As part of my initiation into Dirrty Southern culture, my retail co-workers plan to take me to a a 'lil thing on Monday called:

Tator Day

Tator day is some sort of festival...of sorts...I'm unclear as to the premise of said festival. I'm using my context clues to extrapalate that this festival has something to do with potatoes. I've been promised a showing of course manners by people who may or may not be able identify the Mason-Dixon line on a map, but they fo' sho' know that they live below it. There is a parade of tractors and other assorted farm equipment. Maybe I'll get to pet the blue ribbon pig!!

I'm approaching this day as an anthropological study of people who think Jeff Foxworthy is funny and keep "Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?" on the air. I'm also trying not to be a total snob about the whole thing. I should also make it clear that this festival is hosted by a neighboring county not the one in which I reside (as if that makes it any better?)

My co-workers are also approaching this an an anthropological study of how an urbanite like me handles Lynard Skynard blaring from pick up trucks waving the rebel flag. OMG!!!! What have I agreed to????? In their defense, they say that they wouldn't be caught dead there if it weren't for this little experiment.

I promise a full report of all fashion faux pas (including but not limited to):

daisy dukes paired with high heels
Def Leppard concert tees
mullets of all shapes and sizes
jail tats
assorted bra issues, including the lack of
"I'm with stupid" tees

Scarlett

P.S. Quiz answers to be posted....