Television can be evil

When we got back to school on that Friday night we decided to go to a party and tell people what just happened. Naturally, no one believed us. Our other roommate knew that we went and her response was that “the show will never air.” We taped the show in April and waited impatiently for it to air. Finally, after calling the show on a weekly basis, we had a day in May that it would happen. I was a little bummed because I wanted it to air when I was in school just to see people’s reactions, but school was out for the summer.

The show aired and I watched it with some friends back home. My mom told me that she didn’t think that it was fake after she saw it. I assured her that it was. I had an ex-boyfriend call me and tell me that he had just seen me on t.v. and I was on every television set in Circuit City. People kept calling throughout the day and, to be honest, I was glad when things settled down a bit.

Fall arrived and we all headed back to school. While I was moving my things into my apartment, two guys who were moving in down the hall stopped me and said, “Were you on Jenny Jones?” I told them that I was and then had to explain to them that it was all a joke. I don’t know whether they believed me or not. Our friends who had seen the show stopped by to talk about it and congratulated us on a job well done. The first day of classes arrived sooner than we wanted and Sara and I headed to our English class. The professor walked in and began checking the roll. When he got to me he looked at me quizzically, paused and then went on to the next name…which happened to be Sara’s. He put the roster down and said, “You two were on the Jenny Jones Show a few months ago!” We told the story again.

The semester progressed as usual, but we were still being recognized almost everywhere that we went. While walking across the quad one afternoon, a girl stopped me and asked if I had ever been on the Jenny Jones show. When I told her yes, I started explaining to her the entire story. After I was finished, she looked at me and remarked, “You’re just telling me that now so that I won’t think that you’re a bitch. I think you are!” and with that, she walked away. Sara and I were eating lunch one day off-campus and these three female basketball players kept looking at us and whispering. One of them asked, “Were you guys…” and before she could finish I blurted out, “on Jenny Jones? Yes.” As much as I thought that I would enjoy this attention, it really was becoming aggravating. I was so sick of the story that whenever I’d retell it, I’d leave out a little more each time.

The following summer Sara and I went to Las Vegas to visit her mother. While we were in the bathroom of one of the casinos, a lady walked out of her stall and said, “You two were on that talk show!” then proceeded to tell us our story. How do people remember that?! I wouldn’t recognize someone from a talk show at any time, much less a year after the fact. One of the funniest things that was said was when I was at a party at Ari’s aunt’s house. Everyone had gathered on the deck and she was talking to some friends of hers. She called Ari and me over and said, “Ask them about being on Jenny Craig!” Her guests looked mortified. I’m guessing they thought it was rude to discuss our dramatic weight loss publicly. Ari corrected her and we told the story again.

Overall, the experience was wonderful. We got a free trip out of the deal and were small-time celebs for a moment. Would I do it again? I doubt it. Actually a producer from the show called me several months after it had aired and asked if I’d be willing to come back on the show. I told her that things had worked themselves out: Ari and I had split up (over the money from the show, sadly) and Sara and I were sharing a room in an apartment. There were no fights at all and we were living happily ever after. “Well, could you come on and say that you and Sara have something going on with one another now?” Are you kidding me?! I politely declined, hung up the phone, and turned on the t.v. to where it all began.

This is how they saw us

Catch up with Part 1 and Part 2 first.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before we run out of time, I’d like for you to meet Allie and her roommate Sara. They’re roommates and they live together (um, okay) and they’re fighting over the same man. Allie, tell us your story.”

“Sara started dating Ari and when he first came over to pick her up, we hit it off. I just want her to butt out of our relationship!”

I won’t go into every single thing that was said, but the story involved me stealing Sara’s “date dress,” wearing it out with Ari and “accidentally” spilling spaghetti on it. Then I sat behind them at a movie and I made snide remarks throughout about how he wanted me and not her. Sara and I yelled at each other. Ari, the paid one, was really earning his money by saying very little. He defended me a couple of times from Sara, but the hard part was still to come. The audience.

