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12:24 p.m. - 2005-10-01
Assholes gone wild.
I am THE BOMB!!!!

Actually, Sixweasels and I are THE BOMBS!

Not only did we accomplish a 5 mile, challenging terrain hike aound a beautiful lake, not get lost, and live to tell about it, but managed to drive 3 hours back to The City, and we stayed up till 3am - witnessing two bloody brawls, with nary a scratch on our persons.

This morning, I hurt. Calves, thighs, hamstrings, booty, shoulders, neck...

But, it was all worth it. Because I rule!

This afternoon we head off to the big festival in The City, followed by the big meet-up with a fellow D-lander at The Bar.

They all wanna get a piece of The Bar. Its the hotbed of civilization as we know it. Toothless old men playing Volare on the juke, letcherous drunks pouncing on poor Six the minute the find out she's a soon to be single, and testosterone/redneck sentiment infused fist fights over...??? Someone looked at someone elses bitch the wrong way maybe?

Or ... this is my personal favorite... someone got in a fight, and I got a drop of beer on me to I have to get all in it and throw my big ole belly around and throw fists.

Now, I understand that to a certain element, this is the thing to do. I get it. Some sort of modern nod to the ancient art of the pre-duel slap on inteh face.

However, I do consider myself fairly modern, and a conniseur of lusty historical romance novels in which men frequently duel to preserve a maiden's honor. So, I get it. However, when said redneck got a splat of beer on his shirt, he proceeded to roll down the aisle, get puched, knock into me and Six, and spill not a drop, but an entire bottle of beer on our persons.

Given standard protocol, the proper reaction would have been for Six and I to "git all up in that" and throw our weight around, sticking our fingers in this man's eyes, pulling his nearly non-existant hair, kicking him in the shins, or if we have the great fortune to knock him on his ass, kick him in the head.

But, Six and I, though greatly exposed to the Redneck Way, chose to refrain from "gittin all up in that", and choose not to hit anyone. After all, it was only an inadvertant splash of beer. It stinks in the morning, but really, and much as we pour into our persons, how very insulted coudl be possibly get by having a bit splashed into our hair? In fact, I've been known to throw a beer into my hair on occasion as a beauty treatment. It makes my hair shiny.

So, if Six and I were mildly affronted, yet refrained from fist to fist contact, why in God's name couldn't one nosy, opinionated, attention whoring redneck keep his scrawny ass out of something that had nothing to do with him in the first place, thereby not escalating an already annoying display of ignorant redneckness?

And if you ask whether I addressed it as such to said "gittin all up in that" redneck as such, I say yes. In fact I did.

And what did said "gittin all up in that" redneck have to say back to me?

Absolutely nothing.

There comes a time when a Zen has to show a bit of her Celtish side and speak her mind when and how she sees fit.



It is not my intention to say that all people who are ignorant and/or redneck are bad. There are some very good ignorant and/or redneck people out there who are just that. Not knowing, red of neck or not knowing and red of neck.

But then you combine the two, and add in a goodly dose of bad attitude or attention whoring, I wil call you bad and call you bad to your ugly damn face.

Bloody fist fights are biohazardous, and I do not appreciate being exposed to potential deadly agents because some asshole doesn't think his flaming asshole is quite big enough yet.

OK. Done.


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