Some might say I’m from the South, but I say I’m from Oilfield country.  I was raised around a lot of cowboys and rednecks. Where I’m from, rednecks generally are roughnecks, because oil and football goes hand in hand in my hometown. This varies from place to place depending on what resources each have.

         

Now, roughnecks are oilfield hands and though some may not be very book smart—they make damn good money risking their lives everyday on a rig. If you marry a redneck, you are, by default a redneck yourself and will have little child-RENs running around with bright red necks. Now, my mom married a redneck/roughneck after I was born so by default I got some traditional behaviors but it’s not in my blood line. I’m a mix of all kinds of desirable concoctions and some less than desirables brews. I come from cowboys, Frenchmen and IRS tax agents.

   

Now, I was raised about 100 miles west of Midland TX in a little town called Lovington.  Yes, the same Midland Texas our former good-ol’-boy George W. Bush called home for many years. I wasn’t born in this tiny desolate town, but came into this world through my mom’s vagina in a little hospital in Utah. (No—I’m not a Mormon). As a child, we moved around a lot, but always went back to that small dogmatic town resting inside the southeast corner of New Mexico and about 20 minutes away from the Texas perimeters.

      

So, you ask, “What does Lovington have to offer?” Well, a career in oil and dairy cows is not a bad way to make a living in Lea County. Actually, it’s pretty much the only way.  Now, most of the residents in Lovington believe in Jesus and has a vast scope of dominations and churches. High School football follows Jesus and the Wildcat is the town’s second messiah. Now, this town’s not all bad, but it’s not all good either. It has its fair share of corrupt law enforcement, guns, domestic beer, dirt weed and a high teenage pregnancy rate. Some living there might find a few of those to be assets not problems. I don’t own a gun but I haven’t stopped lookin’ for one yet, either. It’s in my nature to desire shooting a gun. (Not at animals) Thursday Tejano night at the Inn is a big deal and on many occasions will result in a bar fight and (a lot of the time) drug deals gone, well…good. 

It’s not secret Lovington has a large number of crystal meth/cocaine addicts. Sadly, it’s a growing trend in rural areas in between the bigger cities. Lovington can be really dull and stagnant so kids end up doing drugs and fucking—in that order. Then they grow up to be parents who do drugs—not in that order. Drugs are an addicts first priority and everything else comes last.



          
Lets us accentuate the positive and point out Lovington has produced seven world champion calf and team ropers, and most notably the famous Chicago Bear, Brian Urlacher, as well.

Anybody living or passing through Lovington’s city limits knows how proud the town is of Brian. They have a monstrous size mural of Urlacher painted on the side of the old abandoned Gibson’s store building. You can’t avoid noticing this tribute as you drive into the town.  He was the football jock that farted extremely loud in class and blamed it on less popular unsuspecting individuals. Yes, yours truly was one of those less popular unsuspecting nerds in Jr. High and some of High School. At one time I was good friends with Brian; then he became popular overnight and left his out-of-favor friends behind. I’ll be honest; it took me awhile to be happy for him and his success. I got tired of being resentful and put that burden down and moved on to wish him nothing but the best.

        

Okay, back to my point: What else, besides the great/bad qualities I mentioned does Lovington have to offer?  The answer: REDNECK/ROUGHNECK BARBEQUE’S! That’s right—beer guzzling, shitty dirt weed, pit bull on a thick chain (if you’re lucky), crispy skinned chicken legs, hamburgers, potato salad/beans and hot dogs burning on a small charcoal grill cookout!

Throughout my on and off again living arrangements in Lovington, I attended many redneck barbeques throughout the course of my adolescents and young adulthood. For those of you that have never had the pleasure of attending one of these great “special” events, I’m gonna break it down for all of you.

 
Oh, you'll only find a house like this on the outskirts of LVT 
                            (funny though)

First you’ll arrive to either a house with weeds as grass and blankets as curtains. Or for some it may be a trailer house with rusted aluminum siding and at least one cracked window with duct tape holding it together.  You’ll have to park on a dirt road somewhere in between all the trucks with big tires and rebel flag décor on the license plates with “piss on Ford” stickers next the gun rack in the back window.  You’ll either hear Lynard Skynard’s, ‘Free Bird’ or ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ blaring from inside of the house.

It’s usually so loud that that the ones smoking weed in the back have to scream at each other during a rather stoned and ‘enlightened’ conversation.

       
                       Good ol' trusting Jimmy Joe

Now, Rednecks usually smoke weed inside the house but are too paranoid at the beginning of a cookout. Mainly because they’re not drunk enough to worry about Jimmy Joe bringing over a sneaky snitch because he’s slow and trusts anyone that has a bag of weed— including undercover narcotic officers.  

There’s no need to knock on the front door. Nobody will hear you over the cheap stereo with busted speakers and no bass that sounds as though Johnny Van Zant has the microphone right up to his tonsils.

    

This is when you reluctantly walk around to the backyard hoping the pit bull (because there will be one) is tied up with a very thick SHORT metal chain. You push the gate back as far as it will go before it gets caught up in tree size weeds blocking the path. You will then have to climb over the weeds and creep into the backyard. This is when you will notice a circle of guys standing around the grill. They all will have a beer and cigarette in the same hand while passing either a pipe or joint with the other. This will be around the time your presence is noticed and the pit bull begins snarling while dispersing lots of dog spit that hangs from its jaws. 

