Welcome to Gingertown

My name is Chelsey, and I am a proud Ginger. You'd think I wouldn't toss around this highly offensive term, but it is now a word we use affectionately between Gingers. Kind of like the "N" word for black people.
Thanks for stopping by, but remember, don't get too comfortable because this is a Ginger only zone.

While you're here, I'd like to give you a brief history on Gingertown. Get you a little more acquainted. This is all fact.

The year was 1965 and Ginger bullying was at an all time high. Tired of roundhouse kicking everyone in the face, morning, noon and night, Chuck Norris decided something had to give. But what?
One night he settled into his rocking chair made of cobras, grabbed the sand paper blanket he's had since he was a tot and munched on his favourite snack of nails and needles. While channel surfing from 2-5 over and over again, he came across this sad looking Ginger boy on the television.
"3 year old Axl Rose, fetch me the telephone. I have to make an important telephone call to Hollywood."
You might think it's strange that Chuck Norris' slave child was Axl Rose. I think so too.

A week passed, and a small Ginger boy knock came at Chuck's front door. Big eared, freckle faced Ron Howard stood in the door way. Eyes wide with a toothy grin and his hand out stretched. "We have a lot of important work to do, friend."

Thus, the original Ginger alliance was formed. Chuck and Ron brainstormed into the wee hours of the morning. "What can we do to make people accept us for who we are, not for what colour our hair is?" Ron asked.
"There's nothing we can do." Chuck answered. "Everyone hates us. But we can start a new civilization, all our own. We can call it Gingertown."
Chuck and Ron super Ginger high fived and Axl had a turd in his diaper.
"Change my diaper, pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pleeeeeaaase? Pleeeeaaase?"

So there you have it, the origin of Gingertown. We are sitting at a cool 140, 000, 000 Gingers world wide, with a Gingertown population of about 500, 000. That's about the size of Hamilton, Ontario.

Old Papa Chuck is still active in the crimson community, participating in things like potato sack races and policing the entire city. You don't get thrown in jail here, you get a swift kick in the nuts. But by Chuck's standards, you're only going to learn your lesson if the end result is your testicles in your mouth. Crime is at an all time low.

I don't know why I associate bad eye sight with red hair. Oh wait, yes I do.

I was elected mayor of Gingertown on January 21, 2011. What a joyous occasion that was. Molly Ringwald danced barefoot doing ribbon gymnastics, while Tiffany and Reba McEntire sang their own rendition of "Red red wine". Danny Bonaduce and Lindsey Lohan got drunk on more than just the lyrics, and ended up making public whoopee. Yes, it was definitely as gross as it sounds. Chuck gave them both a knee to the fire crotch.

We like things simple here in Gingertown. We enjoy collecting glass figurines of all types, shapes and sizes. Cats, dolphins, salt and pepper shakers, dragons, roosters, people dancing ballet, unicorns, etc. You name it, chances are, we collect it.

For the most part, our town is virtually the same as yours, with some small differences. Our grocery stores sell hot dogs in packs of 12 as per usual, but hot dog buns also come in packs of 12. Barbecues go a little smoother here. Instead of the many possible choices of orange juice that you have, we have one. Nothing but pulp. The general consensus shows that the favoured food of Gingers is saltine crackers topped with ketchup and processed cheese slices. Fashion is a bit behind, but it's hardly noticable. Right now, the biggest trend among the ladies is high waisted jean shorts that go to your knee. You know, the kind that make your butt look about two feet long. And bandanas. We still think those are cool.

One of the downsides of living in Gingertown and being of Flaming decent is, we have a severe (almost critical) shortage of One A Day Soul Supplement pills. But I think I'm going to have a chat with the pharmaceutical company we deal with, because they taste an awful lot like brown sugar mixed with cod liver oil. I think they might be yanking my chain.
We live in a dome because the sun burns our skin and nobody likes us very much, but the overall quality of life is pretty good.
So if you like orange juice with nothing but pulp, bandanas and having no one like you, join us. Seriously. We need more friends.