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Nobody actually works in LA

Paula Froelich LA trafficNo one works. They just create traffic jams. (Photo from RESPRES’ Flickr.)

OOOf. It has been a while. My bad. Truly. I was off in New Orleans hanging with hunky Bayou Boys for a story on BP and the conmen living on Flotels for AOL… Then went to LA to hang with my sisters and tape the voicing for the animation on my MTV show, Grits. LA is so funny. Everyone either thinks I’m going to move there or have already moved there. Which is weird as LA is like my personal purgatory. You try finding someone in that town who isn’t a “producer” (scam artist), “model” (pretty girl with no job), “actress” (hooker), or “realtor” (see model). It’s pretty damn hard. What other city has traffic jams at 3 pm on a Tuesday? No one actually works there! (Says me, typing that shit in and noting the irony).

So, after a week of dealing with way too many people who have way too much silicone implanted in them, I came home from LA for 2 whole days and then jetted off to the ever fabulous redneck Riviera (on the banks of the Ohio River), Cincinnati, OH., where me and my little sister Emily shacked up with my Aunt Deedee and Uncle Jim on the West side of town. “We’re country out here,” Aunt Dee said, puffing away on a smoke. And she meant it – every other house on her block had an American flag flying and every garage had two cars: a pick up truck and a mini van. One day someone even sat on their porch and played a fiddle. Not kidding.

We did drive into Kentucky for a few days to see Red River Gorge outside Clay City, KY (where they make their own cigarettes – something that got Aunt Deedee super excited). We ate at Kathy’s Kountry Kitchen (KKK!) and listened to a hell of a lot of George Jones. It was actually a hell of a lot of fun. And Daddy – a card carrying member of the Tea Party – got in some good one liners:

Daddy on why he can’t turn his head to look behind him when he backs his car up in a crowded parking lot: “Ever since I lost my sexual drive, I stopped being able to turn my head. Lack of practice I guess.”

Daddy on Karl after Karl started humping his leg: “I ain’t holding that damned dog! He’s a homo!” (It’s true. My dog is gay. He also has no balls. Literally.)

Daddy also just sent me a copy of his “colonoscopy journal.” I will not recount it here lest you all lose your lunch like I did. (You’re welcome!).

So, to all those people who think that I grew up rich on the Upper East Side: Nope. I’m just a redneck from Ohio and Kentucky. And yes, there are Democratic rednecks who believe in religious freedom, unity of country and diversity. (Take That, Sarah Palin!)

I ended the week by going to a Merle Haggard and Brooks + Dunn concert – second row! And tailgated in a pickup truck just for effect. Yee haw!