You See, What I Meant Was, You’re Singing A Song About A Pontoon? That’s Super Cool!

Several weeks ago I posted a blog sharing my, somewhat sarcastic, thoughts on the Little Big Town hit, ‘Pontoon’. (If you promise not to verbally harass me, you can view it here.)

As it turns out, I’m not allowed to have thoughts about the hit song of the summer, because the people who enjoy the hit song, ‘Pontoon’ do not have the ability to read sarcasm on the internet.

At first people commented in a vain attempt to explain the song to me. I get the song guys. It’s a carefree song about spending the day on the lake. Shakespeare it is not. You’d literally have to be an Eskimo who lives in the arctic where there are only frozen lakes and no where to put a pontoon, to not understand this song. I just don’t like it, okay? Sometimes I hear songs I don’t enjoy, it happens. This does not however mean that I don’t understand what the song means.

Then my lovely commenting friends moved on from the kind responses in attempt to explain the song to accusing me of drug use for not enjoying/understanding the song. Again, I get the song. I was attempting to be humorous and mock the song. I failed clearly. It has very little to do with drug use. I don’t even use drugs, unless Mucinex counts. But that’s only because I have nasal congestion.

And then I received my favorite comment this morning. It was one sentence, merely the words, “Oh, this was supposed to be funny? Hmm.” Apparently they didn’t think it was funny. Now this comment seems sort of kind and not verbally abusive in any way, but it was signed “your mom” at the website “” with the email address of “”. Normally my mother is very supportive of my endeavors. Apparently even she cannot stand my mockery of Little Big Town and their love of pontoons.*

I guess what this says is I have become a hated member of the internet blogging society. So in an effort to clear my good name, I’m going to retract my mockery of Pontoon.

What I really meant to say was:

Dear Little Big Town,

I recently heard your hit song Pontoon on the WSIX in Nashville. As I was listening to the song I thought to myself, “WOW! This melody is incredibly well-crafted. I just want to bob my head forever while listening to it!” And then you started singing!! Those lyrics are nothing short of magical. You painted a phenomenal word picture of what it is like to spend your day on a Pontoon boat. When I finished listening to the song, all I wanted to do was buy myself a boat and hit the open water! Never did I think to myself, “this is a goofy song. Maybe I should write a blog adding my commentary to the lyrics.” Not once did I think that. Because this is a GREAT song. It’s obviously become the song of the people**. So kudos to you guys! You have a hit on your hands. I hope it makes you millions of dollar, so that maybe you can buy an even bigger pontoon!



*Guys, that comment wasn’t really from my mom. I think it was probably a very mature grown-up who thought they were hurting my feelings.

**Redneck people who love boats, and apparently the angry people who read my blog. Only those people.

Considering A Move to Nashville? Here’s All You Need To Know!

I’m a Midwestern girl transplanted to the south. I lived the majority of my life in good ol’ Olathe, KS, a delightful suburb of Kansas City. Needless to say when I uprooted myself and moved to Nashville, Tennessee, I was in for quite the rude awakening.

No one told me my world was going to be flipped upside down once I arrived in Nashville. People talk really slow here. In the time it takes a native Tennessean to finish one sentence, I can rattle off the entire declaration of independence. Every single food here has a crust. Macaroni and cheese? Crusted. Green bean casserole? Only if it has a crust. You like apples? Well let’s throw them in a vat of sugar and then put them in a crust! AND everyone here waves at me. I don’t know who you are stranger at the grocery store. Why are you talking to me? Why are you so friendly? What have I gotten myself into?

I was a stranger in a world full of fried foods and southern accents.

I don’t want anyone to ever have to go through what I did. It was the worst. I’m sure I looked like a tourist for at least the first 6 months I was here. People probably photographed me and tweeted things like “Look at tourist Sally here with the phone taking pictures of scenery. What a fool!!” I do not like to mocked via twitter, guys.

And that, my friends, is why I’m here to offer you my personal guide to living in Nashville. Do all these things correctly and no one will be able to tell that you are not a native Nashvillian.

1. Always wear cowboy boots. Preferably with a sundress (If you’re a female that is, probably don’t wear a dress if you’re a guy. That would be a little strange) or a plaid shirt. Also make sure to always wear a cowboy hat. It doesn’t matter if it’s classic ten gallon or leopard print, as long as you’ve got one on your head, you are a local.

2. There are country music stars on every corner. Always, and I do mean always, have your autograph book handy. You never know when you might run into Keith Urban.

3. If you can sing, you will get a record contract. There are literally NOT 100’s of struggling musicians in this town. So if you can carry a tune in a bucket, this is a good place to be.

4. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, has a horse. If you’re not riding up and down Broadway on a horse, you’re kind of a loser.

5. Opryland definitely lives up to its hype. People will tell you it’s so super cool and it’s like being outside in a beautiful garden, EXCEPT it’s inside. And they are correct. And it is totally worth the 18 dollars you have to pay to park there.

6. Paying 20 dollars to go to the Country Music Hall of Fame is a great investment. Sure, you may not know 90% of the names in the place, but they have a pair of Jason Aldean‘s wranglers!

7. It’s super cool to refer to Nashville as Nashvegas. And you’ll completely understand why it’s called that once you get here.

8. People are extremely supportive of the local minor league baseball team, the Nashville Sounds. If you go to a game, you better buy your tickets months in advance. Every game is a sell out!