Jenny opened it up to comments from the audience and it was Allie Jo season. A large woman with a lovely t-shirt that had anchors all over it stood up and said, “Ari hasn’t made a commitment, not to you or to her. So what gives you the right to tell your friend to butt out, baby?” “Because I love him,” was my answer. “Booooooooo!” from the audience. Another girl stood up and said, “I’m here with my roommate and I would never do anything like that to her. I mean all you’re doing is acting like a little slut!” The audience cheered. WTF?! Ari got pissed off at this point and stood up to tell everyone that I wasn’t a slut (thanks for defending my honor), but they edited that out of the show. I need to point out that this young lady waited for me after the show and came at me like a pitbull. Luckily, the car had its door open so I escaped.

Our story went on, taking twists and turns. All of us were having to think on our feet, but we were hanging in there like champs. I told of a time when I invited Sara to come home with me for Easter just to get her away from him. I also mentioned that she had called Ari and told him that I was sick and couldn’t go out that night. The she came into my room and told me that he had called and something had come up. I was called “a spoiled, selfish brat” by a woman with a nasty perm. Another lady told Sara to move because she had “a real scary roommate.” A lady with one tooth who was actually picking her nose as she stood up to talk, said that it was like Single White Female” and Sara was Bridget Fonda.  I mean, no one was defending me. One person in the audience did, and that was edited out as well. So yeah, I was the villain and there was no turning back. I had my role and I had to run with it. I mean, Sara’s make-up and hair were soft and pretty. I looked like a whore. I really did. Coal black eyeliner around my eyes and streaks of blush up my cheeks. Someone could have added up all of the make-up that I’d worn in my entire life and it wouldn’t have come close to that mess!

During the commercial breaks, Jenny would get people in the audience to ask questions so she’d know who to go to when we went back on-air. A lady brought out some water for us and said, “MMMMMM, and you say you guys are friends.” I was being judged by the water lady?????!!!!  Back on air and time was running out. I had to do it. I’d been planning a line to use (possibly all my life in some situation) and the door was opened by a large woman who was wearing all red. If the audience wanted to hate me. Fine. But I wasn’t going down without upsetting the crowd even more. “He doesn’t love you like that. Why are you willing to throw away your friendship if he doesn’t love you?” The camera zoomed in within inches of my face and I said two words that would send me into bitchdom forever: “He’ll learn.”

You would have thought that I had sacrificed a puppy in front of the crowd. Actually, I think that would have garnered me some support from the folks. The place erupted. Shouts, yells, moans, screams…good lord. I had succeeded. Jenny had to ask again what I had said because even she didn’t believe it. “Did you say ‘We’ll learn’?” she asked as the crowd shushed. “Yeah, he’ll learn. He’ll come around one day!” At this point on the tape, you can see me choking back the laughter. Literally. The corners of my mouth were turning up. I shut my eyes to think of baseball or something and you could see me swallow hard. Ari went on to tell Jenny that I was a lot of fun and we had a great time together because I was outgoing. “Well, she doesn’t look like a lot of fun to me. I mean, she doesn’t look happy.” Thanks Jenny, but you know what? I just got a free trip to Chicago for my boyfriend, my best friend, and all on you. No fun, my ass…

At the conclusion of the show, Jenny told me that I needed help because of my obsession, but didn’t offer any to me. As we piled into the limo to take us back to the airport (after I had warded off Big Mama coming after me with my backpack) I couldn’t help but to laugh, along with Ari and Sara. Even though the story didn’t go off as planned, it still went over well and I was proud that I could mark another goal off of my list. When I arrived back at the airport, I called my mom to tell her that I was back. “How was your trip to Chicago?” she asked sarcastically. Before I could answer, someone was being paged in the airport and she heard it. “Oh my god, you really did it, didn’t you?” she gasped. “I told you that I was,” I replied. I thought it was over, but I hadn’t seen anything yet until the show aired…

Links:

Part 1

Part 2

This is what the audience wanted to see.

