2002-07-24 - 7:48 p.m.

You know it's time to get the hell out of your tiny village when....

You call the repair shop that has your car and when asked what you want done to that car you reply, "Well, fix the brakes and if you could, just give it a good look all over, it hasn't been in optimal shape lately," and the repair guy says back, "Wow! Big word, you must not be from around here."

Your neighbors have a sign posted on the corner that says, "Yard Sell".

The cashier at the grocery store picks up the avocado you are trying to purchase and says, "I don't know what this is, how am I supposed to ring it in if I don't know what it is?" and then a few seconds later gets to the wheel of Brie and eyes it suspiciously before saying, "Man, you buy some weird stuff."

The wine selection at the village grocery store consists of Boone's Farm and Reunite.

The highlight of everyone's year is the Beer and Braut (how do you spell that?) fest.

You can hear roosters crowing from your back porch and the smell that permeates your house is of cow and pig manure.

You realize that you have been dodging large piles of horse shit in the road for the last eight years.

And finally, you know it's time to get out of your tiny village...when you realize that you have taken a liking to wearing your hair in pigtails, wearing a mid-riff shirt and walking around snapping gum and wearing no shoes.

I've become a country bumpkin.


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