Bacon Dress

I come from a long distinguished line of White Trash, so don’t think I’m knockin’ it all that hard, but like there comes a point that you need to look at yourself and say – hmm. Have I taken this just a little too far?

Case in point: camping last weekend. Now nothing should make us WT feel more comfortable than being in our native environment of the Ozarks, but that does absofuckinglutely not excuse us from waking up after a long night of binge drinking at 6:30AM and playing that goddamn ooooooooooh waaa aaaah aaah aaah song at full volume on repeat until the entire camp is awake and furiously hung over. Nor does it excuse you from deliberately and drunkenly splashing me while I’m sitting and likely peeing in a lawn chair that I’ve sat in the river, and drinking my fucking Natty Light. I do NOT want to get pisswater in my beer, so back the shit off, Junior. And yes, I have a blood relative named Junior. Not like, William Jr. Just Junior. So I feel that I am more forgiving than most on this subject and still would twist this guy’s head off like a buck-toothed Ken doll.

Just because we’re White Trash doesn’t mean we need to be intrusive dicks about it. This is about all of us White-T uniting in peace and harmony, and boobs, and mullets, and lake beer. I have a dream…

My weekend was a sea of bad hair, lukewarm beer, and badass shows.


I present to you:

Summie’s KickMore Ass than a Ninja Cage Fighter on Roids Weekend: The Vicarious Edition


Friday, Lizzard and I were The Only Adults Sans Children to attend Walking with Dinosaurs. And of course, we were half lit and cussing like whoa, so I’m sure we taught some chitlins a few new words. Hee hee.



Then we finished our night basking in the lounge glory that is Al Lotta and his unbelievable toupee.



Saturday, Nellorz and I got our faces rawked off by Scott “Oh My God, so Fricking HOT” Weiland at Rockfest. Even though, you know, he’s gonna die like any minute what with the heroin addiction and all. BUT, Stone Temple Pilots was absolutely amazing and we danced and screamed and jumped around, and I even peed myself a little (just a LITTLE) when they played Down. MONEY!



I couldn’t secure any video of the mullets and grotesque sunburns we saw everywhere, but I can assure you that you never ever want to see the tan lines of a white trash dude’s wife beater after he’s taken it off too late and thus overemphasized his man nips with their stank white contrast. So, uh. You’re welcome.

I’ve been meaning to blog about this for like evAR, but I’m entirely too busy and important to keep up with my offensive commentary on current events (read: playing World of Warcraft.) Anywho, let’s talk about this guy.

First of all, what do you MEAN nobody suspected that this asshat was a psychotic, incestuous, freak of a rapist? Every motherfucker that does creepy shit like that looks exactly like this guy:



Crazy pube hair? Check. Dead-terrifying-shark-eyes? Check. Child molester facial hair? Check! How the ass did you not see this coming?! Just looking at his picture makes me feel carsick because I can tell he’s a perv! Can you imagine living next to him, or worse…MARRYING him?!

Which leads me to my second incredulity; do you really expect me to believe that you had no idea that this sick asshole had a dungeon? What, he tells you not to go to the basement and so you just like, don’t? Dude, if my hubby told me to stay out of the basement, the first thing I’d do is to go straight downstairs and see what the hell he’s hiding. But then again, I would never marry a dude who has the whole Manson/bin Laden/Ramirez look in their eye because nothing good can come from that. Ever.

And I don’t want to be a huge dick here, but like if I were trapped in a dungeon for 24 years, and my dad was raping me, leaving me with his demon spawn, and threatening me with death if I try to escape…I’d rather go down in a blaze of glory. And yes, you’re right that she has had an entirely different experience than me and is probably fucked up beyond imagination, but I like to think that people have enough nature to overcome nurture and do what’s right. And sometimes that might mean killing the bastard that locks you in a dungeon and rapes you a lot.



And to cleanse the palate of such unpleasantness I bring you a fitting Craption:

Dear Heinous Virtual Coworker,
I totally hate your ass face. Thanks a lot for doing a shitty job of communicating what it is that you need done, then publicly blaming me for fucking it up to everyone and their fricking mother's dog's gay boyfriend. Just seriously learn how to do your job, m'kay? Fill out the request like a big boy, print it off, roll it up, and then you can shove it up your ass.
Sincerely,
Summie
P.S. You suck ballz

Dear Aging,
Fuck you, dude. You are terrible! I used to be able to go out for happy hour and enjoy a cold beer or three without getting so shit-faced that I eat an entire frozen pizza then promptly barf it up. I also used to be able to walk up two flights of stairs without gasping for breath like the god damn fish from the Epic video. And wtf is this with the crows feet shit? God, I hate you.
Kisses,
Summie

Dear Knockout Boy,
You were truly every woman's dream at roller derby on Saturday. Shirtless, beautiful, supporting your kick ass team, and carrying a BABY. And not just any baby, but an adorable one who was dressed as a roller girl and had her own derby name: P-Nut. My uterus is screaming right now.
Love it,
Summie