Yee-Haw!

(Editors note:  I've been away from blogging because I've had a rough go of it the last few weeks.  My dear Godmother died and the estate lawsuit continues, not to mention the problem of my ongoing unemployment ...it's been a little bleak.  And who wants to read 15 straight whiny, self-indulgent posts?  So, I thought it best to stay away from the computer in a non-looking-for-jobs-or-masturbating manner.  But it's a sunny day, the Miami Heat are falling apart and I scored last night.  Things are looking up)

I've always considered myself to be white trash in two ways:  I loved my pick-up truck and I love chili.  Sadly, I no longer own my beloved pick-up but my chili-gasm continues.  I've been looking to fill the gaping white-trash chasm in my life since donating my truck to kids with cancer--apparently, I hate kids with cancer, considering how much trouble that truck gave me those last few years--and I hadn't quite found the perfect solution to that problem.

Never fear: the search is over.

I have an honest-to-goodness red-neck (not white trash, mind you) brother-in-law.  His name is Jamie and he's fantastic.  Remember him?

This guy

One of the absolute highlights of my life occurred down in Georgia at his wedding to my sister, Peggy.  My graceful Mother--may she rest in peace and ignore the story I'm about to tell--was having a celebratory glass or twelve of champagne at the reception.  One of Jamie's relatives ambled up with some genuine, home-distilled moonshine in a mason jar and offered her a swig.  Mom--perhaps due to the sheer amount of Veuve Cliquot served at the party--took not just one sip, but two.  Somewhere, there is an amazing picture of this event, for which I would gladly pay good money.  If I had any money to pay, of course. 

We all laughed and passed that mason jar around, taking hits off of what must have been a pretty germ-riddled jar by that point.  But what the hell.  It was a wedding, after all.

Anyhoo, a few weeks ago, Jamie returned from a visit down home with a little gift for me.  Knowing my penchant for cheap wine, he brought me back the most thoughtful gift one drunk can buy another:  just your standard issue red-neck wine glass:

Woooooooooooo!

How awesome is that?  A stemmed moonshine jar!  Wait, it gets better.  The glass even comes with a mason jar screw top so you can, I dunno, run shirtless from the cops without spilling your wine:

I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes; that is a rubber band holding on the label.

There is nothing--nothing--about this gift that I do not love.  It is hilarious, practical and super-tough.  Trust me when I say this thing ain't shattering when it's inevitably dropped in the bed of my future pick-up truck. 

So Jamie, thank you.  You've brightened my day at a time when it could use a little brightening.  Now that I'm in a good mood again, I'm off to fill this little fucker with 12 ounces of a proper depressant.