Do you ever find yourself amused (and amazed) by peoples' white trash antics?
Sure you do.
Southern Fried White Trash takes a humorous look at the unbelievable mindset of the national subculture (and Southern specialty) we affectionately refer to as "white trash."

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

You can’t pick your family

It's true. You can choose your friends, your spouse, your employer, but you can't pick your family. Therein lies the source of limitless humor. If it's true that as family members we all share certain traits, then why on earth are we all so astoundingly different?

Take my family, for instance. Please. Hahaha sorry, bad joke. I love my family, but I have a brother who's so freakishly successful, so smart in the ways of making money, that he and I are, like, from different planets. I have a sister who truly is from a different planet, one on which she is the only inhabitant and only her rules of "reality" apply. She is the reason psychotropic drugs were invented. I love her, but I don't get her on any level, any topic, ever. I have decided it's best just to pretend she does not exist rather than run the risk of having to deal with her. Sad but true.

Now I have a half-sister (go figure) with whom I have the most in common. She is 19 years older than I and a clean-and-orderly freak. That we do not have in common.

At any rate, the quirky day-to-day humor of FAMILY I find hilarious, and that's why the topic of my second book is just that – family. We siblings have been thrown into the quandary of caring for our elderly father. He's 90 years old and shows no signs of winding down any time soon. Don't get me wrong; I hope he has many more years, as long as he feels good and is enjoying them. But his care is our responsibility – Mr. Successful, Ms. "No Reality For Me Today, Thanks," and me.


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