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 1:
If there is no thick chain on the pit bull—don’t run! Be patient and stand very still until you are placed. Otherwise you will only provoke the dog and your mauling will become a source of entertainment.

Usually whoever has the joint will desperately hold his hit in while hiding the joint behind his back trying to determine if you’re cool or not. He’ll spend the next ten minutes hacking his brains out and If he doesn’t know you then you better hope someone around him does. If you’re found to be ‘cool’ you can join the circle. It’s important to make sure and take a hit to show just how “cool” you really are. If you don’t smoke weed then save your ass by telling them you’re on parole and have a piss test the next day and they might let you slide but you still will be treated like a narc.

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 2:
Watch out for the children. They can be mean little dysfunctional fuckers. Usually, you’ll spot them teasing the dog by throwing flaming Black Jacks or bottle rockets at its head. Watch your ass because they will steal your cigarettes or wallet. 

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 3:
Sometimes when the fire goes out (yes there will be a fire) and the wood is gone, rednecks/roughnecks get drunkenly creative. Don’t laugh when they leave and come back with a very large tree dragging behind their truck (roots and all) because it will piss them off. Folks, I’ve seen it happen first hand and not making this shit up! We sat on one end of the tree while it burned from the other end.

It’s important to be aware of my tips and etiquette of a redneck barbeque if ever find yourself midst of one. Trust me certain things do not fly at hillbilly social events. If you do not heed my warnings it could cause a lot of, “you better not be hittin’ on my ol’ man,” confrontations. You must learn the basics and follow the rules. 

First: Everybody is suspicious of everybody else at a redneck barbeque. Someone is either not breaking down with their coke stash; another person’s bag of weed is missing or someone is fucking another persons husband/wife. I’ve been at both ends of that latter part of that warning and it wasn’t pretty. I ran into a husband and a wife I had sex with (on different occasions) and I left quickly.

Always note, toward the end of the night there will be drama. An old argument from the past will come up in a drunken conversation between Billy and Tiny Joe which later will make amends by one or the breaking down with their stash.

Secondly, a cat fight will happen between two middle-aged females with names like Tammy Jo and a Barbra. Why? Most likely because Barbra consoled Tammy Jo’s ol’ man (she gave him a blow job in his truck in the parking lot of a local bar) while his marriage was going through a rough patch.  This is when the red chipped nail polished claws come out and a hair starts being pulled; flying about inside a dirt cloud.

Sadly, it’s not erotic as you’d hope.  Both are wearing very short daisy dukes with old shirts from their ol’ mans closet they cut into half shirts with no sleeves. They’ll have a red burn tan on their arms (up to were the sleeve’s been cut) but everything else is ass white.  Now, both will have two handful of kiddos between them and it has taken quite a toll on their bodies.  

Beware: During these fights legs will twist in all kinds of un-aesthetically pleasing directions. You will unwilling observe both have neglected to maintain their hairy pussies for many years— and are obviously not wearing any panties. 

   
REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 4:
During the fight, do not taunt the angry pussy because it will have teeth and bites! Trust me on this. I was once a drunken fool that dared to get close enough to point my finger five inches away from an angry bearded vagina, while saying, “Dude, check out that hairy vagina.”  It gave a growl and snapped at me. 

    

After both females are finally split apart all of the remaining drunks will itch to get invited to the back room to do a line of whatever stimulant is being offered. Most need it because they are too drunk to function. Be careful because there’s a lot of ass kissing around this time mixed in with paranoia. Most will be pacing as they wait on Tommy to get back with the bootleg liquor and Billy to return with more drugs and or their money.

It’s sad, because several days later you will run into Billy or Tommy at an Allsup’s convenience store looking disheveled buying beer and cigarettes. Both twisted off to go on a week long coke/speed bender; the party never stopping until the money from their last paycheck has gone up their nose or in their arm.

Oddly, as much as I hated going to those redneck barbeques and all the dysfunctional drama they embodied I find myself missing them from time to time. I don’t miss the drugs in the slightest and glad I don’t find myself in the position of seeming ‘cool’ any longer. As I grow older I’d like to attend more ‘King of the Hill’ like barbeques that bring good-hearted people together over food with a simple ‘hometown’ atmosphere; void of pretentious assholes that base their values on trends and labels.

I may seem as though I’m making fun of the people of Lovington and I will tell you what…I am. But I’m making fun of myself as well; because it’s the place I spent most of my life. It’s apart of me. I have many wonderful friends I love dearly from that area. Not all the law enforcement is corrupt, but by-the-book and hard working. Not all my memories are bad but warm and kind. Some living in Lea County are conservative bigots but some are giving and accepting to those less fortunate or different from themselves.

   

So Lovington: A place you can go to feel relieved about leaving but happy to spend a minute to reminisce. And until it crumbles into a big oilfield ditch, it will always be a place for the best Redneck/Roughneck Barbeques on this here earth...I'll tell you what...

Thanks for reading.