Jason called me a “yokel gay!”
I was looking at a picture of a friend of ours (Heather) and she has this great photo on her myspace and I said, “wow... Heather is so beautiful! Look at this picture!” And then the thought gurgled up in my head and I thought she reminded me of Mary Ingalls from “Little House on The Prairie.” “She reminds me of Mary Ingalls...” I said. Jason snorted pouring his morning coffee. “What?!” he said as if I had made some seriously revolting comment. “She's Melissa Sue Anderson beautiful...” Jason: “Don't EVER tell her that!” Me: “Why? Melissa Sue Anderson is BEAUTIFUL!” I warbled stretching out the word musically to make my point. And then Jason, laughing said, “you are such a yokel gay.”
And he leaves the room.
A yokel gay.
He not only tells me now that I am a yokel gay but makes me feel like I am a cast member of “The Beverly Hillbillies.” We were out for brunch a few sundays ago and it was a very nice chic little upscale white table cloth kind of place. We happened upon it randomly. We were intending to go to the “Golden Apple” restaurant which is a greasy delicious hole in the wall kind of place and across the street this yuppy gay glass clink clink place siren songed us to cross the street and walk in and ask for a table for two. (Wow... how about that sentence?!)
It was very nice and perfectly fancy sunday brunchie. I was happy and I was perhaps a bit verbose in my delight. Jason told me that he couldn't take me anywhere and actually made fun of the things I said and added a hick accent to make some kind of point.
I am not a hick.
I can BE a hick. I can pretend I am a country boy but I am a city mouse. I live in the glam city and... well... a metrosexual... I am not. I don't really dress the part. I wear jeans all the time and I like sweatshirts... Yes, I do get overly excited and loud. I might say the word “WOW!!!!” a little too much. But I don't say, “well, GOahhhhhhLLY! Wouldja look at that there silverware... I kin see muh-self in them dishes... shoot! These viddles are DEEEEEElicious!” I don't say those things. But Jason makes me feel like I do.
A yokel gay.
Well, perhaps I should just lay it on thick. Black out a tooth and not let him know until we are at the brunch table. Then I can ask the waiter, “Y'all got Possum on the men-yuh?”
Melissa Sue Anderson IS pretty. And so is Heather. I mean, you would have to be BLIND not to agree! ... oh yeah, oops! Sorry Mary.