My life as a texas wannabe

I love Kentucky Fried Chicken. When I'm feeling country I eat KFC extra crispy. The other day I was out with my Texan friend Jake. We were in his big truck with sweet tea, a bucket of extra crispies listening to "a little bit of chicken fried" by the Zack Brown Band, on our way to the driving range. Good day. He got a call from his mama (who he called pretty lady) so I pretended I was a southern belle trucking through our little country town with the summer breeze in my hair and my cowboy lover on my arm. Reality is, I'm from Canada, we're in Lynchburg, I don't own a cowboy hat, the breeze was more of a rushing wind from the highway and Jake, bless his heart, is neither on my arm NOR my lover. But I did have sweet tea and KFC! A couple of weeks ago I went to a wedding in Texas. I've decided that Texans are part of a club. They eat deep fried Twinkies, kolaches, and gravy with their chicken nuggets. They two-step, wear cowboy boots and have Texas flags flown proudly. Not gonna lie, I felt left out. There were all these rules about line dancing and shuffling my feet, rules about what kind of boots to wear and songs I've never heard. Men asked you to dance and held you in their arms opposed to coming up behind you and grabbing your bum. Its a whole new world down there! So I've decided, I will move to Texas, cook me up some grits, buy me a truck and boots, and marry a country boy. All I need to do is listen to a little more Sugarland, grab an accent, drink a little more sweet tea and purchase those boots!