Be sure to read Part 1 First

Our flight into Chicago was uneventful. Since we “hated” one another, we weren’t placed beside each other on the plane (the show set that up). Once we got our bags we were greeted by a limo driver holding a sign that read “The Jenny Jones Show.” I could NOT believe that this was going to happen! Our driver took us around the city, showing us points of interest. Finally, he dropped us off at our hotel which was very nice.

We decided to go to dinner together. I mean, what were we supposed to do. The most difficult part in all of this was acting like I hated Sara. There we were in Chicago and we couldn’t even enjoy it (or act like we were). All of us were scared of being outed as phonies so we didn’t talk at all in the street or at dinner. Jenny Jones picked up that tab as well. Once we got back to the hotel, we all went our separate ways since we had an early morning the next day. As I was flipping through the channels, I saw what I thought looked like porn. I flipped back and by golly it was! I quickly called Sara and Ari and asked them both if they had it too. Nope.

The next morning we were greeted by a rep from the show in the hotel’s lobby. We walked a few blocks, being blown by the wind the entire time (no wonder it’s the windy city). When we reached the studio we saw signs for Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones (they both taped in the same place). Hopping on the elevator, I could hardly contain my excitement! The assistant led us to our green rooms. I was shocked when Sara and Ari were put in the same room and I was the outcast.

In my room, there was another girl sitting there. We sat there in silence for a little while and then the small talk ensued. She was from Utah and she was in beauty school with her former friend who, I assumed, was in the other green room. I can’t do the room justice, but I’ll try. We had a very small television that only had one channel and even that had static, there were two warm, flat Cokes, and two stale sandwiches. Whatever. A new lady came in and said that she was there to do our hair and make-up. While she was working on me, she told me that she did make-up for Playboy and “those girls don’t look anything like that in real life.” While I was getting gussied up for my debut, assistants kept running in and out, asking us questions about our stories and then telling us that the other girls were saying terrible things about us. This went on for an hour. When both of us were ready, we were sitting on the couch waiting to be called onstage. The door opened and Jenny herself was standing there. I was soooo excited!!!! “So you’re the other women,” she said coolly. Ouch. She asked us some questions and, I’ve held my tongue long enough, she was a bitch. At least to us.

By the time we were standing backstage Sara and I were actually pissed off at one another. We had NEVER had a fight and I was furious with her for being so nasty about me and vice-versa. The audience erupted in cheers and we walked out on stage. The first love triangle went first and told their story for a half an hour. Audience members booed and clapped and were really going after the guy. Whew! I was safe. The original plan was for us to fight and then realize the error of our ways and leave as one big happy family. We were sitting on stage the entire time so it was a little uncomfortable sitting in front of everyone and not talking. Finally it was our turn.

Next time: Batter Up!

Links:

He’ll Learn To Love Me: Part 1

Could you lie to this woman?

“Allie, when you get off drugs and come down offa your high, you can call me back and talk sensibly to me. Until then, I don’t want to hear from you!” And on that note, my mother slammed down the phone. Wow! I didn’t expect that. All I was doing was calling her to tell her that I was about to board a plane for Chicago to be on the Jenny Jones Show. Now when I say I was going to be “on” the Jenny Jones Show, I mean just that. None of this “I’m-gonna-sit-in-the-audience-and-be-on-t.v.” nonsense. That’s not my style. When I go, I go big.

It started as a prank. I love practical jokes more than anything else. It was a warm day in April 1993 and I was watching television with my roommate, Sara. While flipping through the channels I stopped just in time to hear the announcer say, “If you’re two friends fighting over the same man, give us a call. You could be a guest on our show.” Before I actually thought about what I was doing, I had the phone in my hand dialing the 800 number. I knew that I’d only be able to leave a brief message on the show’s voicemail, but it was worth a shot.

