riot to celebrate a CU/CSU victory.
13. You can never figure out why your out-of-town guests faint from altitude sickness on a picnic to the mountains.
14. You can drive over a 12,000-foot pass in 4 feet of snow, but can't get to work if there are 4 inches of snow.
15. You know the 'correct' pronunciation of Buena Vista .
16. When you visit friends at sea level, you can drink a case of beer and not get a buzz.
17. Your car insurance costs more than your car.
18. You have surge protectors on every outlet.
19. April showers bring May blizzards.
20. 'Timberline' is someplace you have actually been.
21. You know what a 'Chinook' is
22. You know what a ' Rocky Mountain Oyster' is.
23. You know what a 'fourteener' is.
24. .But you don't know what a 'turn signal' is.
25. A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you nearly as much as a Democrat in Congress does.
26. Your golf bag has a 9-iron, a 3-wood and a lightning rod.
27. People from out of state breathe 5 times as often as you do.
28. Having a Senator named Nighthorse doesn't seem strange.
29. Thunder has set off your car alarm.
30. You have an $800 stereo in your $300 truck.
31. You think a red light means 3 more cars can go.
32. Where we're going, we don't need roads!!
33. You know where the real ' South Park ' is.
34. You can recognize the license plates of all 50 states on sight.
35. Driving directions usually include 'Go over_________ Pass. '
36. You've checked for ticks.
37. You've dressed in shorts, sandals, and a parka with a hood.
38. You've gone snow skiing in July and.........
39. You've played golf in January and.......
40. They were in the same year!
41. You've urinated on the Continental Divide just so it could run into both oceans.
42. You know what a down slope and an up slope weather pattern is.
43. And the most important: You get a certain feeling of satisfaction from knowing that California and Texas are both down stream.
44. You have barbequed in ski gear
45. You actually understand these jokes
_____________________________________
I am now going to list which ones apply to myself or to people I know.
1. It happens a lot.
2. Yes, I do, and I find it to be a yuppie term for a yuppie community that really isn't like what it looks like to snarky suburbanites. Not that I dislike Boulder, I just wanted to make that clear.
3. That's 100% true. I went on vacation to Idaho last summer, tripped me out. I nearly got 180 degrees backwards a few times, and other times I had to wait for the sun to visibly move in order to figure out which way was which. All ya'll mountain rednecks know what I mean. I know where I am in Colorado and which way I'm facing just based off of a few mountain peaks.
4. Once my cousin told me about why she's a vegetarian.... over dinner at a steakhouse.
6. That's how my parents moved back to Colorado. During a blizzard on Ratton Pass.
7. A lot of people can vouch for that.
8. I object to this one and the stereotyping of all Coloradans as neo-hippies. I also resent the stereotype of hippies that you're using. However, this one fits my 7th grade science teacher to a "t."
9. I went as the Abominable Snowman one year. I was going to be Chewbacca, but the snow had other plans.
10. Don't knock it until you've been that cold. If it's that cold in the house and my girl came to bed wearing wool socks and flannel PJs, I'd be like, "yes."
11. True. Horribly, horribly true, but not funny. You forgot the fifth season, though: hot as hell. It goes like this: Winter, still winter, spring blizzards, hot as hell, almost winter again.
13. No, I can't figure that out. My solution, though, is to bring a small oxygen cylinder like for oxyacetelyne welding and have them open that up into a bag and breathe into that for a while. That's what I, a 5280-footer, had to do when I hauled my cameras up to 13,500 feet for the Pike's Peak Hill Climb, on foot from 13,000.
14. Hey, you get an excuse, you use it.
15. Yeah, I do. You got a problem with that?
16. I haven't tried it with beer, but I do know that I'm like a freakin' fish at sea level. I can barely do 30 seconds here holding my breath, but in the ocean I can pull closer to a minute and a quarter.
17. Hey, it's the hailstorm's fault that the car's totaled, not mine.
18. I have expensive electronics, I live on a high high pont in a lightning-prone area. That's just common sense.
19. Like I've been telling anyone who asks about the weather, I am now going to just labor under the delusion that it's summer until it actually is, even if I can't feel my hands when I go outside. If winter needs to reach me, I'll be ignoring the May blizzard.
20. Yeah, you got a problem with that? Driving up to timberline counts as a white-trash Colorado vacation.
21. Grumble grumble grumble grrr.
22. And it's fun to tell the ignorant what they are after they've eaten a few. That said, rocky mountain oysters are tasty, as long as they're well-cooked and you don't stop and think about what it is.
