Saturday, May 24, 2008

I'll Have A Sweet Tea, Please.

Well, I am back from vacationing in Sarasota and I have to say that I had an excellent time. It rained most of the time and the ocean was rough until the last 12 hours of the vacation. At which time the sun popped out, the humidity vanished and the ocean was glassy and the most amazing shade of turquoise. Ah, are such a bitch. But on to the reason for this blog post.

I once visited the beautiful city of Chicago and had the pleasure to dine at many different places while I was there. Each time I would order a drink in the restaurants, I would inevitably order my usual staple of sweet iced tea. The first time I did, I was brought a glass of iced tea and three packets of sugar. I looked at the waiter with the most clueless expression I could muster, and he said to me (in a mocking southern drawl) "We don't do 'sweet tea' here. This is a glass of iced tea and you can add your own sugar to it."

FCB (Fat Cranky Bastard for the new folks) had to restrain me from slapping the mock right off the little fucktards face. I then went on to explain to the obviously mentally challenged waiter that you can't add sugar to iced tea because the sugar wouldn't dissolve due to the cold temperature of the beverage. He gave me a dirty look and walked away. (Betcha damn skippy that HE didn't get a big tip.)

Apparently in "The North" there is no such thing as "Sweet Tea." It is an aberration of unheard of proportions. Which brings me to the real point of this blog and the reason behind that little back story you just suffered through. Brace yourselves...

The South has been invaded.

Here in Florida, there is an imaginary border somewhere around Tampa where The South becomes The North. Seriously. Be.Afraid.People. No matter what establishment you choose to dine in, you are shit out of luck when it comes to ordering sweet tea. You inevitably are going to get the dumb looks and the packets of sugar if you even try. I was lucky enough to be able to meet one of my Internet friends while on my vacation this year, and went to a restaurant in Sarasota where I sat down and ordered a sweet tea. The waitress promptly told me they don't serve it. Luckily, I was able to order a Coke before she offered me a "pop." (Don't even get me started on THAT subject!)

In honor of this whole South vs. North post today, I wanted to share with y'all this hilarious email that someone sent me sometime in the past that I decided to hold on to in the unforeseeable event that I was ever going to need it so I could pass it on. That time has come. Enjoy.

Ways To Avoid A Good Southern Ass Whuppin'

  1. Don't fake a Southern accent. This will incite a riot, and you will get your ass kicked.
  2. Don't order Fillet Mignon or Pasta Primavera at Waffle House. It's just a diner. They serve breakfast 24 hours a day. Let them cook something they know. If you confuse them, they'll kick your ass.
  3. We are fully aware of how high the humidity is, so shut the hell up. Just spend your money and get the hell out of here, or we'll kick your ass.
  4. Don't order a bottle of pop or a can of soda down here. Down here it's called Coke. Nobody gives a flying rat's ass whether it's Pepsi, RC, Dr. Pepper, 7-Up or's still a Coke. Accept it. Doing otherwise can lead to an ass kicking.
  5. We know our heritage. Most of us are more literate than you (e.g. Welty, Williams, Faulkner). We are also better educated and generally a lot nicer. Don't refer to us as a bunch of hillbillies or we'll kick your ass.
  6. We have plenty of business sense (e.g., Fred Smith of Fed Ex, Sam Walton, Oprah, Turner Broadcasting, MTV, Netscape). Naturally, we do sometimes have small lapses in judgment, if you keep reminding us of the fact we will kick your ass.
  7. Don't laugh at our Civil War monuments. If Lee had listened to Longstreet and flanked Meade at Gettysburg instead of sending Pickett up the middle, you'd be paying taxes to Richmond instead of Washington. If you visit Stone Mountain and complain about the carving, we'll kick your ass.
  8. Don't laugh at our Southern names (Merleen, Luther, TammyLynn, Inez, Billy Joe, Sissy, Clovis, etc.) or we will just HAVE to kick your ass.
  9. Don't order wheat toast at Cracker Barrel. Everyone will instantly know that you're a Yankee. Eat your biscuits like God intended with gravy, and don't put sugar on your grits, or we'll kick your ass.
  10. Don't talk about how much better things are at home because we know better. Many of us have visited Northern hellholes like Detroit, Chicago, and DC, and we have the scars to prove it. If you don't like it here, Delta or US Airways is ready when you are. Move your ass on home before it gets kicked.
  11. Yes, we know how to speak proper English. We talk this way because we don't want to sound like you. We don't care if you don't understand what we are saying. All other Southerners understand what we are saying, and that's all that matters. Now, go away and leave us alone, or we'll kick your ass.
  12. Don't complain that the South is dirty and polluted. None of OUR lakes or rivers have caught fire recently. If you whine about OUR scenic beauty, we'll kick your ass all the way back to Boston Harbor.
  13. Don't ridicule our Southern manners. We say Sir and Ma'am. We hold doors open for others. We offer our seats to old folks because such things are expected of civilized people. Behave yourselves around our sweet little gray-haired grandmothers or they'll kick some manners into your ass just like they did ours.
  14. So you think we're quaint, or losers, because most of us live in the countryside? That's because we have enough sense to not live in filthy, smelly, crime infested cesspools like New York, Baltimore or Boston. Make fun of our fresh air, and we'll kick your ass.
  15. Last, but not least, DO NOT DARE to come down here and tell us how to cook barbecue. This will get your ass shot (right after it is kicked). You're lucky we let you come down here at all. Criticize our barbecue, and you will go home in a pine box...minus your ass.


