Ever had a table decorated by deviled eggs, fried chicken, cornbread dressing, sweet potatoes, fried green tomatoes, green bean casserole, hash brown casserole, brown sugar glazed carrots, pimento cheese grits, fried okra, fruit salad, biscuits, pecan pie, and three pitchers of sweet, iced tea before one o’clock? That’s dinner, y’all.
Because half-assed petting zoos of questionable ethics connected to shitty gas stations along the highways are totally a thing here.
Eat a pea for each day of the year with a side of greens, and you’re pretty much guaranteed a year’s worth of unlimited prosperity and wealth.
If you’ve ever shared a mason jar of blackberry cobbler or apple pie flavored moonshine with your boss at a work Christmas party, you’re officially Southern. Cheers!
So every single syllable word is now at least two.
One minute that batshit crazy, tent church down the road is handling snakes and drinking strychnine, and the next, they’re organizing a prayer group to bless a football game later that night. You’ve learned to just roll with it and try not to plan any unrelated events on Game Day because you know that no one will come.
Fried green tomatoes and deep-fried okra are still considered vegetables, right?
Even if it’s completely unintentional, at some point in your southern life you’re bound to encounter a group of hobbyists who just can’t let it go. You’ve learned to prepare yourself for a pretty repetitive outcome every time.
Because if you don’t wave first, you’re weird. If you don’t wave back to someone, you’re a total dick.
Mind you, a catastrophic event means snow and snow means half an inch of slushy mess.
Green bean casserole loaded with bacon bits, broccoli cheddar soup and creamed spinach boiled with chicken stock, home-style butterbeans soaked in pork fat – it’s a dangerous world out there for Southern vegetarians.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but is this unsweetened bullshit a fucking joke?”
It’s like a regional sauna.
Shrimp and grits, catfish and grits, fried grits, smoked gouda grits, lemon garlic grits, berries and honey grits, grit cakes, pimento cheese grits, spicy grits, sweet grits, grits everything.
*Drools*
It’s a freakin’ contraction. Why not use it?
“Sure, one of you threw up in my laundry basket and let my cat outside while she was in heat, and the other ate all of my leftovers, but y’all are more than welcome to come back any time! …dickheads.”