Creamed Possum
Jun. 15th, 2009 11:13 amFor you non-Southerners, this isn't real. It's a joke. Aunt Tudi is our lovely spokes model. She once won Star Search.
Critter of Habit (thoughts on the South)
Jun. 17th, 2006 01:11 pmThe "traditional" term is Creature of Habit, but I have decreed that, in the South, we only have Critters of Habit. This epiphany came to me when Aunt Tudi was telling me about Motley's daily ritual of coming in around lunchtime, eating a buttload of food until her belly looks like a baseball, and then lying down on the orange couch to take a several hour nap. I proclaimed that Motley was indeed a Critter of Habit. Now, if she were a cat living in Brooklyn, she'd be a Creature of Habit. But she's not a Brooklyn cat, although she'd do well in Brooklyn, I think. Motley is a little ruffian and could definitely hold her own with the city cats in the alleyways.
But she's a Southern cat, which means she's not a wise-ass alley cat, but a hell-raisin' Redneck cat. And she's a Critter of Habit.
This summons up my feelings about the South and being Southern. Before the Internet, I was profoundly ashamed of my heritage, so much so that I've almost totally eradicated my accent. I sound nothing like the other members of my family on the Father Unit's side. The Mother Unit's fam is bit harder to pin down. G'Pa was born in England, but lived most of his life in NYC, or so I believe. I could be wrong on this. The Grandmother Unit was born in SC, but escaped to NYC at a very young age and never came back, living there and California for the majority of her life. Both of them globe-trotted, being musicians and Bohemians.
Being Southern in the US means that you're automatically judged as an inbred idiot with no education. At least that's how I saw it and, honestly, I was led to see it that way because of the US media's treatment of the South. I've told people over the years that I'm a product of the New South, that generation that schluffed off our Old South albatross, masked our accents, and stressed the fact that we were contemporary and educated. It's a ruse, of course. I've come to realise that one can still be educated and have a horrific Southern accent. I'm doing my best to deprogram myself and not think "idiot" every time I hear a Southern accent.
I say "a" Southern accent because there's more than one. Sometimes I think that non-Southerners believe that there's only one accent, much like a lot of Americans think that there's only one British accent. Not true. In fact, accents can vary drastically within just 100 miles. The Western North Carolina accent isn't as "thick" as the South Carolina Upstate accent. We in WNC don't trill our "r" when saying "three," but SC Upstaters do. We say "flim" for phlegm, but Upstaters say "fleem." A lot of people in this area call Yvonne "WHY-vonne," whereas she's simply Yvonne in NC. In the South Carolina Low Country, the traditional accent is a lot like what you hear on TV, where it's assumed that all Southerners pronounce Southern like "Suthun." No. That's pretty much a Low Country and coastal Georgian phenomenon to my knowledge. Bostonians and Charlestonians say "park the car" a lot alike. They know no 'r's in their language.
Anyway, I digress. As I was saying, before the Internet, I despised being Southern. Now, not so much. Being exposed to so much diversity has made me realise how precious diversity truly is, including my own unique spot on this Earth. I can get away with saying "critter" and I now say it with relish. I enjoy the fact that nothing here is big; rather, it has to be big ole. My ability to tap into my Inner Southern has become a prideful thing to me. The method of Southern expression is sometimes the only way to describe a thing, and only a true born and bred Southerner can describe it in the way it needs to be.
I got a hint of this while working with Timothy, who is Southern through-and-through. He explained to me that dogs don't have fights; instead, they "waller down a bunch of ground." And you don't take up a gun and shoot a deer; instead, you "throw up and cut down" on it. Very descriptive, very accurate, and these expressions can not be uttered with anything but a Southern accent. Tim is one of the smartest human beings I know, and he's one of the biggest Rednecks I know, too. At the time, I would look down my multi-cultural New South nose, and tell him that I would never say such a thing. Now? Yeah, I probably would, simply because I'm one of few who really can.
So, to quote a former co-worker, "I said all that to say this:" my cats are all Critters of Habit. To be honest, so am I. Yee haaaaah!
But she's a Southern cat, which means she's not a wise-ass alley cat, but a hell-raisin' Redneck cat. And she's a Critter of Habit.
This summons up my feelings about the South and being Southern. Before the Internet, I was profoundly ashamed of my heritage, so much so that I've almost totally eradicated my accent. I sound nothing like the other members of my family on the Father Unit's side. The Mother Unit's fam is bit harder to pin down. G'Pa was born in England, but lived most of his life in NYC, or so I believe. I could be wrong on this. The Grandmother Unit was born in SC, but escaped to NYC at a very young age and never came back, living there and California for the majority of her life. Both of them globe-trotted, being musicians and Bohemians.
Being Southern in the US means that you're automatically judged as an inbred idiot with no education. At least that's how I saw it and, honestly, I was led to see it that way because of the US media's treatment of the South. I've told people over the years that I'm a product of the New South, that generation that schluffed off our Old South albatross, masked our accents, and stressed the fact that we were contemporary and educated. It's a ruse, of course. I've come to realise that one can still be educated and have a horrific Southern accent. I'm doing my best to deprogram myself and not think "idiot" every time I hear a Southern accent.
