Reason number 1 that I was meant to stay the hell home: The Rapture!
Ya'll the rapture is happening this Saturday. Do you know what that means? That means I'll be eating barbeque, banana pudding, fried chicken and actual Biscuits for the rest of eternity instead of steak and kidney pie, blood pudding and cookies called biscuits which cannot be nearly as good as actual biscuits because think about the last time you had an awesome, buttery, flaky biscuit and said to yourself while eating it 'You know what? I'd rather have a cookie.' Never happened right? Of course not. Why? Because biscuits are amazing. The idea being that if you're yanked immediately into Heaven this Saturday you're probably going to spend a significant amount of time in the regional holding area because there are a lot of people in the world going to evaporate at the same time and I would definitely rather be in Southern purgatory than British purgatory. One word: biscuits. Tell me I'm wrong.
Reason number 2 I was supposed to stay the hell home: Potato Salad cookoff.
Yes I just said potato salad cookoff. Pick yourself up off the floor and dust your jealousy off because you're going to want to be here now. Apparently the last time I was at my aunt's house I commented on how much her potato salad tasted like mamaw's potato salad (Mamaw would be my grandmother for those of you that need a translation.) and this was a personal affront to my mother who has been secretly perfecting her own potato salad recipe and who is also on the way over here right fucking now with her finished product. And a lasagna because she is Southern and needs to feed someone. God I hope she put paprika on top of the potato salad. If I was on an airplane to England you know who would be eating potato salad? The dog. Another Win for Anna Gray.
Reason number 3 I was meant to stay the hell home: At least you can understand the words that come out of my mouth.
This really isn't a reason but a justification because I need one. Because I'm not done talking about this. Sorry, shrug. I've decided that if said chick exists which he says she does so that's got to be at least a 75% chance because I've met you boys and you can really only believe 3 out of 4 things you say. No hard feelings or anything. But this is what I've decided. I was talking to my one token Yankee friend the other day and explaining the situation to him and he said 'Oh but Anna, that English accent. That's sexy.' and I said 'Tim, that's bullshit. You cannot understand the words that come out of their mouth.' He then said 'Oh but wait! You have an accent' and I said 'Duh. At least you can understand the words that come out of my mouth' and he said 'I don't know Anna. It took me a little while to understand you. I never knew my name had two syllables until I met you.' Then I had to think a minute and I came back with the best retort ever, 'Whatever Tim. I'm fucking awesome and you fucking know it,' to which he replied 'Yeah you are but she's probably really young. You can't fight that.' Which is true. So that's what we're going with until we hear different. It's not that she's awesomer than me because let's face it, I'm awesomer than the most awesome person you know making me the superlative of awesome: awesomest. Plus the age of consent is younger over there so there's that.
Bingo. Bring on the potato salad.
Depending on how the potato salad is served could depend on if missing the vacation is worth it.
ReplyDeleteOmg it was totally worth it. God it's days like this I love being Southern. And binging. I love binging too.
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