“Thanks for calling the Jenny Jones Show. What’s your story?” the female voice chirped. It wasn’t a recording. Adrenaline kicked in and I started rambling about how my roommate had been dating this guy and I’d stop at nothing to have him. I had seen enough of Basic Instinct, Single White Female, and Fatal Attraction to concoct an amazing story. “Well, I’ll pass this along to the producers and we might call you back if they’re interested.” I walked back into the common area, a little dejected. “I tried,” I told Sara. She went to work and I headed out to class.

An hour and a half later I got back to the apartment and I checked my voicemail. “Hi Allie, this is Julia from the Jenny Jones Show. Could you please call me back collect?” OMG! OMG! OMG! I frantically dialed the number and when she answered I could hardly contain my giddiness. I related the entire story to her and she told me that she needed to talk with Sara to verify our story. I gave her Sara’s work number and called her as soon as I hung up with Julia so I could give her a heads up. Luckily, she had been in the room when I was making up the story earlier in the day, so she knew the basic idea of what was going on.

After a few minutes, my phone rang again and it was Julia. “Hey, I need the name and phone number of the guy involved.” Shit! I hadn’t thought that far in advance. I didn’t know any guy who would go along with this story except my boyfriend, Ari. I blurted out his name and number, hung up the phone, and ran over to his apartment. He lived only a building or two away from me so I made it just in time to spew the same story to him before the phone rang. “Make me sound like a bitch,” I hissed. He went along with the story and hung up. “She said she’d be in touch,” he told me. My hopes of going nationwide were being dashed until later that evening. My phone rang and Julia informed me, “Okay, your story is great. We want you on the show. What’s the closest airport to you?” I told her and she added one more tiny detail: ALL of us involved had to go.

“But we need all three of you,” Julia told me. Ari had zero interest in going on the show. “I know how they tear guys up on that show. No way!” I begged, pleaded, offered sexual favors (not really), but he resisted. When Julia called him back, he told her the same story. For ten minutes they went back and forth: him trying to NOT be on the show and her trying to get him on there. Then I started hearing him talking numbers with her. WTF?! “Nah, I’m not doin’ that for $200. No way.” Back and forth again and the numbers kept getting higher. Finally he said, “600 dollars?! I’ll do it.” She agreed to pay him, but he was told not to tell either of us about the money (we were getting a free trip to Chi Town, that was good enough for us; plus we didn’t even think that getting paid was an option.

“I’m in,” Ari said after he hung up the phone. “We’re leaving tomorrow evening at 5:30.”

Next Time: Winging it in the Windy City

On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times; 
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.

All Boy Scouts are required to memorize and recite the above oath.  Some of the members of Troop 25 were able to memorize it…but none of us took it to heart.  In fact, we violated every single tenet of the oath in morally reprehensible (and often criminal) ways.  Let me give you an intro to the sordid history of Troop 25 from 1981-1984 by breaking down each line of the Boy Scout Oath…

On my honor I will do my best
When you think of the Boy Scouts, you probably visualize upstanding young citizens, who are eager to learn about camping and nature.  Our troop was comprised of under-achieving miscreants…many of whom did not make it past the 9^th grade.  I can’t recall a single occasion when any member of our troop showed any excitement for anything scout-related.  When we were forced to participate in activities, there was always some sort of uprising that led to one or more “scouts” being paddled and/or banished from the troop.

To do my duty to God and my country
I had never said “Goddammit” before joining the scouts.  Our scoutmaster didn’t mind us chewing tobacco or trading Hustler magazines, but he would get pretty upset when we took the Lord’s name in vain.  So naturally all you heard at our meetings was a bunch of delinquent teenagers running around saying “Goddammit” every other word.    

and to obey the Scout Law;
We didn’t even obey the real law.  For example, the whole troop was thrown in jail overnight on a beach camping trip for drinking beer in the parking lot of a grocery store.  Most of my stories about Troop 25 fall into this category.  Also, we lied and cheated to get just about every rank and merit badge that was “awarded” to us.

