So...driving around today in the middle of the 90-degree-plus heat in the middle of North Carolina ('cause I am currently semi-unemployed) in the BF's borrowed Chevy with the NASCAR stickers on the window, I put the beer (Miller Lite) and the carton of Native-American-Brand-So-You-Don't-Have-To-Pay-Taxes cigs I had just bought for him, in the trunk. (The lottery ticket went in my jeans-skirt back pocket.) I got in and noticed the popsicle stick handmade Jesus cross and the tree air freshener hanging from the rear view, along with the cup of used butts in the cup holder.
When I got home and opened the trunk, the box of cigs had slid up next to the Bible that's always in there, and the beer was all the way back by the old Dale Earnhardt #3 cap.
Sigh.
I guess I can't claim to not be a redneck now, can I?