23. Doesn't everyone?
24. That's my mom. She signals after she's already halfway in the lane.
25. Congress itself bothers me, not just one party. But yes, a bear on my front porch wouldn't really bother me. I practically grew up in the mountains of Cascade, what do you expect?
26. I've seen it.
27. That's true, man. I hadn't really noticed until we flew back from sea level one time and I could barely walk a few blocks without sitting down.
28. Nor does meeting a man whose driver's liscense actually listed his name as "Drillbit" at the gas station one time. He smoked Camels, looked to be as old as the hills, and still got carded. Go figure.
29. Thunder, lightning, and one time, hail.
33. Yeah, I do. Luckily, it's not like the other one.
34. Just about.
35. Yeah, they do, and I'll write them on a napkin for ya. If you're nice I'll even tell you if the pass in question is closed.
36. That's just logic, man.
37. Add in a huge old film camera under that parka (to keep 'em dry) and you'll have my dad and I on vacation in Yellowstone during a rainstorm.
41. It's a rite of passage.
42. All too well.
44. I admit that I added this one, but some of the other ones were obviously added by someone in the email chain. Like I said, I'm too lazy to verify all of these.
45. Tragic, ain't it?
_____________________________________
Jeff Foxworthy on Colorado .
( It was only a matter of time before Jeff Foxworthy took a couple of shots at Colorado !)
You are a Coloradoan if ............
1. You switch from 'Heat' to 'A/C' in one day.
2. You know what the ' Peoples Republic of Boulder' means.
3. Your sense of direction is: towards the mountains and away from the mountains.
4. You're a meat-eating vegetarian.
5. The bike on your car is worth more than your car and you have your own special bike lane.
6. You're able to drive 65 miles per hour through 13 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without even flinching.
7. You take your out-of-town guests to Casa Bonita even though you would never go there otherwise.
8. You think your major food groups are granola bars, tofu and Fat Tire Beer.
9. You design your kid's Halloween costumes to fit over a snowsuit.
10. You think that sexy lingerie is wool socks and flannel PJs.
11. You know all 4 seasons 'almost winter, winter, still winter and spring blizzards
12. You've been tear gassed in a riot to celebrate a CU/CSU victory.
13. You can never figure out why your out-of-town guests faint from altitude sickness on a picnic to the mountains.
14. You can drive over a 12,000-foot pass in 4 feet of snow, but can't get to work if there are 4 inches of snow.
15. You know the 'correct' pronunciation of Buena Vista .
16. When you visit friends at sea level, you can drink a case of beer and not get a buzz.
17. Your car insurance costs more than your car.
18. You have surge protectors on every outlet.
19. April showers bring May blizzards.
20. 'Timberline' is someplace you have actually been.
21. You know what a 'Chinook' is
22. You know what a ' Rocky Mountain Oyster' is.
23. You know what a 'fourteener' is.
24. .But you don't know what a 'turn signal' is.
25. A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you nearly as much as a Democrat in Congress does.
26. Your golf bag has a 9-iron, a 3-wood and a lightning rod.
27. People from out of state breathe 5 times as often as you do.
28. Having a Senator named Nighthorse doesn't seem strange.
29. Thunder has set off your car alarm.
30. You have an $800 stereo in your $300 truck.
31. You think a red light means 3 more cars can go.
32. Where we're going, we don't need roads!!
33. You know where the real ' South Park ' is.
34. You can recognize the license plates of all 50 states on sight.
35. Driving directions usually include 'Go over_________ Pass. '
36. You've checked for ticks.
37. You've dressed in shorts, sandals, and a parka with a hood.
38. You've gone snow skiing in July and.........
39. You've played golf in January and.......
40. They were in the same year!
41. You've urinated on the Continental Divide just so it could run into both oceans.
42. You know what a down slope and an up slope weather pattern is.
43. And the most important: You get a certain feeling of satisfaction from knowing that California and Texas are both down stream.
44. You have barbequed in ski gear
45. You actually understand these jokes
_____________________________________
I am now going to list which ones apply to myself or to people I know.
1. It happens a lot.
2. Yes, I do, and I find it to be a yuppie term for a yuppie community that really isn't like what it looks like to snarky suburbanites. Not that I dislike Boulder, I just wanted to make that clear.