To help other people at all times;
If by helping people, you mean “keying” their cars and pissing on their tires…then yes, we helped people.

To keep myself physically strong,;
You had to try to be reasonably fit to protect yourself from the violent man-child rednecks that comprised our troop.  But in reality, I survived mainly due to my sense of humor, and by befriending the black guys.

mentally awake, and morally straight.
I had to be “mentally awake” to avoid having the criminal record that many of my fellow scouts carry with them to this very day.  I don’t think anyone who stayed with the troop more than 2 weeks was “morally straight”…but I never ratted anyone out, so that has to count for something.  Even in this forthcoming series of articles, I shall endeavor to protect the guilty.

Would have preferred this type of swinger

Read Part 1 First

My husband and I left the pool area and headed down to the beach so we could swim in the ocean and laugh at what we just had witnessed. Well, who comes bounding down the beach in our direction? All three couples. We had been spotted and they were coming in for the kill.

I swam closer to Chris and looked over his left shoulder. I whispered in his ear, “Please look behind you and tell me that what you’re seeing and what I think I’m seeing are the same thing.” He casually turned around and said, “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I think it is.” The guy from Missouri was holding the girl from Missouri by her shoulders as she floated on her back…with her bathing suit bottoms off…while the girl from PA was, how should I say this delicately, pleasuring her orally. Yep, she went down south. She was eating at the Y. She was diving for muff. I think you get the idea. Chris went over to them and said, “You guys need to take that to the room. This is a public beach and there are kids around.” It was four in the afternoon. They laughed and one of them said, “We’re just trying to have a good time.”

Apparently we were the party poopers. We headed in the opposite direction and were met by the AK couple. He engaged me in conversation (or was trying to) as his wife wrapped her legs around my husband. Chris threw his arms in the air to show me that he was having nothing to do with this. I heard her say to him, “You probably came out of the womb fucking. Well you’ve met your match today!” She leaned in like she was going to kiss him and he pulled away. Her husband looked at me and said, “Does that bother you?” When I said that it did, he replied, “Why? You know who he’s going home with tonight. Why should that bother you?” I just looked at him and said, “It just does. Now either you can tell her to get off of him or I’m gonna pull her the fuck off of him!” His eyed widened and he called to his wife, “Baby! Baby! Stop!”

Well, she did. But not before pulling off her bathing suit top and pushing Chris’s face in her boobs. She pulled him away and said, “Whattya think of these tits?” He looked at me and then looked at her and said, “Um, they’re okay.” She flipped and screamed, “OKAY?! As much as I paid for them they should be more than okay!” and then kicked him in the nuts. By that time, we knew that we were in over our heads. The girl from PA swam over to me with the girl from AK beside her and tried pulling me into their three-way kiss. When I pulled away from her, she just looked at me. I said, “I don’t judge, but I’m just not into that. Sorry.”

As I let the girls down easy I looked about twenty feet behind them. Having sex in the water was the couple from Missouri. With the guy from Arkansas standing within a foot of them coaching, “Oh yeah, keep ‘er going’ Keep ‘er goin’. Don’t stop. Let ‘er finish. Take ‘er to the end.” That was it. I couldn’t take any more of this. It had gone beyond creepy and freaky. I looked at Chris and he had the same look in his eyes as I had. While we were saying goodbye to the guy from PA, coach came over and grabbed me by the wrists. “Where are you goin’? We’re just havin’ fun.” I told him that it was late and we needed to get ready for dinner. He looked at Chris and said, “I’m not gonna fuck your wife. I mean, I would fuck her, she’s fuckable, but I’m not gonna do that. But how would you like to see my wife and your wife get it on?”

