"White Trash on the Move"

When Cassie and I were in high school, her dad, Dr. Bob, jokingly called us White Trash On The Move.

circa 1994

This was offered lovingly, and with humor; if you know Bob you wouldn't think it was anything mean...just funny, especially since we weren't wild children.  As Elle Woods would argue, "Because I'm not a Vanderbilt, suddenly I'm white trash?"

Not exactly, but...

• Spending upwards of 90 minutes AquaNetting one's self and tight-rolling jeans just to go cruise the Hardee's parking lot?

According to Dr. Bob, that's White Trash on the Move.

As we grew up, we remained One The Move...

White hose on high school gradution day = OTM!

and we started to recognize for ourself when things were becoming a tad WT... 

• Getting asked to leave the UGA press box because you really weren't a sports reporter despite your glossy press pass (that didn't come with an And Guest option - who knew) ?

That's earned a spot in our WT Hall of Fame.

• Tennis shoes and nada-Prada knocks-off at the White House?

On the Move!

A few months ago, Cas and her husband, Mike were invited to a Carribean destination wedding. Dan + I had enough Marriott points for a week in the same place, so naturally we decided to go crash the wedding make a trip out of it together. Only thing is...none of us had ever heard of said locale (nor had most of people we told), and we had to use a little Hooked On Phonics to figure out how to even pronounce it.  What do you do for a sick pig, Dan quizzed?

Cure a sow!

All this week, Dan + I have been together in Curacao with Cassie and her husband Mike...on, as it's come to be known between Cas + me, The Pig Trip.  

• Needing your passport to travel to a place you can't easily pronounce?

If that's not White Trash on the Move, I don't know what is...