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What’s in a name?

The tragedy of our 45th President just keeps going. There are so many things wrong with our administration, I wanted to make a list of the things that are right. His names.

Donald J Trump has accumulated so many names over the past two years its hard to keep track. So in no grand fashion I present to you a running list of all the names the Donald has gotten:

  • Don the Con
  • Cheeto Von Tweeto
  • Donald Drumpf
  • Orange Marmalade
  • Cheeto
  • Baby Hands
  • Herr Gropenfuhrer
  • Mango Mussolini
  • The Angry Yam
  • Lord Dampnut
  • Trumplethinskin
  • Butterscotch Fog
  • Emperor Spray Tan
  • Fuckface Von Clownstick

There are so many more, we could almost be here all night. But I’ve got an awesome bottle of Duplin’s Sweet Red to kill off and only so many hours left in the evening.

Have you heard a name that isn’t on the list? Leave a comment below and we will get them added!

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You Can Take The Girl Out Of Dixie…

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Actually no. No you cannot.

When I think of this current administration, the feelings that it invokes within me are best  described by my late Grandmother:

As nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Speaking of rocking chairs, did you see the press conference yesterday? Which rocker is he off of? I begrudgingly sat through 76 minutes of what equated to a whiny, ego filled, narcissistic meltdown. By the leader of the free world.

As I was crafting later yesterday evening, I was have a large glass of Duplin’s Hatteras Red and replaying the highlights to my husband when an idea struck me! Combine two things I love: crafting and politics.

Vinyl and voting.

Recipes and referendums.

Burlap and the Bill of Rights.

Wine and Whips.

Okay, so that last one isn’t very crafty. But it’s wine, which is almost a necessity to get through both crafting and politics. So from this post forward, prepare yourself! You’ll learn important terms in the political sphere, have access to free cut files, learn new and simple techniques for common crafting projects and maybe, just maybe, join the revolution.

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Trigger Warning

Being a Southern Snowflake is not a joke. It is not for the faint of heart or overtly sensitive. Being a Snowflake in the South is hard. I’ve never once been called a Snowflake before.

Oh, except that time I was buying coke and someone obviously pointed out my pale skin and blonde hair.

But that’s not important. Back to the point.

I’ve never been called a Snowflake before with such distain. I grew up in a tightly conservative home, on a tobacco farm in a town of 2,000 people. To say that I was sheltered growing up is putting it mildly. After high school I blew that town, traveled the country, learned a great bit and met some kick ass people. I was never a conservative again.

In the past 2 years I’ve witnessed the entire Nation become so polarized it is almost scary. I’ve been called a snowflake, libtard, libturd, femi-nazi, cuck and many other names I would have never guessed could be equated with left leaning views. I’ve marched and protested, taken my child to march, boycotted businesses and television shows, called my representative, written Congress, and signed petition after petition.

I am a left leaning independent.

I support LGBTQ+

I support Women’s Rights.

I am godless.

I am Southern.

I love Dixie. This is my home. It’s where I was raised, where I always came back to when I was abroad, and where I most likely will die. It’s where my children were born, where my husband is from, and where I love.

Some people have a hard time reconciling these things in their minds. But make no mistake, I love country music and cowboy boots. I will also be on the front lines of the next Black Lives Matter rally.

Through bad jokes and incoherent ramblings, I hope to bring you a different side of the politicized South that you may not realize exists. One that is blue like the Tarheels, sweet like Tea, wears boots and pearls and sleeps in on Sunday because there are a ton of great places for craft beer around here!

So come with me. I can’t promise to always make sense, but I can promise to teach you that not all Southerners are stupid or slow. Some of us are educated and sick of Washington’s shit.