What "we" don't know about you.

Food wise, growing up was interesting to say the least.

Mom's immediate family began in upsate NY (Scottish/German descent) and migrated to J'ville, FL via Wilkes-Barre and Baltimore.
Daddy's immediate family began in N. GA and NC (German/Scottish/Irish descent) mountains and migrated to J'ville via AL and W. MS.

My elder sibs bore the brunt of N vs. S foodwise. Mom's mom was never much of a cook, so Mom really never learned much. Daddy's mom was pure south and cooked everything (I mean everything) in bacon fat. My poor Mama tried to please Daddy and combine the two. Some was okay and some was purely awful.

I learned to cook as a young teen by reading, studying and watching Julia Child and Graham Kerr on PBS just to survive.
 
Miss Lily said:
Food wise, growing up was interesting to say the least.

Mom's immediate family began in upsate NY (Scottish/German descent) and migrated to J'ville, FL via Wilkes-Barre and Baltimore.
Daddy's immediate family began in N. GA and NC (German/Scottish/Irish descent) mountains and migrated to J'ville via AL and W. MS.

My elder sibs bore the brunt of N vs. S foodwise. Mom's mom was never much of a cook, so Mom really never learned much. Daddy's mom was pure south and cooked everything (I mean everything) in bacon fat. My poor Mama tried to please Daddy and combine the two. Some was okay and some was purely awful.

I learned to cook as a young teen by reading, studying and watching Julia Child and Graham Kerr on PBS just to survive.
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Good on you for learning early. My wife couldn't cook worth a darn for the first 20 years of our marriage. After we moved away from easily obtained family (her side) meals she decided she wanted food she couldn't have unless she made it herself. Now she's a fantastic cook. All that was missing was motivation.
 
RR said:
On the other hand. First wife: Teresa. Second wife: Tracey. RR: didn't think that through.....
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Current wife is named Joanne. Ex wife is named Joan. Yep, I've messed up a couple of times.
 
Alabamacoastie said:
I'm straight, but I've got a funny gay guy story...

When I was in the military, before I met my wife, I was on an 8 man team that traveled all over the world doing "cool guy" stuff... We were all best friends and we partied together, everywhere we went. We hooked up with girls all over Central and South America, Europe, wherever our deployments took us... If we weren't in uniform, we were in a bar or a dance club, 7 days a week...

Anyway, one day in 2007, we found ourselves on a civilian flight from Los Angeles to Frankfurt, Germany. We were on our way to a three month long deployment in Iraq... We landed in Frankfurt on Sunday afternoon and checked into a hotel. We dropped off our duffel bags and walked outside looking for the bars... We knew we only had one night in Frankfurt and we had to wake up the next morning at 6am to get to the airport and catch our next flight to Kuwait City, I think...

Anyway, it's Sunday afternoon. The bars are open, but EMPTY! The 8 of us are the only ones inside everywhere we go... But, we keep drinking and hopping from bar to bar.

Finally, at about 9pm, we are all half drunk, at a dance club that's playing techno and a few girls trickle in... Like 2 girls... Slim pickens... But, they are girls, right? Haha. That's all that mattered to us...

I walk out to the dance floor and try to dance with them. We are kind of in a group, me and the two girls, smiling at each other, dancing awkwardly, you know...

Anyway, I'm dancing, and I feel someone come right up behind me and start dancing on me. I'm assuming it's another girl. They start whispering in my ear, in German... AND, IT'S A DUDE.... But, I didn't care. I wasnt upset in the least... I just kept dancing with him. I was like F it, at least I danced with someone in Germany. Hahaha

When the song ended, I walked away from the dude and went to get another beer at the bar. My 7 best friends are standing there drinking, looking at me kind of weird, but not giving me a hard time. No big deal...

Then, one of the guys, his call sign was Smokey, gets really angry... Like drunk angry... And goes, "Dirty (that was my call sign), WTF... Do you know that you were dancing with a guy?"

I said, "Yeah, he was cool. Nice guy. He even said 'thank you' in English when the song was over. And besides, if the girls see me goofing off maybe they'll come over and talk to us. You guys should go dance too!"

Smokey got so mad... Irrationally mad... I heard him talking to the other guys, yelling over the techno music, complaining that I danced with a guy...

I chugged my beer, looked at Smokey, and I walked right back down to the dance floor, and I started dancing with the same German dude, again! That guy was so happy. Hahaha.

Anyway, when that song ended we all left and went to another bar and then another and then another. We partied all night until the sun came up. We staggered back to the hotel and got our duffel bags, and we got in a taxi to the airport.

In the taxi van, drunk Smokey was still complaining that I had danced with a dude, not once but twice... Everybody laughed at him and told him to shut up. We all thought it was funny that it bothered him so much. None of the rest of us cared...