I say "a" Southern accent because there's more than one. Sometimes I think that non-Southerners believe that there's only one accent, much like a lot of Americans think that there's only one British accent. Not true. In fact, accents can vary drastically within just 100 miles. The Western North Carolina accent isn't as "thick" as the South Carolina Upstate accent. We in WNC don't trill our "r" when saying "three," but SC Upstaters do. We say "flim" for phlegm, but Upstaters say "fleem." A lot of people in this area call Yvonne "WHY-vonne," whereas she's simply Yvonne in NC. In the South Carolina Low Country, the traditional accent is a lot like what you hear on TV, where it's assumed that all Southerners pronounce Southern like "Suthun." No. That's pretty much a Low Country and coastal Georgian phenomenon to my knowledge. Bostonians and Charlestonians say "park the car" a lot alike. They know no 'r's in their language.
Anyway, I digress. As I was saying, before the Internet, I despised being Southern. Now, not so much. Being exposed to so much diversity has made me realise how precious diversity truly is, including my own unique spot on this Earth. I can get away with saying "critter" and I now say it with relish. I enjoy the fact that nothing here is big; rather, it has to be big ole. My ability to tap into my Inner Southern has become a prideful thing to me. The method of Southern expression is sometimes the only way to describe a thing, and only a true born and bred Southerner can describe it in the way it needs to be.
I got a hint of this while working with Timothy, who is Southern through-and-through. He explained to me that dogs don't have fights; instead, they "waller down a bunch of ground." And you don't take up a gun and shoot a deer; instead, you "throw up and cut down" on it. Very descriptive, very accurate, and these expressions can not be uttered with anything but a Southern accent. Tim is one of the smartest human beings I know, and he's one of the biggest Rednecks I know, too. At the time, I would look down my multi-cultural New South nose, and tell him that I would never say such a thing. Now? Yeah, I probably would, simply because I'm one of few who really can.
So, to quote a former co-worker, "I said all that to say this:" my cats are all Critters of Habit. To be honest, so am I. Yee haaaaah!
Earlier today I went to spend some time with Llew. We looked at pictures of rc planes and the latest photo compositions of my beastie pals. He felt puny and I, having my Moon, felt and feel like warmed over yak genitals, so we cuddled and yapped more than anything else. He hadn't seen my bruised face and was rather alarmed by its appearance. Joking, Llew made the comment that he'd never have to beat me, if he was that kind of man, 'cos I come pre-beaten. Yeah right! I guess so.
I think that Billy Ray Cyrus should make a TV country music version of Brokeback Mountain about a mullet-wearing country singer who's seen his better day hooking up with a cowpoke from Oklahoma. It could be called Achy-Breakyback Mountain.
On the agenda tomorrow:
Yeah, we're having 0 Winter here in Da Souf and that sucks. If we don't get some sufficiently cold weather before Spring hits, the mosquitoes are going to be large enough to throw saddles on and ride about playing Joust, like in that old video game with the ostriches. It's not gonna be pretty. We were pretty much overrun this past year with bugaboos of all sorts because we didn't have a decent Winter last year. If it happens again, we're gonna be featured on one of Sci-Fi's big mutant animal Saturdays. I hate the South when it comes to the weather. I want snow. Lots and lots of snow. Feet of it. A blizzard. A total white-out. That's what I want. I want subzero temperatures for days on end, killing off the sleeping larvae or eggs or whatever they are so that I can actually go outside in the Summer without having pints of blood sucked out of me within 5 minutes.
It's taken me several hours to write this post because I haven't been able to keep my mind on what I was doing. I'm incredibly bored and apathetic with everything at the mo. It's not anything but my Moon. Ho-hum.
I think that Billy Ray Cyrus should make a TV country music version of Brokeback Mountain about a mullet-wearing country singer who's seen his better day hooking up with a cowpoke from Oklahoma. It could be called Achy-Breakyback Mountain.
On the agenda tomorrow:
- Take Motley for her shots and first healthy kitten check-up. While there, set up grooming appointments for the dog-dogs and have the dudettes make note that both Riley and Chester need their Bordatella shots whilst getting their arses scrubbed.
- Call Fidelity and tell them to send me my money dammit, now now now, dammit now!
- Run about the front yard praying for some actual fucking Winter!
Yeah, we're having 0 Winter here in Da Souf and that sucks. If we don't get some sufficiently cold weather before Spring hits, the mosquitoes are going to be large enough to throw saddles on and ride about playing Joust, like in that old video game with the ostriches. It's not gonna be pretty. We were pretty much overrun this past year with bugaboos of all sorts because we didn't have a decent Winter last year. If it happens again, we're gonna be featured on one of Sci-Fi's big mutant animal Saturdays. I hate the South when it comes to the weather. I want snow. Lots and lots of snow. Feet of it. A blizzard. A total white-out. That's what I want. I want subzero temperatures for days on end, killing off the sleeping larvae or eggs or whatever they are so that I can actually go outside in the Summer without having pints of blood sucked out of me within 5 minutes.
It's taken me several hours to write this post because I haven't been able to keep my mind on what I was doing. I'm incredibly bored and apathetic with everything at the mo. It's not anything but my Moon. Ho-hum.
