White Trash Tales

Posts Tagged red neck

The Original White Trash Tale

Jun 30

Posted by Jonathan in The Saga of Baby Doll, White Trash Tales

You have to start somewhere

You have to start somewhere

The inaugural White Trash Tale, as with many of the other stories you will read here revolves around our lost friend Gary. You see, after he met Tonia he dropped out of sight. As is often the case with a new relationship, he didn’t have time to hang with the boys. We were amazed, however, with the speed and precision that Tonia employed in extricating Gary from our group. After only one blow-j behind the air conditioning unit at her mother’s house Gary was lost to us forever. It should be noted that, up until a few weeks ago, any Alamance County resident could receive similar treatment from Tonia for a mere $40.

Because Gary was totally off the radar we had to rely on 3rd parties to feed us knowledge of his whereabouts. One day Bobby received a call from one of Gary’s ex-girlfriends. She had stayed close with Gary’s family long after the break-up and they had been telling her things about Tonia’s actions that she found disturbing. So she called Bobby to try and prompt an intervention.

The story she told was this: Tonia had been inviting men over to their trailer while Gary was at work. Seeing as how the trailer occupied the same land as Gary’s parent’s house and as such was in full view of said house, it probably wasn’t the most discreet thing she could be doing.

Rather than tell Gary what the love of his life was up to, his mother decided to confront Tonia directly. This altercation ended with Tonia smacking her future mother in law across the face and advising her to mind her own damn business. When Bud (of Jar Tree fame) caught wind of Tonia slapping his wife, he marched down to the trailer, kicked the door off it’s hinges, grabbed Tonia by the throat, and told her that if she ever lay hands on his wife again he would hit her so hard that it would forever ruin her only means of income (I am paraphrasing here).
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At Least It Could’ve Been KFC

Jun 23

Posted by Allie Jo in Allie Jo's Exploits, White Trash Tales

You can dress 'em up...actually, no you can't

You can dress 'em up...actually, no you can't

Traveling four hours to a wedding in Pennsylvania was a little inconveniant. Especially since I didn’t know either party getting hitched. I went with my boyfriend who had painted houses with the groom when he was in college. As we crossed the Mason Dixon Line, I had a sinking feeling that I was going to be out of my element. I wish that I could say that it was a lovely wedding. The ceremony itself was fairly normal until the best man busted out in the middle of the ceremony with “Love Bites” on his electric guitar.  Did I mention that the groom was released from prison two weeks before the ceremony? I’ve no idea what he did to get in jail, but that wasn’t relevant on his day of wedded bliss.

We were actually the fourth and fifth people to arrive at the local V.F.W. where the reception was being held. We were led to the basement by an elderly woman who told us that normally receptions were held upstairs, but it was Bingo night and they didn’t want to upset the regulars. We sat down at a table and watched people frantically set up the food table. Suddenly, a middle-aged man in a navy blue satin jacket came racing in carrying a styrofoam cooler. Skeeter (and yes, that was his actual name) had ridden his bike over to Hardee’s to pick up the food for the gathering. I know that it came from Hardee’s because the cooler broke into pieces in front of me and fried chicken came flying out of the bags and landed at my feet.
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At The Drive-in

Jun 22

Posted by Jonathan in White Trash Tales

Our county's two drive-ins before they turned to smut for profit.

Our county's two drive-ins before they turned to smut for profit.

The drive-in movie is one of those lost pieces of Americana that has sadly gone the way of the quill pen, rotary telephone, and manual typewriter. You would be hard pressed to explain the concept to a kid today without breaking out a copy of American Graffiti and even then you would have to get past their confusion about why the creator of Star Wars was able to make a movie that didn’t feature Jar Jar.

There was a time, however, when teenagers flocked to the drive-in to ignore moths and mosquitoes that flew in front of the projector while a poorly reproduced soundtrack crackled from shitty speakers attached by hook to a partially rolled down driver’s side window. All the while scarfing down popcorn and, with any luck, practicing making babies in the back seat. At least that is the drive-in experience that has been romanticized in popular culture. By the time I was born things were a bit different.

The 70’s were a decade of death for the drive-in. Though there were plenty still in operation (our county had two working theaters), it was clear that the activity was on the decline. In an attempt to remain economically viable, one of our theaters, the infamous Circle G Drvie-In, had changed over entirely to adult films. Allowing lone movie goers the freedom to rub one out in the privacy and comfort of their own vehicle. Keep in mind that this was long before the VCR made pornography a living room event for more discreet perverts.
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