This guest blog is from Jon. He’s a fellow Kentuckian.
My family is fairly normal, at least the part that came north from Kentucky. The Kentucky half though can look and act like they just appeared on the trailer park edition of "Cops". From meth labs to moonshine we got a piece of all that hillbilly lowlife action. Trailers, mullets, and corn squeezings, oh my. My mom was the youngest of nine, she was the only one not to marry a cousin. No first cousins mind you, but some seconds. I have seen an uncle catch a snake and hold it with his boot while teasing it to try and bite his hand, just for entertainment at the family reunion, which always starts with an area wide visit to the graveyard. Honestly though, we aren't that unusual. My dad's side is the strange one. Lots of serial killer candidates. Strange quiet types who seem to be nice right up until they snap. The lasting memory of them is my ex-wife meeting them at a Christmas event for the first time and getting toilet paper in the gift exchange. It wasn't intended as a joke, I had a cousin who thought it a good and practical gift.
Gotta love a man from Kentucky—the heart of…some place.
And toilet paper, huh?
I would reply to this one, but it seems that our very own Harlequin from Cheshire UK has done it already: “soft toilet paper [is the best]... not that stuff like baking parchment that has a high gloss one side, a fine abrasive texture on the other and edges that you could slice parma ham with... you don't know pain until you've had a paper cut where the sun don't shine....”
Ha! ‘Nough said.
My family is fairly normal, at least the part that came north from Kentucky. The Kentucky half though can look and act like they just appeared on the trailer park edition of "Cops". From meth labs to moonshine we got a piece of all that hillbilly lowlife action. Trailers, mullets, and corn squeezings, oh my. My mom was the youngest of nine, she was the only one not to marry a cousin. No first cousins mind you, but some seconds. I have seen an uncle catch a snake and hold it with his boot while teasing it to try and bite his hand, just for entertainment at the family reunion, which always starts with an area wide visit to the graveyard. Honestly though, we aren't that unusual. My dad's side is the strange one. Lots of serial killer candidates. Strange quiet types who seem to be nice right up until they snap. The lasting memory of them is my ex-wife meeting them at a Christmas event for the first time and getting toilet paper in the gift exchange. It wasn't intended as a joke, I had a cousin who thought it a good and practical gift.
Gotta love a man from Kentucky—the heart of…some place.
And toilet paper, huh?
I would reply to this one, but it seems that our very own Harlequin from Cheshire UK has done it already: “soft toilet paper [is the best]... not that stuff like baking parchment that has a high gloss one side, a fine abrasive texture on the other and edges that you could slice parma ham with... you don't know pain until you've had a paper cut where the sun don't shine....”
Ha! ‘Nough said.
***
As always, if you have a "How Screwed Up Is Your Family" story, feel free to sent it to me. I will credit you, or if you're wiser than me, you can go anonymous.
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