Grits and Yuppies

I love Grits, especially with spicy sausages, a little cheese and butter on it for breakfast. A lot of people did not grow up eating Grits and since the word doesn't sound very pretty, (grittiness?) and it is associated heavily with black people, it has become some kind of strange substance in the Non Grit Eating world.

Ok-- whatever it's their loss.

However I have a problem with Yuppies or other Non grit Eaters asking what is a Grit or what are Grits and scrunching up their faces as that ask-- as if to say I am asking but I don't really want to know because I have already formed a negative opinion about it.

I don't feel like explaining what a Grit is. You(Non Grit Eater) have spent most of your life not knowing what a Grit is maybe it is not for you to know.

Anyway, one day I was at the supermarket and these two Yuppie women got behind me in line. I had Grits and hair grease on the conveyor belt and I knew we were going to have some kind of interaction. My back was hurting, I was tired and not in the mood.

They were yapping away about their Yuppie interests, home remodeling projects, that new Albanian-Mongolian restaurant etc.....then there was a lull in the conversation.

I knew it--- here it comes.

Counting T minus 10..9..8..7..6..here it comes 5..4..3..2..1 we have lift off.

WHAT ARE GRITS?

First of all I don't know what Grits are and even if I did I would not take the time to explain it. I know I have that kind of Aunt Jemima look, overweight, middle aged and black, and I look like I should be singing in a choir and saying something like "Bless yo heart chil' you want to know what grits are, let's see sweety....."

That is not me. I may look Aunt Jemima-ish but if I met Aunt Jemima I would probably kick her ass or at least say "thanks" with a huge helping of sarcasm.

My acutal response to the question was "I don't know, I am buying this box for a friend."

They didn't like that--how dare I look like Aunt Jemima and have that attitude.

So they started talking amongst themselves, probably to save face " do you know what Grits are? No I don't have a clue", etc etc etc.

I just ignored them.














Then I felt bad, not for the rebuff but for the fact I didn't say what I really wanted to say. Next time I will respond with exactly what is on my mind.



Beware Yuppies and Non Grit Eaters, if you happen to be standing in line behind an overweight, middle aged black woman who is buying Grits, don't ask her what are Grits. Because if it is me this is the response you will get.


I don't know what Grits are and I don't know what a Grit is. I do know that they are delicious especially with saugage early in the morning. Here is an idea why don't you buy a box and make some. The directions are on the box. Put a little cheese and butter on it and eat it instead of hash browns or a bagel. You may find them delicious and I promise you will not turn black, you will not become a crack whore, your hair will not kink up and you will not have an irresistible urge to move to the hood and fool around with black men. However I cannot predict what your friends would say when they found out you were eating (gulp!) Grits.

There is nothing wrong with curiosity, but it is the phraseology and the face scrunching that I find extremely irritating.



Why not ask that question like this:

"you know I see that box of Grits all the time next to the Cream of Wheat-- it looks good, what does it taste like and what do you eat it with? I think I might like to try it one day."

If someone asked me like that, then I would be nice and maybe explain what I think Grits are because I really don't know, my mother used to make them when I was a child so I just ate and enjoyed.

However I do also recall my mother serving me Brains when I was a child and eating those with Grits. I thought they were some kind of egg dish spelled Branes, until I realized later in life they were really Brains, spelled Brains--- Brains from some animal--- I was really disgusted when I found that out.

So it is ok to scrunch up you face and ask me about Brains.

Broke Down Oprah is back

Hello (My One Reader)

I have been gone for a long time because I have been diagnosed with a serious illness and haven't felt like making fun of people.

But now I am back with a new blog, Renal Roulette, and a lot to say.

I guess I will start with the usual suspect, His Royal High Mightiness, the Honorable and Fabulous and Uber-intelligent George Wha?? Bush.

Why don't we just make him king of America, in fact I would be willing to make him king of America if he would stop talking. Every time he opens his mouth that little voice in my head starts screaming.....

"For the love of God please please I beg of you please make it stop"



Then I thought to myself--why is his voice so irritating to me? It took me a while to figure it out but I have presented my reasoning below.

Imagine you are a child-- a teenager who is really smart and into computers and pretty savvy as teenagers go.

You have a father who likes to ride around on his motorcycle and thinks he is hot. That's pretty bad but you say "whatever--that's his problem I have my own problems to deal with."

Then your father has an accident and damages his brain severely, because he is way too cool to wear a faggoty helmet. He eventually makes it after a long recovery.

He has recovered physically but there is something not quite right with him. Whenever he talks to you he scrunches up his face and talks to you as if you were a slow witted child from another country (Albania?), so he has to use small words, talk very slowly and try very hard to make himself understood. He doesn't realize that it is he who has the brain damage and you understand the simple minded things he is trying to explain perfectly. So you have to sit there night after night going through this routine listening to someone who was not too bright in the first place, who now has brain damage trying to explain simple things to you with that exasperated scrunched up face and idiotic explanations. That has got to be hard.

That's why I cannot listen to him. Now that the prophets of Doom has shortened my lifespan I really find it hard to listen to him. Suppose I am listening to him give his usual Bin Laden, 9/11, terrrrist speech and I drop dead. That would have been the last thing I would have experienced as a living human being on the planet earth. I cannot take that chance. I am not unpatriotic or a Bush hater ( well, actually I am) but I am trying to cherish and protect what could be my last moments on earth.