I'm still friends with Smokey. He's a sheriff's deputy in Montana. I talk to him on the phone about twice a year, just to catch up and talk about our kids, etc... And, to this day, it never fails... Every single call he'll say, "WTF Dirty? You remember that time you danced with a guy in Germany?"

Hahaha!
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Not sure if this falls into the gay column, but I kissed a dude once.

Wait! Let me explain! Jesus...

My girlfriend and I were partying with some of her friends at an apartment in Charlotte. I think it may have been 1990. There was beer, liquor, weed... probably some cocaine in some back corners, but I stuck to the alcohol. Oh, this particular girlfriend was 50% firecracker, 50% psycho, and 50% lying, drug-addicted whore. But she was fun.

So, there's this one dude that kept going on and on about just getting back from basic training. Basic training this, basic training that. He could do this and that and he had so much discipline and skill and basic training.

Basic training...

Girlfriend and I ended up at the pool. We're standing around talking. Talking usually leads to arguing and sure enough, within just a few minutes, we're arguing. Getting kinda loud, like drunken rednecks do, when basic training decides to intervene. By intervening, I mean wedging himself between she and I, with his back to her. I then get the pleasure of listening to basic training.

"Look here, buddy. You're not going to talk to this lady like that. Not in my presence. No sir, you will not. My advice to you is..." That's where I cut him off and said he should get out of my way and mind his business, unless he wants to do something about it. "You trying to get me to hit you? Well, buddy, you can forget that. I've been through basic training. You're drunk and you would me no match for me. So, I'm not going to hit you and you can't make me. Leave now." To which I replied, "Hit me."

Basic training: no
Me: hit me
Basic training: no!
Me: hit me
Basic training: no, and you might as well drop it because what I learned in basic training was...
Me: channels my inner Bugs Bunny and plants a smooch squarely on his lips.

After throwing a couple of haymakers, the crowd that had gathered, got him off of me and rushed him inside. A couple of gals are tending to my busted lip and begin to take me into the very apartment he's in. Oh boy.

As we step through the door, ol' basic training is sitting in the middle of the floor, Indian style, bawling freaking alligator tears. His girl is kneeled beside him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. I stop in front of him, half a dozen or so drops of blood from my busted lip, clearly displayed on my white shirt, and ask, "What the hell are you crying for? I'm the one with the busted lip!"

"I'm stronger than that! I'm disciplined! I've had basic training!"

Through my bloody, swelling lips, and in my best drunken, just got my ass kicked voice, I merely said, "Pussy," and walked away.
 
RR said:
Fried on a pan. Not deep fried like hush puppies. Think of it like making a pancake but with cornbread
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Fried “tater cakes” (mashed potatoes battered in cornmeal and milk w/onions) are good too!
 
indie_rocker said:
I'm the token gay guy of the forum. Seriously. I have a husband, we both enjoy firearms quite a bit.
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I'll tell you up front, we are much more interested in your opinion on meringue.
 
Let's see:
I do not like steak. Quit eating it in 1999 when I got serious about training, and can't stand it to today.
I'm crazy afraid of heights.
Never flown in a plane or copter.
Do not like bridges (see heights thing, lol)
Don't like tea (yes, grew up here. Use to drink it, but not in years now)
Can get emotional over animals.
Use to be sponsored by a surf and skate shop when younger, and have skated and competed against Per Welinder, skated with Tony Hawk, Rodney Mullen, and the Powell Peralta team.
And, as some have seen lately, I'm super obsessed with motorcycles and motorcycle road racing.

Sent from my T770B using Tapatalk
 
I like to think that I am the only person on earth who can claim this. Back in December 2004 I was deployed to Kabul, Afghanistan with my Unit who was there to be the Quick Reaction Force for the Inauguration for the first Afghan President (Kharzi). On the night preceding his inauguration we conducted constant patrols around the palace and during one of the breaks we took I asked my squad leader how long we were stopping for. Initially he was annoyed, thinking that I was bitching about being cold and tired but after I explained my plan, he laughed, set the squad into security positions and said “take as long as you need Doc”

I made my way right up to to palace wall, and with my kit still on, dropped trou and proceeded to have the coldest, most difficult beat off session of my life and “finished” on the presidential palace wall. Take that Taliban…
 
I ran into Buddy Hackett one time, quite literally. I was walking down Franklin St in Chapel Hill one evening paying no attention, he was getting out of a car parked in front of the Varsity Theater. I ran right into him. He had been in Durham for the Rice Diet. He smelled like popcorn. Or, maybe that was the theater.

I realize that many of you do not know who I ran into. So: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_Hackett
 
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I can't drink sweet tea but, I must have sugar in my coffee. Come to think of it, I don't care for much of anything sweet.

I get dizzy standing on a step stool. I must have Xanax/Valium to fly.

