Hang on to Your Teeth (It Sucks to Be a Hillbilly)

You know you're a Hillbilly when:

Your six-year old is excited about losing his baby teeth so he can "look like Daddy."

You list the jailhouse address as your "summer home."

You've been in fourth grade longer than your teacher.

You've had to move the spittoon so that Grandma could have a straight shot while cooking dinner.

A loaded shotgun at the dinner table is not even exciting.

You think Lard and Gravy are two of the four major food groups.

Your family has its own wing in the County Jail.

Your family "portraits" can be found at the post office.

You think that trigonometry has something to do with shooting guns.

Other people actually thank you when you take your occasional bath.

You drive across two states to get to your grandmother's funeral and discover that you left your teeth in a mason jar in Kentucky (true story).

Fried Chicken, Grits, Chewin' Tobacco, and RC Cola make up your "Food Pyramid."

You think that "Plato" is something that Mexicans eat on.

You can proudly introduce someone as your "half-brother, cousin, and uncle, all-in-one." (By the way, his son will be your nephew, second-cousin, and grand-uncle)

Your "first cousin twice-removed" means that he is a repeat offender.

Your front porch collapses and it kills more than five dogs.

Your upper and lower teeth never meet in the same bite.