I was at the grocery store this evening picking up a few of life’s essentials… You know… Milk… Bread… Yogurt… A can of juice…

Wait what???

Say that out loud once or twice… “A can of juice.”… “A can… Of juice” It’s completely accurate, yet it has a distinctive white trash ring to it when you actually say it out loud.

So anyway…

I’m in the grocery store, minding my own business, letting my neuroses get the better of me once again as I try to determine which flavor of salad dressing to buy, afterall, it’s not an easy decision…

I mean which flavor of salad dressing among the virtual cornucopia of salad dressing’s available really and truly encapsulates my being and defines me as a person…

(I went with Newman’s Classic Caesar)

photo credit: Qfamily

When the trashiest of white trash women rolls her cart around the end-cap display of Re-Nuzit Rug & Room deodorizers and lumbers her way up the aisle with her brood of unwashed children in tow…

She is a short woman, a lil’ over 5 feet tall, 30 to 35 years old, but from the looks of her I’d say they were rough years, weighing probably in the neighborhood of 225 to 250 pounds. She’s wearing a blue bandanna, dirty gray sweat pants that are visibly threadbare between her ham-hock thighs from rubbing together and a t-shirt that I think used to be white (Now a dirty tannish yellow color) with food stains down the front, some of which appear as old as the shirt itself, and others which look like they literally just happened, which has airbrushed on the front in those rainbow letters…

And I swear to god this is true… “Sexy Thang!”

photo credit: Zesmerelda

Needless to say, I grabbed my salad dressing and beat a hasty retreat… Before I could get out of the aisle though I heard her say… “Brandy go get me a can of juice… You know the one I like, and take Crystal with you!” At which point two of the five unwashed, and for all appearances, unfed, future trailer park residents ran past me to go get… A can of juice…

So I thought back to all the Brandys’ and Crystals’ I’ve known in my life… And let’s be honest here… If you know a girl named Brandy or Crystal chances are you either met her while she was dancing around a pole or you sold, or are currently selling (Far be it from me to judge how you make your living.) meth-amphetamines to her!

photo credit: icanteachyouhowtodoit

Anyway… I’m wondering if these girls were doomed to that life based on the name their parents chose for them? I mean… If their parents would have named them Heather or Ashley would they have grown up to be suburbanite moms rather than crack head whores? Is it a self fulfilling prophecy???

What about Wayne and Wade… If you have a son and you name him Wayne or Wade is he doomed to become a child-molesting, serial killer???

Here is the thing… If you feel the urge to name your daughter Jolene, Darlene, Starlene, Sharlene, Tammy, Shauna, Tonya, Brandy or Crystal, or your son Dwayne, Dakota, Skyler, Dustin, Earl, Tyler, Wade or Wayne you probably shouldn’t be having children because if you like any of these names… You are a white trash douchebag… And the world already has enough un-educated, un-employed, drug-abusing human waste! (For proof please see The Jerry Springer Show!)

I’m just sayin’…