By that point I wanted to vomit, but he probably would’ve been into that too. Chris and I made a hasty retreat to the room and we started laughing. “The very first people that you ever meet and introduce to me on vacation are swingers. Nice job.” I  was just happy that it was our last day and we wouldn’t have to see them again, ever. We went to dinner and hung out that evening, still trying to comprehend what had gone on. The next morning, we went down to the buffet and Chris left a little before I did so he could get our bags. While I was leaving the restaurant, I was thinking how lucky I was not to see them there. “Virginia? Is that you?” For the love of Abraham! It was the guy from Alabama wanting to chat it up. I shook my head no and quickly walked through the door and into the safety zone.

Nope. Not this type of swingers.

As outgoing as I am among people that I know, if you get me around strangers I’m an instant introvert. However, if you get some alcohol in me, that changes (as evidenced in other W.T.T.). While vacationing in Cancun this past June, my husband thought it would be funny to enter me in a beer drinking contest at our resort. There were only two problems with this: 1. I don’t really drink and 2. beer isn’t my drink of choice. But like the little trooper that I am, I took one for the team and chugged. Thankfully it was how quickly one could drink the beer and not how much. I came in second to a large Mexican “woman.” I say “woman” because she had a mustache and I swear she was a man in drag. Anyway, here’s where it gets a little ugly.

After the contest, I decided to swim over to the bar and get a beer for the husband and a pina colada for myself. As I was sitting on the bar stool waiting for my bevies, a guy about my age asked if I wanted to do a shot with him and some other people. Naturally I said yes. After the group shot-taking, he asked this kid next to me how old he was (did I mention I was tailed by a youngster on my way over?) and the kid said that he was 20. “Get the fuck outta here! I’m old enough to be your daddy!” Then the guy asked how old I was and when I told him, he asked if I was alone or with someone. I pointed out my husband in the crowd and he told me to come back over because he “needed to party” with people his own age.

I was so proud of myself! I swam back over and insisted that my dear husband meet my new pals. He was reluctant at first, but I insisted. When we got back to the bar, my buddy was still there with his wife and two other couples. Couple #1 was from Arkansas. He was a K9 officer and she was an eighth grade English teacher. Couple #2 was from Missouri and I have no idea what either of them did. Couple #3 was from Pennsylvania. She was a student and he worked for the Flyers. Good people just enjoying the sun and conversation. Suddenly I looked over and saw the women in the group showing their boobs to each other. Okay, whatever. No big deal. Granted this was a family-friendly resort and we were next to the kiddie pool, but oh well.

A few minutes later, I looked over to see the woman from PA licking the nipple of the woman from AR. Whoa! But we were having a nice conversation with the gentlemen from the group so I ignored them. A few minutes more passed and then I saw the woman from Missouri full-out making out with the one from PA. Um , okay. I’m not close-minded and who am I to judge so I still didn’t say anything. It eventually got so bad that the manager came out and asked the ladies to leave the pool area. My husband and I laughed about it and headed to the beach since the show was over. But we were soooooo wrong!

Next Time: Things get a little NSFW

I’d never been to Fayetteville. I’d never been to a masonry competition. I’d never chaperoned an overnight field trip. So yeah, count me in!

The next week all of us were off. Six boys,four girls, and the masonry teacher packed into a white van heading down 95 south. The kids were talking and laughing and I was getting to know Mr. Williams a little better. We worked at the same place, but I’d only said hi to him in the hallways. He was telling me that when we got to the hotel, I’d have my own room and I didn’t have to go to any of the competitions, but just hang around at night and take the kids to the mall if they wanted to go. Sounded more than reasonable to me. Then we got to the hotel.

Mr. Williams asked me to stay with the kids as he checked us all in, so I did. When he made his way back through the masses of teenagers that had swarmed the hotel, he told everyone to head on down the hall to their rooms. As we walked, I asked him if I could have my room key.