Lindsay said...

That is one of the most frickin' awesome posts EVER!!! God bless the South!

I don't remember where I found your blog, but I thought it must be cool if they use "persnickety" in the title. I was right. Have a great day with some sweet tea on the side!

The Girl Next Door said...

Awesome. A reformed Yankee who has lived in the south and now lives on the mason/dixon border, I can completely understand. Confession: I have always hated sweet tea. But if it gets me points, I have never ordered a POP and know it's "Coke" down south. ?!

PS welcome back!

tysgirl said...

There are few things more annoying than a Northerner trying to fake a Southern accent.

One Southern thing I don't get is boiled peanuts. That is some nasty shit!

Persnickety Ticker said...

I happen to love boiled peanuts! My Meemaw (yes I am a true southerner, shuddup) used to have to fix 'em in two batches cuz the first batch would be gone practically before they were even finished! Mmmmmm...yummy memories.

At least y'all didn't knock grits...cuz then I'd have to kick your ass. ;)

insanelybusymomma said...

LMAO! Hilarious, just hilarious! Oh and Girlnextdoor...I'm with ya on that sweet tea thing, and like you, learned VERY early that it's "Coke" ;)

tysgirl said...

I tried boiled peanuts for the first time in public at a fresh produce stand. The clerk asked me if I wanted to sample them. Having never tried them before I decided to give it a whirl.

Boiled peanuts are an acquired taste that I will NEVER acquire. I thought I was going to chuck my cookies right there in the produce market.

Feisty Irish Wench said...

What's a grit?
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! It's the stuff they put on sandpaper you Yamn Dankee! I love sweet tea but I disdain what I call "Carolina Sweet Tea". It seems that the husband's family in South Carolina put approximately two cups of sugar in a gallon of tea, when one cup is sufficient. Plus you reduce that whole diabetes thing. It's the tea my husband makes that's sickening. He BOILS the teabags, releasing those lovely bitter tanins. Then he adds the customary two cups of sugar. My kids love extra sugar, but they don't drink Dad's tea. They will however finish my tea before I get a chance to let it cool enough to put in the fridge. Nevermind the fact that I'd like to have a glass or two of it myself before having to make another batch.

The boiled mother loved them and passed that on to us. Likewise my kids like them too. Now I want some boiled peanuts and a big glass of iced sweet tea. You sure know how to strum the heartstrings of this Southern Yankee.

Cara said...

People should read this.