North and South - BITCHIN' SISTERS

North and South

25 Aug

One night, in the dead of the worst, apocalyptic, soul crushing Massachusetts winter ever, my husband was all “wanna move to North Carolina?” and I was all “Yeah. totally…” took a sip of my wine and continued to watch Ray Donovan.


North Carolina. Absofuckinglutely. Where's that?

North Carolina? Absofuckinglutely. Where’s that?


Turns out, he was serious. So a month ago, I quit my job, packed up my kids, dog and martini glasses and headed to the dirty south.



Current mood.


And then, I woke up and I lived in the south. Like for real life.

So…I joined a gym in an effort to meet drinking buddies friends. Except everyone here is 25 years old, looks like a Skipper doll, drives a Range Rover and is like absurdly nice. I feel like Fat Amy at barre class.


My form is on fleek though.


Seriously. Picture the all american girl next door, wearing a pearl necklace (like real pearls) and you. In an adult ballet class. Raise your hand if that makes you want to die a little. Nexxt.


You guys seem pretty cool. Maybe we can hang out and flash some gang signs together sometime...

You guys seem pretty cool. Maybe we can hang out and flash some gang signs together sometime…


Side bar: Googling images for “girl next door” and “southern belles in pearl necklaces” will get your ass on a watch list. Like lickety split. Or a Tinder account. NBD.

Let’s just say there are some serious differences between living in the north and living in the south. And before you southern hoes go all like War of Northern Aggression or whatever on me, read on.

1.) It’s Fahrenheit 451 down here. Like Qatar hot. I go outside exclusively to go to Harris Teeter. I should have a fucking camel to get around. My son went out back to play one day and I had to tie a rope around his waist and duct tape a water bottle to his chest. BUT, at least we won’t be buried alive in snow this winter. Again.


Later gram of me headed to the grocery store. #wickedfuckinghot

Latergram of me headed to the grocery store. #wickedfuckinghot


2.) Speaking of Harris Teeter, this store is on point. You can get organic veggies, Nair and wine all in one place. No extra trip to the liquor store necessary. Which is good because you’d burst into flames if you actually had to make two stops.


Talk dirty to me.

Talk dirty to me.


And YOU GUYS, a handsome young manchild escorts you and your wine out to your car. I thought this was a classy southern touch, until I learned that it’s so your dumbass doesn’t get jacked in the parking lot. Neat.


I didn't order a male escort but I'm totally down with this.

I didn’t order a male escort but I’m totally down with this.


3.) When I talk to the locals, they just stare at me, mouth agape, in virtual silence. At first, I would just run away. Now, I’ve gotten to the point where I ask if they are choking, if I need to rephrase my question or if they just simply hate my face.


What words are you actually trying to say?

Um. What words are you actually trying to say?


4.) People here are REALLY nice. Like chat your face off while you’re just trying to pump gas nice. (Not that they will understand a fucking word you say. See #3.) This chat your balls off thing took a little getting used to. The first time it happened, I was all “Da fuck you say to me?!” and the elderly pharmacist was all “Um, have a nice day ma’am?”


What'd you say to me?

Did you say hello to me? Come at me, bro.


5.) Critters. There are wasps the size of fucking helicopters down here. I’m talking Wu-Tang Killa Beez. They like to nest on my front porch. One basically handed me my mail the other day. Which was very helpful because of the heat. See #1.


"Hey, welcome home. Looks like your Verizon bill is due..."

Hey, welcome home. Looks like your Verizon bill is due…


Some loose translation of common southern vernacular:

“Bless your heart” is like a real thing. It means “you’re a fucking moron.”

When someone responds “You’re alright” when you say “excuse me” it means “get out the way, you fucking moron.”

“Y’all” means a.) you all b.) all of you or c.) YOU GUYS

I, personally, like to combine all three into “Bless your heart, you’re alright, y’all.”


6.) Things down here are just a little slower. Like move in reverse slow. This could be a good thing if you’re accustomed to being a psycho from the north. There is no timeline. This isn’t a race. So pump the brakes, yankee and have some sweet tea (scotch).


Southern me.


Guys/Y’all, holy shit, this has been an adjustment. But life is about adventure. Right?

Well, bless your heart. You’re alright. Glug glug glug.


Right. Like I could ever forget the Dukes of Hazzard. They practically raised me.

Right. Like I could ever forget the Dukes of Hazzard. They practically raised me.

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9 Responses to “North and South”

  1. Heather Bittar August 25, 2015 at 7:09 pm #

    Oh my gosh that was hilarious and I think I just relived my move from MN to Scottsdale this past month- Nailed It!

  2. Susan Tague August 25, 2015 at 10:33 pm #

    Been here 20 years, from Massachusetts, and you have brought me back. Thanks! Friends with Charlene who pointed me to your blog.

  3. Kelly August 26, 2015 at 2:25 am #

    I love you! Thanks for ending my night in laughter. XOXO

  4. Karyn aka best friend August 26, 2015 at 2:35 am #

    You’re the funniest human being I know. I love you

  5. Marcia August 27, 2015 at 3:39 pm #

    Recently moved NY –> VA. You NAILED IT! I’m writing a book to teach my southern friends how to recognize (and not hate me for) sarcasm. Meanwhile, if you can teach me how to know whether these blondies-in-pearls likes me or hates me, I’d be forever grateful! (This us for my future knowledge, because I’m pretty sure I know they hate me.)

    • Anonymous September 4, 2015 at 2:02 pm #

      PA->NC 7 years ago. They are not all as nice & innocent as they would like you to believe. I just recently heard one of them try to call one a bitch as we do in a term of endearment. It was so wrong. I just smile and throw out a couple of F bombs. That keeps them busy for the day talking about my potty mouth. My hubby is from NY he just says, Get the Fuck outta here. LOL gotta love the South. When I get really pissed at them I just come home and play The trailer song by Casey Musgrave.

  6. Trich August 28, 2015 at 1:29 pm #

    MA -> VA, eight years ago. This made my morning!! Spot. On. Especially #3. There were children in my son’s class that refused play dates and uttered these words: We don’t know what your mama is saying. Five year olds were afraid to be left alone with me for two hours. And our neighbors were convinced my three year old daughter was British – Mummy, do you know where Brothah is??
    But hey, sure beats 36 feet of snow!!

  7. Nat October 9, 2015 at 4:52 pm #

    We have fucking lice and I was in the middle of reading your post to get tips. Holy shit please tell me you moved to Charlotte!!!! I’m knee deep in a do-rag, tea tree oil and my 2nd bottle of wine waiting for nitnabbers to come save me. This post was my life (moved from the south end of Boston) 10 years ago. I’m assimilating err umm acclimating finally.

  8. Rae February 26, 2016 at 4:17 pm #

    OH>Raleigh 5 years ago. You nailed this shit. Bye.

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