“Oh yeah, there’s been a mistake. Your room was given away so you’ll have to share a room with me.” Oh sweet mercy, this is not happening! I would have to share a room with a 50 year old married man. “Um, okay,” I said hesitatingly. I walked into the room and exhaled as I saw two double beds. Well, at least I wouldn’t have to share a bed with the old coot. After a while, his buddy (another teacher) came into our room with a brown bag. He proceeded to give Mr. Williams a drink of Hennessy and had one himself. I declined. The kids came by the room and asked if I’d take them to the mall. I was out the door in an instant!

When we were on our way back to the hotel after a couple of hours hanging out at the mall one of the kids said, “Yeah, Mr. Williams was real happy that you said you’d come with us. He said that he thought you’d like to party.” “Yeah, I’m chaperoning a field trip with teenagers, partying is the last thing I need to be doing,” I replied. Another girl chimed in, “Well, you know why he wanted us to ask you to go, right? He thinks he’s gonna get some from you later on. His friend that was supposed to room with him took your room to make it easier.” Glad I had such a stellar reputation. I knew that I had to get out of that room. Quickly.

I went to the front desk when we got back and asked if they had any rooms available. Nope. So I flew to the nearest pay phone in the lobby and frantically started looking for hotels in the yellow pages. I called every single one of them. No rooms at any inn. With the competition being one for the state, all of the hotels were booked. I slunk back to my room and prepared for the night.

Mr. Williams was a little looped when I got to the room and his friend was hanging around, but left soon after I came back. I said I was going to bed and went into the bathroom to change. Luckily, I was in my flannel phase and not in the hot sexy lingerie one, so that made things a bit easier. I crawled into my bed and he was already in his. I tucked the sheets and blanket tightly around me, like that was going to keep him away if he wanted some. Ten minutes or so passed and then I heard from the darkness, “Ooooo, my back is killin’ me! I sure could use a back rub.” Sweet merifcul banana biscuits, I needed a plan and fast! So I did what any self-respecting gal would’ve done: I made snoring sounds and ignored him. “You awake over there?” he asked. More snoring and a grunt.

The next day I went took the kids to the competition and stayed as far away from Williams as I could. That night it was the same deal. I was snug (sleeping with one eye open) in the bed and he was across the way asking for a rub down. More snoring. At 1:20 a.m. the phone rang. I answered and it was a lady from another hotel. Two of our girls had crept out and were partying with some guys from another school. Salvation!!!!! I went and picked them up, lectured them about the dangers of doing something like that, and insisted to Mr. Williams that I needed to sleep in the girls’ room in case they tried to do it again.  “But they don’t have an open bed,” he replied. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” I muttered. So I did. No blanket, no pillow, just me and some carpet.

The next morning, I went back into the den of sin and gathered my things. Williams had left a present for me: a license plate that said “BRICK. It’s harder than you think.” I put it in my bag and was happy that bricks were the only things that got laid on that trip.

1. “I told that son of a bitch…” >>>> “Ah tol’at sumbitch”
2. “He was killed recently” >>>>> “Ee dun got kilt”
3. “Mother Fucker” (normal) >>>>>”Muh’er Fuuukir”
4. “Mother Fucker” (with Marlboro) >>> “Murrrfrrrkr”
5. “Hey Boy” >>>>>>> “Hoay bo-uh”
6. “Boat” >>>>>> “buh-oot” (1 syllable)
7. “That truck right there” >>>>> “ ‘at trrk rot-tar”
8. “We sell beef” >>>>> “Wooy say-ul buh-eef”
9. “I think that belongs to you” >>> “Areckon ‘ats yorn”
10. “I frightened him” >>>> “A-dun skeerd eem”

I hope this lesson puts you well on your way to mastering the basic concepts of speaking W.T. STAY TUNED FOR MORE…

There had better be some big-ass mosquitoes nearby to justify this option...

In my opinion, 18 year-old girls look hot in boots and shorts. 60 year-old men do not.

Aunt Jemima...on the auction block.

Goddammit.

Yes, that's Skoal in her back pocket.

