Small Towns; Southern as can be[:

tumblr. the place where i can blog about how much i hate my life and all thats going wrong? yeah. i use it. 

My south is drinking sweet tea out of mason jars while you’re eating some homemade pecan pie; sitting on the front porch swing in cutoff jeans and bare feet covered in red clay. The ole red, white, and blue waves in the breeze and through the screen door you can barely hear the Braves playing on the TV over the sound of the cicadas. My south is Sunday dinner at grandmas with the whole family and having fried chicken, homemade macaroni and cheese, and fresh corn on the cob with homemade peach ice-cream for dessert.  After dinner we get the fishing pole and walk down to the pond. On the way you might catch a flash of white as a deer bounds away. My south is learning to drive your daddy’s Ford down some back road at the age of twelve and trying to drive just like Dale Earnhardt while George Strait plays on the radio. My south is Realtree, Wranglers, Carhartt, and Justin’s.  My south is racing your cousin to the top of a magnolia tree. My south is going to the high school football games on Friday nights and then watching USC play football on Saturday. In my south we have southern hospitality; if you’re standing in line somewhere you talk to the people around you, if you know them or not. We have southern pride; we’re proud of where we came from. And we have those southern accents. We’re the type of people who you can’t help but love, even with all of our flaws; and if you do hate us then all we have to say is ‘Bless your heart.’ We know how to insult you and make it look like it’s a good thing. We think honesty is right and lying is wrong. In my south you don’t mess with a girl because if she ain’t got a gun then her daddy does. In my south, you love your momma, Jesus, and Jason Aldean.  This is my south and i want to stay here for  forever.