Welcome to Texas. I believe I have trained you well, and provided you great experience and knowledge, and you'll be sure to impress others with all that you know "for a transplant" or whatever transplants say. I don't associate myself with the folk much. Below, you'll find more handy, helpful, and downright friendly tools that you may utilize in your endeavors at your whim.
Remember, "Tejas" means "friendly."
Metaphors, analogies, similes, aphorisms
It’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
That’s close enough for government work.
Might as well. Can’t dance, never could sing, and it’s too wet to plow.
I could sit still for that.
You can’t beat that with a stick.
Fat as a boardinghouse cat.
Fat as a town dog.
She’s warm in winter, shady in summer.
He don’t care what you call him as long as you call him to supper.
So big he looks like he ate his brother.
So big he has to sit down in shifts.
Big as Brewster County.
Big as Dallas.
Big as a Brahma bull.
She’d rather shake than rattle.
He’s big enough to bear hunt with a branch.
He’s all spread out like a cold supper.
Wide as two ax handles.
He’ll eat anything that don’t eat him first.
He’s got a big hole in his screen door.
She’s one bubble off plumb.
She’s one brick shy of a load.
She’s two sandwiches short of a picnic.
He’s a few pickles short of a barrel.
There’s a light or two burned out on his string.
He’s missing a few buttons off his shirt.
The porch light’s on but no one’s home.
He’s lost his vertical hold.
He’s overdrawn at the memory bank.
I hear you clucking, but I can’t find your nest.
She’s got too many cobwebs in the attic.
Crazy as a bullbat.
Crazy as Larrabee’s calf.
Hot as Hades.
Hot as the hinges (or hubs) of hell.
Hot as a depot stove.
Hot as a two-dollar pistol.
Hot as a billy goat in a pepper patch.
Hot as a summer revival.
Hot as a pot of neck bones.
Hot as a stolen tamale.
Hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.
Hotter than whoopee in woolens.
Hotter than a honeymoon hotel.
Hotter than a burning stump.
Hotter than blue blazes.
Hotter than a fur coat in Marfa.
So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.
He can strut sitting down.
He’s all hat and no cattle.
She’s all gurgle and no guts.
He chamber-of-commerced it.
Tight as Dick’s hatband.
Tight as a tick.
Tight as a clothesline.
Tight as a fiddle string.
Tight as wallpaper.
Tight as a wet boot.
Tight enough to raise a blister.
So tight he squeaks when he walks.
He’ll squeeze a nickel till the buffalo screams.
She has short arms and deep pockets.
He could draw a pat hand from a stacked deck.
He always draws the best bull.
He’s riding a gravy train with biscuit wheels.
He could sit on the fence and the birds would feed him.
In tall cotton.
Running with the big dogs.
He didn’t come to town two to a mule.
She’s got more than she can say grace over.
So rich they can eat fried chicken all week long.
Rich enough to eat her laying hens.
If a trip around the world cost a dollar, I couldn’t get to the Oklahoma line.
He’s so broke he’s busted all Ten Commandments.
Poor as a lizard-eating cat.
Hasn’t got a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out of.
So poor I had a tumbleweed as a pet.
I ate so many armadillos when I was young, I still roll up into a ball when I hear a dog bark.
So poor we had to fertilize the sills before we could raise the windows.
Poor as sawmill rats.
He’s broke as a stick horse.
He’s too poor to pay attention.
So poor the wolf won’t even stop at their door.
So poor their Sunday supper is fried water.
Too poor to paint, too proud to whitewash.
This is hog-killing weather.
There’s only a strand of barbed wire between here and there, and it’s down (after a blizzard).
Cold as a well-digger’s knee.
Cold as a frosted frog.
Cold as an ex-wife’s heart.
Cold as a cast-iron commode.
Cold as a banker’s heart.
Cold as hell with the furnace out.
© 2024 O'Neal Hart (AKA #1 Mell Stan)