3. That's 100% true. I went on vacation to Idaho last summer, tripped me out. I nearly got 180 degrees backwards a few times, and other times I had to wait for the sun to visibly move in order to figure out which way was which. All ya'll mountain rednecks know what I mean. I know where I am in Colorado and which way I'm facing just based off of a few mountain peaks.
4. Once my cousin told me about why she's a vegetarian.... over dinner at a steakhouse.
6. That's how my parents moved back to Colorado. During a blizzard on Ratton Pass.
7. A lot of people can vouch for that.
8. I object to this one and the stereotyping of all Coloradans as neo-hippies. I also resent the stereotype of hippies that you're using. However, this one fits my 7th grade science teacher to a "t."
9. I went as the Abominable Snowman one year. I was going to be Chewbacca, but the snow had other plans.
10. Don't knock it until you've been that cold. If it's that cold in the house and my girl came to bed wearing wool socks and flannel PJs, I'd be like, "yes."
11. True. Horribly, horribly true, but not funny. You forgot the fifth season, though: hot as hell. It goes like this: Winter, still winter, spring blizzards, hot as hell, almost winter again.
13. No, I can't figure that out. My solution, though, is to bring a small oxygen cylinder like for oxyacetelyne welding and have them open that up into a bag and breathe into that for a while. That's what I, a 5280-footer, had to do when I hauled my cameras up to 13,500 feet for the Pike's Peak Hill Climb, on foot from 13,000.
14. Hey, you get an excuse, you use it.
15. Yeah, I do. You got a problem with that?
16. I haven't tried it with beer, but I do know that I'm like a freakin' fish at sea level. I can barely do 30 seconds here holding my breath, but in the ocean I can pull closer to a minute and a quarter.
17. Hey, it's the hailstorm's fault that the car's totaled, not mine.
18. I have expensive electronics, I live on a high high pont in a lightning-prone area. That's just common sense.
19. Like I've been telling anyone who asks about the weather, I am now going to just labor under the delusion that it's summer until it actually is, even if I can't feel my hands when I go outside. If winter needs to reach me, I'll be ignoring the May blizzard.
20. Yeah, you got a problem with that? Driving up to timberline counts as a white-trash Colorado vacation.
21. Grumble grumble grumble grrr.
22. And it's fun to tell the ignorant what they are after they've eaten a few. That said, rocky mountain oysters are tasty, as long as they're well-cooked and you don't stop and think about what it is.
23. Doesn't everyone?
24. That's my mom. She signals after she's already halfway in the lane.
25. Congress itself bothers me, not just one party. But yes, a bear on my front porch wouldn't really bother me. I practically grew up in the mountains of Cascade, what do you expect?
26. I've seen it.
27. That's true, man. I hadn't really noticed until we flew back from sea level one time and I could barely walk a few blocks without sitting down.
28. Nor does meeting a man whose driver's liscense actually listed his name as "Drillbit" at the gas station one time. He smoked Camels, looked to be as old as the hills, and still got carded. Go figure.
29. Thunder, lightning, and one time, hail.
33. Yeah, I do. Luckily, it's not like the other one.
34. Just about.
35. Yeah, they do, and I'll write them on a napkin for ya. If you're nice I'll even tell you if the pass in question is closed.
36. That's just logic, man.
37. Add in a huge old film camera under that parka (to keep 'em dry) and you'll have my dad and I on vacation in Yellowstone during a rainstorm.
41. It's a rite of passage.
42. All too well.
44. I admit that I added this one, but some of the other ones were obviously added by someone in the email chain. Like I said, I'm too lazy to verify all of these.
45. Tragic, ain't it?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
It's gonna be a cold day, Tater.
The title is an adaptation of Ron White's quip about how after he hides M&Ms in his bulldog Sluggo's jowls, Sluggo will look at Ron and say, "It's gonna be a good day, Tater."
My uncle used to live in a trailer in Edwards, Colorado. For those of you who don't know, all of Eagle County is damn cold. This man is a mountain redneck, like many people I am related to. He nearly died a couple of times of that cold until he went deer hunting and bagged a deer big enough to make a blanket out of. He sent it out to get the leather cured ("But leave the fur on!"), and would sleep under that through the winters. He said it was incredibly warm, but when you got up in the morning, if you could exhale and see your breath hit the far wall, it was gonna be a cold day. Of course, that's having no furnace. When you wake up and can see your breath in a heated house, you have a problem. It's gonna be a cold day. I don't even want to consider what tomorrow is going to be like. This morning, my breath didn't hit the far wall, and it's cold in here. Like I said, if you've been running the furnace, you should not see your breath on a mild night.
