LuckyNumbrXIII said
I lived in Myrtle Beach for 3 years, met some of the coolest people there.  It’s a good 50% people from up north that were sick of bad attitude northerners.  So it was 50% nice southerners, 50% nice northerners that were chased out of the rat race metro areas.  Dunno how it is now.  People told me it’s basically the Jersey Shore now.

Yeah I have a close Letter friend who has been there a year. She is neutral about it. She’s from here.

My other friend from here lives in Charleston SC and loves it. My nephew moved to GA and hates the racism.

 So happiness is where you find it. Northern “bad attitudes” is also a stereotype homie. Its just not true. The southerners have equally shitty attitudes. The difference I saw was that the southerners are nicer… at first. Give them a year, they’ll show their true colors. 

One time when I was walking late to school this kid form the top floor yelled out, “Why don’t you go back to the circus, you dirty juggalo!”

In that town there are a lot of juggalos and there’s a lot of tension against juggalos. There are people that will yell out “JK” (juggalo killer) from their cars. I remember one time in class these girls started laughing when they found out that the author of Harry Potter was named J.K. Rowlings. One time these kids drove passed me and started throwing full soda cans at me because I was a juggalo. Didn’t hit me, but I still was pissed off. One time at night I was walking with my uncle, my brother, and this fat pig named Edgar. Some kids drove passed throwing food at us which pissed Edgar off, he was like, “I don’t mean to sound like a fat ass but that’s good food, guys, there are starving kids in china” fucked up thing is we saw them drive up to Reams, and they came back with newly bought two leaders and threw them at us. It was kind of funny actually. I laughed at that. This one time while walking to reams I did the thriller dance in front of a parked car. They got pissed off and revved up their engine as I got to the other side to seem scary or something. Then they drove into the gas station parking lot to yell out “fuck juggalos” and when I, alone, walked up to their car full of people saying, “you’re just mad cause I dance better” they drove off like little bitches.

I’d like to step and give props to sexylette420 for her use of “douche canoe” oh my god im dying. Much as i did when @slumerican502 used douche nozzle elsewhere. I didn’t know anyone said that shit but me and my friends. Shouldve known we werent that clever, either way, fucking hilarious

Happy FLH Birfday to me (been here posting a year now, woohoo!)

-ahem- moving right along…

Let me drop an experience that my wife and I endured at a small town NC Wal-Mart. Keeping in mind, as I’ve stated, that I’m from an EVEN SMALLER TOWN in NY. Actually, there’s two stories that come to mind.

1. We were at that Wal-Mart in NC, and we purchased two different kinds of grapes that were nonetheless the same price per lb. There was an elderly caucasian woman working the check-out. At first she was friendly, talkative. We joked a little. She was slightly confused at our mishmash of different grape strains in one bag, then said “oh, that’s okay, hon” when we reminded her that they all cost the same anyway. I was purchasing alcohol as well, and she took my license, which was still NY state. She said something about the ID, then her smile dissipated. A scowl took its place. Ever see the demon’s faces change in “The Devil’s Advocate”? Well, we kept trying to make small talk, and after scanning a couple more things, she reached for the bag of grapes, shredded the plastic open with her bare, who-knows-where-they’ve-been hands, and proceeded to separate the fruit by color. She literally said “we don’t play that shit around here”. . . my prayer is that a Yankee physically assaulted her ancestors and she felt the sting of sour history all through her vile Southern veins. Fuck her. Fuck Wal-Mart too, I shouldn’t have been shopping there in the first place. But the Piggly Wiggly and Food Lion were too far away.

2. Our last week living in NC (we’d had MORE than enough), and we had a yard sale. I tried to call it a rummage sale to the preacher at work, but he didn’t know the word, so I simply called it a yard sale. You should’ve heard him try and decipher the word “rummage”… anyway, it was a fucking humid, mosquito-infested heat wave. Like the worst time to hold a yard sale, but we had to, since we were fulfilling our last week’s notices at work and then leaving. It was so hot that for the two days we had the sale, we had to shut down around 1 pm each day, at the apex of the heat assault. It was over 100 degrees and sticky.

We lived in a cinderblock house in a little town called Snow Hill (how ironic, as there were neither). Behind us was a trailer park, mostly inhabited by Mexicans and African-Americans, respectfully. We knew that they had an envy and unhealthy desire for some of the things we worked for (which weren’t much actually, but the Yankee grass is always greener, ain’t it, ya’ll?). A woman would call and ask us to make payments for our car for sale, which HA! I wasn’t born yesterday. I don’t let anyone make payments to me. . women would show up at our door claiming they were in trouble, but just wanted to get inside to see what we had (next to nothing, again)…. so at this yard sale, I realized two things about Southerners:

—- A.) That both the black and the white folks were stingy fucking haggling cheapskates.

—- B.) The Mexicans were jovial and fair, not afraid to pay what we asked.

A heavyset black woman in a white t-shirt with the one front pocket, full of smokes, began haggling us over our one most expensive book for sale. We had boxes of books for sale for $0.50, .025 and FREE. The ONLY one we sold for a clean George Washington was a brand-new, hardcover cookbook that my wife had recently bought for $35 fucking dollars. It was mint, and an awesome cookbook…. the lady immediately began haggling me to sell it for cheaper. I told her the deal, politely. She insisted, by saying “Ya’ll can’t be comin’ up ’round ‘ere with them big city prices, we just simple country folk.”

I chortled. She glared. I asked her, “Ma’am, do you know where I’m from? I grew up on a place called HOGBACK ROAD in ——, NY! HOGBACK ROAD! There was a farm directly across from our shack! Yes, it was literally a shack until we built a real home. I’m more country than anyone I’ve met here, so if you don’t like our prices, then maybe you ought to go home?”

She huffed and puffed, defeated, and reached for her sword and shield, aka her pack of smokes in her big titty pocket. She fumbled a smoke a walked home. 

Big city prices.

Psyral… If you could go ahead and post that to every thread from now on, that’d be great. Mmkay.

Oh, er, yeah, happy birthdayish-thing, OMD.

Put them painted balls away. ……

Hell yeah @psyral-infection .. I’m mesmerized by her chest tat cus I’m so beat… nice