Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am Southern. There are just things you’re taught when you’re southern that others aren’t.
When I find myself in communication with an exceptionally rude human being, it takes everything I have in me not to sass them to high heaven. (I am a fire sign, so I get a little heated sometimes.) I want to tell them their face is ugly and I don’t want to be their friend, but that’s not very southern of me.
Because the truth is, when you’re southern, you’re taught to be respectful, polite and charming all the time. Even if you seriously want to poke someone in the eyeball, you can’t because then your mom will kick your ass when you get home. Clearly not in front of anyone, because that also, is not being very southern.
And when I have these interactions with exceptionally rude human beings, here is the natural progression of how my mind works versus what I do.
Rude Human does something really rude or says something passive aggressive to my face.
My brain says: “I will seriously kick you in the shin if you try to make me feel small with your words.”
My mouth says: nothing.
Rude Human walks away feeling victorious by their passive aggressive interchange.
My brain escalates to: “WHAT A COW! I seriously want to march over there and give her a piece of my very non passive mind. I hope she chokes on a twizzler.”
My mouth says to my husband (the only person besides your best girl friend you can complain to): “You are never going to believe what that COW just said to me!” I recount the story with a justified air.
When his response is less than horrified, I take the story to my best girlfriend, who then responds appropriately by saying, “What an absolute cow. You are so right, she was raised in a barn.”
Then my brain goes to a place of extreme justice: “I am so above this. I won’t even dignify her with a response. She is just jealous of me.”
So my mouth says nothing. Then 30 minutes later the southern gilt creeps in because I called someone a cow (if not to their face, in my mind) and assumed they would be jealous of me. I start thinking about the fact that she probably doesn’t have many friends because people misunderstand her, and that I should give her the benefit of the doubt.
I feel peace, knowing that I am behaving how my mother would want me to behave, until the next day when the same rude human proves to be just as rude as she was the day before.
Then my brain escalates back to: “She really is an effing cow! HOW RUDE.” It’s a vicious cycle, but the moral is that us Southern girls are never, I repeat ever, rude to your face, no matter how rude you are to us.
BECAUSE OUR MOMS RAISED US RIGHT. (you cow.)
In other news, it might be time for my period, judging on my above story on how I deal with passive aggressiveness. I think I’ll eat some donuts now.
(yes, yes those are poprocks on a donut. you’re welcome.)
Want Chocolate Glazed or Regular? Ok fine I got you.
- yeast - 1 packet
- water - 1/4 cup, warm
- whole milk - 1 cup
- flour - 3 1/2 cup
- sugar - 1/3 cup
- egg - 1
- salt - 1 teaspoon
- shortening - 1/4 cup
- canola oil - 1 large bottle
- chocolate, semisweet - 6 ounces, for chocolate glaze
- heavy cream - 1/2 cup, for chocolate glaze
- corn syrup - 1 tablespoon, for chocolate glaze
- powdered sugar - 2 cups
- milk - 1/3 cup
- butter - 1 stick
- vanilla - 1 teaspoon