Let me give you a taxonomy of rednecks. The second-most famous rednecks are the Plains rednecks. Their natural habitat lies primarily in Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and parts of Nebraska and Colorado. Culturally, they thrive on wide-open spaces and tend to have an affinity for horses and ranching. They keep to themselves and like pickup trucks, but mostly as work vehicles, not for being a yahoo. They are generally the cowboy type. hank Hill from King of the Hill is a Plains redneck. The Plains redneck, culturally, tends to do best when allowed to operate with a small-town mentality. If a small town is not available, a neighborhood association will probably be the largest circle of influence that the thinks at. These are often the most partiotic of Americans, and the most mature, being family men, and wont go looking for trouble. Most "white trash" people who fit the definition of redneck would fall into this category, both by geograhpy and by culture. Hunting is a big pastime for the plains redneck, as are other forms of long-gun shooting. The Plains redneck is also the most likely to shoot you if you trespass on his property, and in most states where these people dwell, that is legal.
The eastern redneck dwells in Missouri, Arkansas, parts of eastern Texas, northern Louisiana, Florida, and Georgia. The stereotypical NASCAR fan is comprised mostly of characteristics drawn from the eastern redneck, although other redneck species enjoy the sport. The eastern redneck is the most common redneck in popular culture. The Dukes of Hazzard are best classified in this group. Cars, trucks, speed in general, drinking, and the stereotypical dumbass stunts that most people associate with the state of unsophistication that is being a redneck are all interests of the eastern, or common redneck.
Don't confuse being a redneck with being a hillbilly. I don't have the time to define "hillbilly" and clarify things, but let me say that the two are not mutually exclusive.
The mountain redneck is a unique sort of redneck native to the mountainous regions of North America. Combining traditional redneck traits with a certain mountain ingenuity, the mountain redneck is the Midwest's answer to Appalachia's hillbillies. Mountain rednecks are found all throughout the Rocky Mountain region, mainly clustered in Colorado and Wyoming. The original mountain men of the wild west are considered by many to be the first mountain rednecks.
The high mountain region is, by nature, less forgiving than the more temperate climates of lower altitudes. The mountain redneck has adapted to face these challenges by placing different values on various sorts of mechanical goodies. The street-custom pickup truck of the East is largely supplanted in mountain redneck culture by a more functional truck, including the SUV (not the crossover type, where it is a car with an SUV shell). The Chevy Blazer is to the mountain redneck what the Ford F-150 is to the common redneck. The mountain redneck also tends to be more reserved in his expressions of jubilation, as it is quite easy to go overboard and fall 1000 feet or get stuck and freeze out in the middle of nowhere.
The main discerning feature in determining whether a specific person tends to fall into the mountain or common redneck categories is, actually, their original geography. Coming from a mountain culture and being a redneck makes you a mountain redneck, unless you do not apply your specific twist to the situation. For example, in the situation above, if my uncle did not live at such a high elevation, he would not have that problem, and thus he must either leave the area, freeze, or use the unique skills learned by those who have literally frozen their asses off before.
The entertainment forms enjoyed by the mountain redneck trend more towards hill climbs than with the common redneck, as well as placing more of an emphasis on winter sports and rock climbing. The rodeo is still popular, but far less than in an area consisting of a mix of Plains and Eastern rednecks.
Some people also include the Dakotas and north-eastern Wyoming in the mountain redneck category, as their winters are harsh and the badlands are a unique geographical problem. The experts are still debating this, as we wait to dispatch a delegation of rednecks to South Dakota to counterbalance the reporting bias caused by the fact that there is not much non-biker redneck traffic through the region.
__________________________________________
Also, please note that a common redneck behavior is the towel-steal. Hardly unique to the redneck population, stealing hotel towels is actually a a mainstream activity. However, finding an excuse to stay at the Motel 8, such as attending a race, every time you need a new set of towels even though you can afford new towels from a store is likely to peg you as a redneck, since you don't see why it may make you look trashy to have towels in your bathroom monogrammed in Sharpie next to the Motel 8 logo. At least it's a nice monogram.
