A Quote by Jeff Foxworthy

You might be a redneck if you consider a good tan to be the back of your neck and the left arm below the shirt sleeve. — © Jeff Foxworthy
You might be a redneck if you consider a good tan to be the back of your neck and the left arm below the shirt sleeve.
You might be a redneck if your handkerchief doubles as your shirt sleeve.
I raise my left arm and twist my neck down to rip off the pill on my sleeve. Instead my teeth sink into flesh. I yank my head back in confusion to find myself looking into Peeta’s eyes, only now they hold my gaze. Blood runs from the teeth marks on the hand he clamped over my nightlock. “Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.
You might be a redneck if your favorite T-shirt is offensive in thirteen states.
You might be a redneck if you work with a shirt off... and so does your husband.
If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well this isn't too bad, I don't have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I'm left-handed or right-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of, "Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!"
You might be a redneck if you consider your license plate personalized because your dad made it in prison.
Sending money to Washington to have it administered and sent back is like getting a blood transfusion from your right arm to your left arm with a leaky valve.
I only thought I'd get one arm done at first. One arm turned into the other arm. Then I started tattooing my lower arms. I remember saying, 'Mom, don't worry, I'm never going to do anything on my neck.' Then I went to my neck and my chest and my legs, and I kept on progressing from there.
You might be a redneck if your boat has not left the driveway in 15 years.
Now, I'm older. I don't follow the vagaries of fashion: my look tends to be skinny flat-front trousers with a long-sleeve American Apparel T-shirt and a V-neck cashmere jumper - preferably Loro Piana.
I was 39 when I did, essentially, a three-quarter sleeve on my left arm. It was very late in life, which is good: I can't think of any decision I made at 19 that I'd be happy with at 39 or even now, at 51.
Man went into a bar, he only had one arm. Guy sitting next to him said 'Hey, you've got your sleeve in my drink', man replied, 'There's no arm in it'
A ball had passed between my body and the right arm which supported him, cutting through the sleeve and passing through his chest from shoulder to shoulder. There was no more to be done for him and I left him to his rest. I have never mended that hole in my sleeve.
'Redneck' has been terribly abused as a term. Where I come from, a redneck was a farmer who worked the fields all day and got his neck sunburned. People made fun of them.
You might be a redneck if you consider pork and beans to be a gourmet food.
If you're afraid they might discover your redneck past, there are a hundred ways to cover your redneck past.
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