As a recent transplant to the Dallas – Fort Worth Metroplex I agree with the state slogan of, “Texas, it’s like a whole other country.” It’s not only because the state is huge, or the fact that it has its own power grid. There is just something about Texas that sets it apart from other states. Every time I land in Dallas, for instance, I feel like I should get my passport stamped.
Tag: Texan culture
Texas Toast, it’s a common sight around here, “here” being Texas. So what’s this New York connection claiming to be “the original Texas Toast”? I may have unearthed a conspiracy, folks, the culinary equivalent of a chupacabra. Could it be mafia-related? Should I even be asking these questions? If any Texans out there know what’s up, please fill me in. Otherwise, I shall continue my investigation into this matter, and will report my findings in further blog posts, brave cub reporter that I am. While cruising the NaBloPoMo blog roll, I realized that I probably should have put my blog…
When I was a kid up in eastern Washington, I often carried pebbles in my pocket to toss ahead of me before stepping into tall grass. Sometimes I’d hear a rattler slithering out of the way afterwards. My little dog was good, too. She’d run ahead and keep the trail cleared of any snakes. I didn’t realize people ever shot snakes; so when I saw this ad for a snake gun proudly displayed in a shop window, it caught my eye. The ad amuses me because the guy they drew looks a bit like Hunter S. Thompson. I can just…
I expected a lot of nationalism when I moved to Texas, y’know, plenty of flags a-waving, and those culturally myopic “God Bless America” bumper stickers, as though the supreme universal deity cares only for my country. (Hey, I love America, too, but if God plays favorites, I’m gonna tell his mom.) Anyway, patriotism, I understand.
What I did not expect was the Tex-centricness of this particular state. In retrospect, the amount of Texas-shaped things I saw within moments of getting off the plane should have clued me in. On the way to baggage claim, I saw everything from belt buckles, cookies, tattoos, gold pendants, even a dachsund – no, not a Texan-shaped dachsund – but one wearing a sweater with a Texan star proudly stitched on the side.
Yes, it’s pretty hard to forget you are in Texas when you are in Texas; even with a severe head injury, I’ll wager you could figure that one out.
So the other day at Sam’s Club, I came across these Tex-Centric books and laughed. Wait, no, I guffawed (it sounds more Texan to guffaw, doesn’t it?) At any rate, I knew that I must quickly snap some pix to share with those of you who – gasp – live elsewhere.
What do you mean, you go to Curves? 24 Hour Fitness? LA Fitness? That’s sissy talk. Around these here parts, we take physical fitness seriously. That’s right. We are hardcore, hence the name. I haven’t actually been inside Hardcore Fitness, I merely snapped this shot as we drove by, but it’s all too easy to envision a Spartan interior, with plenty of cement and jutting corners. The dressing room benches are cold hard slabs, nothing cushy anywhere. Cold showers, for sure, and let’s not forget the lurching, no-necked, roid-filled trainers with monosyllabic names who barely move their lips when they…