Hotter than a Whore in Church
My mother's side of the family is from the deep, deep South. We're talkin' Gulf Coast, kids. I hated going there for Christmas and summer vacations, because, well, the Southern stereotype of racist white trash was painfully applicable to my relatives. However, the one saving grace was the peculiar phrasing which, when I was young, confused the hell out of me. Now, however, I twirl these treasures over my tongue often and savor their goodness.
1) I'm hotter than a whore in church on Christmas.
2) I couldn't carry a tune in a lard bucket.
3) It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra.
4) It's slicker than pig's shit after a rainstorm.
5) I'm as fine as a frog hair split four ways.
Really, it's white trash poetry. And it is my heritage.
1) I'm hotter than a whore in church on Christmas.
2) I couldn't carry a tune in a lard bucket.
3) It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra.
4) It's slicker than pig's shit after a rainstorm.
5) I'm as fine as a frog hair split four ways.
Really, it's white trash poetry. And it is my heritage.
Labels: Funny
posted by slickaphonic at 6:56 PM
6 Comments:
dang! in Okrahoma we only split our frog's hairs three ways! Coz that just makes them cuter than a speckled pup.
Well, that's cause you're not as fine in Okrahoma as we are in
Miss-s-ippi.
Ah, cuter than a speckled pup...I love that one better than cat loves milk.
How about, he's so stupid he couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the sole.
Or something like that. I'm not from there.
Huh, not sure about that one, Step. But my favorite line from Dukes of Hazzard was, "He couldn't hit the side of a barn with a machine gun."
And whenever someone wants to throw me something, I try to dissuade them because, "I couldn't catch a blanket."
I've always been a fan of "he's dumber than a bag of hammers and not nearly as useful" "well, that's like puttin' lipstick on a pig" and the old classic "that man's slower than mo-lassus in january."
of course, there is always my granny's: "bethie, your precious soy grows in chicken shit."
wow, bethie, i'd never before seen that last one. that makes me smile...but now that i'm thinking of phrases, why is that we call smirks "shit-eatin' grins"? I don't know that I would have any smile on my face if I'd actually just eaten shit. Eww.
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