I found out last week that an agricultural festival and tractor auction called “The Old Thresher’s Reunion” was going to be within driving distance. People from all over the southeast come to this festival to camp out and show their old tractors and farming equipment. I knew that I had to go to this event and document it, so I headed down there on July 3rd. Here’s a run-down of the day’s proceedings:

9:00 am: I arrived at the fairgrounds in Denton, NC. The parking lot was a gigantic field. There was a long line of cars (and by cars I mean 4-wheel drive trucks with all manner of deer hunting stickers on them) waiting to get in.

9:15 am: I paid $13 dollars for a ticket to look at old tractors and farm equipment.

9:30 am: I walked into the fairgrounds area and started looking around. Immediately I realized that I stood out like a sore thumb…my t-shirt had sleeves and I did not have boots on. Right away I noticed two pregnant teenagers.

10:15 am: It was obvious that every time I pulled out my iPhone to take a photo or video, people looked at me like I was holding an instrument of Satan.

11:00 am: I headed down to the auction area. I saw a man in his mid-sixties, casually talking to his peers before the tractor auction. I noticed this guy because he was sporting denim shorts…and he was wearing cowboy boots.

11:30 am: There was a small auction that appeared to focus on any kind of redneck paraphernalia. For example, a Dale Earnhardt Jr. car that doubled as a billiard light was on the block. The highlight of this auction was an “Aunt Jemima” statue. As far as I could tell, this statue was the only non-white entity within 25 miles of this festival. Nobody bought “Aunt Jemima”…

12:00 pm: The tractor auction was due to begin at any moment. At least 1,000 people were tightly packed around a bunch of dilapidated tractors to see who would buy them. I started noticing how quiet and emotionless all these people were. Were they having fun? I don’t know. The overall vibe I got while standing in the crowd was that these people were inescapably drawn to this event, like moths to a flood light.

All of a sudden, the auction began. I admired the speed at which the auctioneer spewed out his gibberish. The auction company had a team of assistants who worked the crowd by pointing at them, while whooping and hollering. It appeared that only about 5 people were doing any sort of bidding. The rest of the crowd just stood there, as if they had been placed in a trance by a snake charmer.

1:00 pm: I was getting hungry, but there weren’t many options. The only food vendor on this end of the fairgrounds was a carnival trailer advertising Chinese food. I had grave reservations about the quality of Asian food at an event like this. There was no one in line…which not surprising considering that most good ol’ boys and gals are petrified of anything that ain’t served with cornbread and cole slaw. So I walked right up to the window of the trailer and ordered something akin to pepper steak, but made with sliced up steak-ums. Yum.

1:30 pm: I ventured down into the camping area to see what people were displaying and peddling in front of their tents and campers. There were a lot of neat old “hit and miss” engines on display, and I saw an old Porsche tractor. Little did I know that the highlight of the whole event would be found sitting in these shady woods…it was a semi truck (from the Smokey and the Bandit era) with some sort of RV Camper slapped on top of it. I can only hope that one day my photo of this vehicle will find its way back to me in the form of a chain email filled with pictures of rednecks and their antics.

2:00 pm: I stood on the upper rim of the giant bowl arena that was designed to showcase the tractor pull event that was to be held later in the day. I should point out that the event staff called it an arena…I would describe it as a big fucking crater that they dug out. The only activity going on in the arena at this point was a demonstration of a sheep-herding dog terrorizing a group of sheep.

2:30 pm: I was standing in line at a lemonade stand when I happened to notice that the girl in front of me had a can of Skoal in her back pocket.

3:00 pm: It was finally time for the tractor pull event. This was supposed to be the highlight of the day. Thousands of people were sitting on the bank around the “arena”. I expected the crowd to erupt with a joyful noise once these things started roaring and dragging a weight sled behind them. But that did not happen. It was disappointingly silent. I so wanted to hear chants of “Git R Dun” and shit like that, but there was nothing but the occasional polite clapping. Dammit!