A worthwhile trip

I let myself be a bum this morning,
because I'm celebrating the fact that I AM DONE WITH HIGH SCHOOL FOREVER!! 
I think that's good reason to be a sloth.

After sleeping in until the luxurious hour of 9:40,
I made coffee
(a relationship/addiction that I might just have to break again...See this post or this post or even this post to see what a struggle I've had with that magic bean) and I did other fun/chillaxing stuff.

Enough about that.
Back to what I promised in the past post about local commercials.

So, this weekend I went to a pickle festival, which doesn't sound very appealing, I know. To me, it sounded like it would be an entertaining event.
While I wouldn't normally make a long trip for something so trivial as pickles, my parents were riding in the 'Tour de Pickle', and I wanted to show some support.
Plus, I like road trips.

It was a fun and a unique experience.
If you know me, you might know that I love to observe other cultures. Eastern NC is no exception.

While my parents were riding their bikes, I, armed with my nikon, strolled the festival grounds.
My professional-looking nikon automatically made people assume that I was a serious photographer.
I got the question "Are you a photographer?" many times.
How does one properly answer a question like that?
On one hand, I have a camera and I'm taking pictures. What else would I be other than a photographer?

But, I knew what they meant. Basically, "Hey lady with the camera, am I gonna be on the front page of the paper?"
To me a photographer is someone who takes photographs. Therefore, I am a photographer. Just not the famous/paid kind.

After my parents had finished their bike ride, we swung by McDonald's to get our unsweet tea fix. [sweet tea is just gross syrup. Seriously, ew. ...I'm like an counter-southerner who so happens to be a fifth-generation (at least) southerner]
While we were at the Mcdonald's, I looked around the shopping center.

There was a Yummy Orient:

There was a Super Mercado:

There was a coin laundry and a chinese take-out.

Then, I saw it.

Bobby Denning's.

The one from this clip.




Being the nerd that I am, I HAD to go take a picture in front of the building.

Then we decided to go inside, and check it out. How could we resist? I mean, they had SCOOTERS.

So, we walked in, and perused the inventory.
There were some nice things, but in the bargain center, there were some very unique things.
(In a good way unique.)
Like a room divider with colonial people painted on it, a tv from the 70's, and...

these plates that I bought. They were so groovy, I couldn't resist. I mean, they're made out of glass and leather. ...I'll find a good use for them.

Okay, so when I went to purchase the plates, I told the nice lady at the register that I had seen their youtube video, and I was a fan.

She told me that I could meet the Bobby Denning and Mrs. Denning if I liked. Of course I said yes.

They were really nice people, and after talking for a bit, we took a picture together.

This is the amazing part: Mr. Denning has muscular dystrophy.
He's been in a wheelchair since he was 12, and yet he is running his multifarious business. He can't move his arms or legs, but he's still trucking along.
Talk about inspiring!!

His wife was terribly sweet, and as I was leaving, she said that my visit had made her day. That visit made my day, too.

Before I left, they gave me a ball cap and a yardstick advertising Bobby Denning's. I was a very happy camper.

So, if you need a scooter, or a couch, or pretty much anything, and you happen to be in Mt. Olive, do go to Bobby Denning's.

Also, I saw this in a field, and I'm considering calling them up. I've always wanted to be on the radio...hehe

"WJDS RADIO
1430 AM SINCE 1960
START YOUR PROGRAM
LOW TIME PRICES
CALL ..."

Might as well SING

Singing makes everything fun.
Until you get on someone's nerves. Luckily for me, that did not happen today (the getting on the nerves part)
I did get to sing. I belted out notes. FUN.

Strumming the guitar + singing = super fun.

I aim to be the next Dolly Parton.  I think "country" could be my niche.
{If you've heard me sing, you know this is all conjecture. Please let me have my delusions...}

I am SO good with the country persona. I just love poofy hair, and I've grown up with the music. I've got the singing patterns down, darlin.
I even
(wait for it)
have a cowgirl hat.

Though I try to deny it sometimes, I'm truly a southern girl.

If you know me, it's pretty blatant. *wink*

I favor charm and hospitality. Always be polite. If my momma has taught me anything, it's civility towards others EVEN if they so happen to cut me in line. {I smile and politely tell them off.}

After visiting other areas of the country, I've realized how kind southerners are in comparison to the rest of the nation. There is some sort of unsaid code of the South that everyone {for the most part} understands.
I think in the old days it was called "manners", "courtesy" or "civility". Somehow it's been lost.
I don't know what's happened, but I do know (and this is a trick of the trade) that you'll always catch more flies with honey.

[not that I want to attract flies per se. It's a metaphor...but you aren't a literalist like me, so you don't need that explained...]


I'm no redneck, but living in the south sure has shaped me.

A few of my good friends growing up were YANKEES, so that helped to nullify some of the southernness and made me a more "well-rounded" individual. I also picked up on their funny accent.

Know what? [Prepare for another factoid about me]

I used to DETEST the southern accent.

Such an odd thing. It's like I'm denying my heritage. For shame, I could blend right in if need be. I prefer not to use that special skill.

Hey, there's an idea for a dire circumstance.
If ever I'm running from the law, I'll find me a nice place out in the country {with a couple coon dogs thrown in}. I could work at wall-mark. I'd hand out stickers. {Not that there's anything wrong with that}
I know the culture, like it or not.

Even BETTER, I could be a translator for the southern-speakers. The everyday people of the south can talk to the everyday people of everywhere else.

 I found my job niche. I didn't even have to go to college!


I was talking with an older couple (obviously southern) in a rural Bojangles (best. southern fast food. ever.) and they asked if I was from up North. The older gentleman said that I talked fancy.
Me?!? Talk funny?!? Never.

AND THEN, someone else (at a different place and time) said that my southern accent must be fake, because it "didn't fit with my personality" or something like that.
LIBEL. He didn't know any better, bless his heart.

Ladies and Gentleman, my accent is FOR REAL. It comes naturally.
You'd better believe it. After spending a week in a more rural southern area, my accent comes out strong.

I have been speaking with more southern intonations lately. It's becoming a habit.
I think it's fun. I can randomly say phrases like, "bless your heart" or "now listen" into my everyday speaking.

Sometimes I throw in some British. Not in with the Southern though. Ewww.

(The British Accent Collection is a work in progress. I was happy to get some feedback from real live people actually from the UK. It was exciting.)

Naturally, I speak with pretty much a broad "accentless" accent. The one that comes with living in an urban area...

One of my life goals is becoming a master of seeming indigenous.
Not to become a wall-flower or to be weird, but just to be fun.
It's like a personal sociology project or something...

I love studying people and their mannerisms to create characters for sketches or entertainment.

That's not weird is it?