White Trash Missed Connection

A little over a year ago my friend MJ introduced me to the world of blogs. She asked me to do a guest post on her site… and it was from that first post that the idea for this sight was originally born… Enjoy!

Dear Budweiser Girl,

Your “white trashiness” has entranced me, and I desperately need to see you again. I have become obsessed with my fantasy of you, and seek resolution… If this post finds it’s way to you, and we are again to meet, this is how I imagine our date would go…

We agree to meet up at the 7-11 to drink 40 ouncers of Bud, and play as many games of Pinball that the change between the cushions of my couch will buy… (Does Budweiser even make 40 oz bottles? Between you and me I’m more of an O.E., or St. Ides kinda girl.) After a couple hours we get bored of playing, but now we realize that we are a little too tipsy to drive.

We stumble back to the counter and make a half assed attempt to flirt with the “shift manager” Larry. Well poor Larry gets so excited that two super hot chicks are talking to him, that he decides to hook us up with some nachos (Okay so the cheese is 2 days old, that’s still fresh by 7-11 standards) and ‘cause he’s in a good mood, he throws in a hotdog to boot. (We choose not to ask how old the hotdog is, ‘cause do we really want to know?)

Dinner in hand, we proceed to the cement tables outside, and laugh about what a schmuck Larry is, and even though we both have a good laugh about it, deep down, the truth is we kinda like him. I tell you I think you’re cool, you tell me you’re late for the Monster Truck Rally, and throw away what is left of the hotdog. You stand up, fish the keys out of your pocket, but first you have to go home and feed your 6 kids you say.

I watch in total admiration as you reach into the front of your pants, and retrieve the Jiffy Pop that you stole, and take note of the skill with witch you place it on the radiator of your truck. You say that you hope that it finishes popping by the time you get home… you like the kids to have at least one warm meal a week. I nod, and give a crazy sideways smile… I admire that you still have custody of all your kids, you must be a good mom.

Then before I can say anything, you jump into your truck and speed off. My last image of you is the fake bullet hole riddled bumper sticker that says… “I still miss my ex, but my aim is improving”…. and then you’re gone…. Sigh, I wonder what will ever become of us….

Call me.