My uncle used to live in a trailer in Edwards, Colorado. For those of you who don't know, all of Eagle County is damn cold. This man is a mountain redneck, like many people I am related to. He nearly died a couple of times of that cold until he went deer hunting and bagged a deer big enough to make a blanket out of. He sent it out to get the leather cured ("But leave the fur on!"), and would sleep under that through the winters. He said it was incredibly warm, but when you got up in the morning, if you could exhale and see your breath hit the far wall, it was gonna be a cold day. Of course, that's having no furnace. When you wake up and can see your breath in a heated house, you have a problem. It's gonna be a cold day. I don't even want to consider what tomorrow is going to be like. This morning, my breath didn't hit the far wall, and it's cold in here. Like I said, if you've been running the furnace, you should not see your breath on a mild night.
Let me give you a taxonomy of rednecks. The second-most famous rednecks are the Plains rednecks. Their natural habitat lies primarily in Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and parts of Nebraska and Colorado. Culturally, they thrive on wide-open spaces and tend to have an affinity for horses and ranching. They keep to themselves and like pickup trucks, but mostly as work vehicles, not for being a yahoo. They are generally the cowboy type. hank Hill from King of the Hill is a Plains redneck. The Plains redneck, culturally, tends to do best when allowed to operate with a small-town mentality. If a small town is not available, a neighborhood association will probably be the largest circle of influence that the thinks at. These are often the most partiotic of Americans, and the most mature, being family men, and wont go looking for trouble. Most "white trash" people who fit the definition of redneck would fall into this category, both by geograhpy and by culture. Hunting is a big pastime for the plains redneck, as are other forms of long-gun shooting. The Plains redneck is also the most likely to shoot you if you trespass on his property, and in most states where these people dwell, that is legal.
The eastern redneck dwells in Missouri, Arkansas, parts of eastern Texas, northern Louisiana, Florida, and Georgia. The stereotypical NASCAR fan is comprised mostly of characteristics drawn from the eastern redneck, although other redneck species enjoy the sport. The eastern redneck is the most common redneck in popular culture. The Dukes of Hazzard are best classified in this group. Cars, trucks, speed in general, drinking, and the stereotypical dumbass stunts that most people associate with the state of unsophistication that is being a redneck are all interests of the eastern, or common redneck.
Don't confuse being a redneck with being a hillbilly. I don't have the time to define "hillbilly" and clarify things, but let me say that the two are not mutually exclusive.
The mountain redneck is a unique sort of redneck native to the mountainous regions of North America. Combining traditional redneck traits with a certain mountain ingenuity, the mountain redneck is the Midwest's answer to Appalachia's hillbillies. Mountain rednecks are found all throughout the Rocky Mountain region, mainly clustered in Colorado and Wyoming. The original mountain men of the wild west are considered by many to be the first mountain rednecks.
The high mountain region is, by nature, less forgiving than the more temperate climates of lower altitudes. The mountain redneck has adapted to face these challenges by placing different values on various sorts of mechanical goodies. The street-custom pickup truck of the East is largely supplanted in mountain redneck culture by a more functional truck, including the SUV (not the crossover type, where it is a car with an SUV shell). The Chevy Blazer is to the mountain redneck what the Ford F-150 is to the common redneck. The mountain redneck also tends to be more reserved in his expressions of jubilation, as it is quite easy to go overboard and fall 1000 feet or get stuck and freeze out in the middle of nowhere.
The main discerning feature in determining whether a specific person tends to fall into the mountain or common redneck categories is, actually, their original geography. Coming from a mountain culture and being a redneck makes you a mountain redneck, unless you do not apply your specific twist to the situation. For example, in the situation above, if my uncle did not live at such a high elevation, he would not have that problem, and thus he must either leave the area, freeze, or use the unique skills learned by those who have literally frozen their asses off before.
The entertainment forms enjoyed by the mountain redneck trend more towards hill climbs than with the common redneck, as well as placing more of an emphasis on winter sports and rock climbing. The rodeo is still popular, but far less than in an area consisting of a mix of Plains and Eastern rednecks.
Some people also include the Dakotas and north-eastern Wyoming in the mountain redneck category, as their winters are harsh and the badlands are a unique geographical problem. The experts are still debating this, as we wait to dispatch a delegation of rednecks to South Dakota to counterbalance the reporting bias caused by the fact that there is not much non-biker redneck traffic through the region.
__________________________________________
Also, please note that a common redneck behavior is the towel-steal. Hardly unique to the redneck population, stealing hotel towels is actually a a mainstream activity. However, finding an excuse to stay at the Motel 8, such as attending a race, every time you need a new set of towels even though you can afford new towels from a store is likely to peg you as a redneck, since you don't see why it may make you look trashy to have towels in your bathroom monogrammed in Sharpie next to the Motel 8 logo. At least it's a nice monogram.
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