Get R Done

My friend Michelle and I have this running game about which brother is most redneck. Yes, it’s cruel. But my brother knows that I love him even if I rage about his hunting deer and tipping cows. That established, the game sort of sounds like this (And I wish I was kidding about the following dialogue):

WR: My brother has a tattoo of a scarab around his belly button.

M: My brother has a tattoo of a confederate flag on his arm.

WR: My brother gave his wife a tattoo of a topless mermaid on her arm for Christmas.

M: My brother gave his wife new teeth for Christmas.

I can’t win, people. But I got a call from said brother last night. His wife is divorcing him after eight months of marriage. This may put him in the same redneck ranks of speedy marriages, such as Britney Spears and Lisa Presley. But I’m not certain if this qualifies, gaining from my brother’s misery and all. As sad as he is, he will benefit, being able to move out of his double-wide and back with our parents for the time being. Moving on up, EW. Moving on up.

That said, I just e-mailed my parents an article informing them that an emu is on the loose in our county. And, according to the owner, it’s fair game because the neighbors have “expressed concern for smaller animals.” The loss of the emu, however, will not be “in vain as ‘Emu meat is not only nutritious, but very delicious if cooked properly’.” Source

Side note: I used to work for a local paper and miss the highlights of my day, which include overhearing the local sheriff track my friends over the newsroom CB radio. Not to mention perks, such as covering stock car and speed boat racing. Those were the days.