I cannot be in a room without windows for more than 10 minutes without severe anxiety ( I mean epic, full on, bat$hiite crazy).

In other words, I must be able to see sunlight at all times when my eyes are open. I only close my blinds/drapes at night when there is no sunlight. Basements without transome windows are a "no go", Linville Caverns almost took me out permanently, y'all have fun at Ruby Falls.
 
SimpleMan said:
Horry County.....



Chesterfield County.....
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York County....

s-l1000.jpg
 
I hate uncooked tomatoes in any form - but love tomato sauce.

I’m an alcoholic, named Tripp, with eight and a half years sobriety.

I have double jointed thumbs.

I’d give anything to be able to play music, especially piano, but musical notes make absolutely no sense to me. While I love to listen to nearly any music, I can’t make heads or tails of scales, keys or notes.

I love red Twizzlers.
 
Sleipnir said:
I ran into Buddy Hackett one time, quite literally. I was walking down Franklin St in Chapel Hill one evening paying no attention, he was getting out of a car parked in front of the Varsity Theater. I ran right into him. He had been in Durham for the Rice Diet. He smelled like popcorn. Or, maybe that was the theater.

I realize that many of you do not know who I ran into. So: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_Hackett
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One of the most devoted collectors of the Colt Single Action Army to have ever lived. Along with Mel Torme'.
 
Sleipnir said:
I ran into Buddy Hackett one time, quite literally. I was walking down Franklin St in Chapel Hill one evening paying no attention, he was getting out of a car parked in front of the Varsity Theater. I ran right into him. He had been in Durham for the Rice Diet. He smelled like popcorn. Or, maybe that was the theater.

I realize that many of you do not know who I ran into. So: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_Hackett
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I loved his standup. Hilarious.
 
JT said:
Canal or Cape?
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Neither, actually.
Me and two buddies took 30 days leave after a deployment in '94 and hopped a bunch of MAC flights from one base to the next. Would stay two, three, four days and party at each stop.
That was back in the days when the military didnt give a rats patootie what you did in your off time as long as you didnt piss hot and showed back up to work when you were supposed to.
Got back to Norfolk on the 29th day. Had one day to sleep it off and report in lol.
 
Miss Lily said:
I can't drink sweet tea but, I must have sugar in my coffee. Come to think of it, I don't care for much of anything sweet.

I get dizzy standing on a step stool. I must have Xanax/Valium to fly.

I cannot be in a room without windows for more than 10 minutes without severe anxiety ( I mean epic, full on, bat$hiite crazy).

In other words, I must be able to see sunlight at all times when my eyes are open. I only close my blinds/drapes at night when there is no sunlight. Basements without transome windows are a "no go", Linville Caverns almost took me out permanently, y'all have fun at Ruby Falls.
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I did full cave diving down in Fl for several years. I guess ya would not like that. 😁
 
I can’t drive a manual transmission. I know little to nothing about cars. Just never got it. When I hear people talk about their revved up double whopper hemi with the two by nine clutch with the super charged diddly whomper that gets 4 on the floor if they pop in the delta drive carburetor I just smile and nod and say “heck yeah brother! That’s awesome!” But what I am really saying is “huh?”.

Don’t get me wrong, I think cars are cool and like seeing neat ones. But I couldn’t tell a 57 Chevy from a Pontiac or anything. I know “that car looks cool.”


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 
Just Tripp said:
I’m an alcoholic, named Tripp, with eight and a half years sobriety.
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What is an alcoholic, in your opinion?

I drink daily, and to the point of drunkenness, so to speak. But, I take off Jan 1 or 2, through some time in March every year, meaning I don't drink anything and can't be talked into it, well, because I'm not drinking.

Pretty much drunk now.
 
BBD280 said:
We recently started a mobile Italian Ice business that has kept me pretty busy. So, I've got that going for me, which is nice.
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Hey….I already used our quota of Bill Murray in this thread!
 
Just Tripp said:
I’d give anything to be able to play music, especially piano, but musical notes make absolutely no sense to me.
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Ever try playing by ear? I've been twangin away at a guitar since I was 13, but the only instruction I ever had was a semester of Folk Guitar in 9th grade. We learned basic chording and some tablature, and were "introduced" to written music (hieromusiglyphs), but I never learned to read a sheet.

Don't get me wrong - I suck at guitar! :) I ain't no musician atall. I don't try to entertain anybody but me. But it's been a joy at times and a confort at others.
 
thrillhill said:
We grew up eating fried cornbread. That is one half of my favorite meal.
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My grandmom used to make that. We just called it cornbread, none of us had tasted the baked stuff. She fried it up in an old cast iron skillet. Give me a couple pieces of Grandmom's cornbread with a glass of her home made buttermilk and I was in heaven!
 
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