There you have it. 8 simple things. If you stick to them you will look and feel like a Nashvillian before you know it! There’s no way my information could ever lead you astray. It’s helped me feel right at home and it can help you too!

[Editors note: Absolutely none of this is true. I am a big fat liar. And if you follow my advice you will be very sad. Because:
1. The only people who wear boots and cowboy hats, are in fact the tourists.
2. I’ve never seen a country music star here. Ever. I did see Jordin Tootoo once. But he’s not a country music star, he’s a hockey player.
3. There are 9 trillion people here who think they can sing. Only 1/16 are actually talented. Do not come here for a record deal unless you have the voice of an actual angel
4. No one has a horse. Absolutely no one. Well, the carriage drivers down Broadway do, but they’re catering to the foolish tourists.
5. Opryland is not worth the 18 dollars. Plain and simple.
6. I would literally pay 20 dollars again, just to see Jason Aldean’s pants. So, ya, that one’s actually true.
7. I have no idea why people call this place Nashvegas. There are no showgirls or casinos.
8. No one goes to the Sounds games. I went on Tuesday. There were approximately 75 people there. If I had sneezed I’m pretty confident that the outfielders would have heard me.]

Seriously. Where Are You Keeping Your Catfish?

Hockey is sport full of very strange traditions. There’s the whole drinking champagne out of a giant shiny cup, using the same jockstrap since juniors (I’m talking about you Sidney Crosby. You’re disgusting) and not using a razor once the playoffs begin. And then we have the incredibly strange playoff tradition of throwing sea-life onto the ice rink after your particular team scores.

Visit Joe Louis Arena in Detroit Michigan around the beginning of April. Wait until the Red Wings score a goal and the strangest thing will happen. An octopus will fly out of the crowd onto the ice. Then take a trip south to Bridgestone Arena in Nashville Tennessee. When the Predators score, a big fat catfish will just miraculous fall on the ice. And in both places a poor ice girl will be given the task of picking up the slimy creature with her bare hands and retrieving it. The crowd gets really pumped up when these sea creatures grace us with their presence. I have nothing against throwing ocean dwelling creatures on ice. In fact, I get pretty pumped up about it myself, mostly because it means my Preds have scored, but it does lead me to beg the question:

Sea Creature Throwers, how in the heck are you storing these things?

A hockey game is at least an hour and forty minutes in length. You’ve got 3 twenty minute periods with the two twenty minute intermissions in between. But then you’ve got fights that happen. Then they have to stop the clock. And then people score and the clock stops. Pucks go into the crowd. Stop the clock. Basically a game is always going to be much longer than an hour and forty minutes. Meaning you people who wait until the 3rd period to throw your catfish are storing raw meat somewhere on your person for approximately an hour and half. And we’re not talking small catfish. We’re talking real big catfish. the kind you would mount on a wall. There’s no hiding these things.

Now see, I’m a girl. I have a purse. When I go to games the people at the door want to look in my purse to make sure I have no illegal paraphernalia. I’m 110% positive that if there was a catfish or an octopus in my purse, they would notice it. And I’m more than 110% positive that if I had an ice chest preserving my seafood, they would really notice.

Are you just carryng these things in, in plain sight? Because I’m pretty sure the PA Announcer always tells me to refrain from throwing things onto the ice. Do you just explain yourself to the security at the front door. “Oh this catifsh? No. I’m not going to throw it. I only eat seafood. This is my dinner.” They’re not falling for this. They know what you’re doing with that thing.

Obviously the most logical theory is that you have this thing strapped to you in some fashion. You saran wrap that sucker to your calf don’t you? If you wear baggy enough clothing you’re golden. No one’s going to know you’ve got a fish in your pants. But that leads me to another question.

Is it not uncomfortable having a 10 pound catfish strapped to your leg for 2 periods of hockey?

It has to be getting a little stinky at that point in the game. Do the people sitting next to you not object to your odor? I know the Predators and even the Red Wings score in the first period a lot. Why don’t you just throw it then? Why do you wait until the 3rd period? That’s a strange thing. Unless….is there only one person throwing all the catfish and octopi? Are you storing more than one fish on your body and throwing one for every goal? That is some serious dedication.

So I guess, in retrospect, I don’t think you’re crazy anymore. I admire your loyalty in supporting your teams goals with sea life. Obviously it’s not easy to keep those catfish and octopuses hidden from security. And alienating those around you with your smell, well that’s just a big commitment. I applaud you, you seafood thrower. As it turns out you are a better fan than me.

Taylor Swift, Why Don’t Your Songs Make Sense?

Hi there Taylor Swift!

Can I call you T. Swift? (It doesn’t matter what your response is. I’m going to do it anyway) How is it going? Just living the dream huh? Singing your country* music and traveling the world I’m sure.

You are very popular here in Nashville. I mean, REALLY popular. Every time I turn on the radio, there you are. Sitting in a restaurant you’re there. Walking through Walmart, T. Swift flowing through the air. You are everywhere. I might even say you are haunting me. Even when I don’t hear you on the radio, I hear you in my head.

DARN YOU AND YOUR CATCHY LITTLE TUNES! These songs go with me everywhere, but you know what? They don’t make sense. Any of them. Are you aware of this fact? I know you probably didn’t write them and you just sing them, but these songs have virtually no point to them. Most recently I’ve had your darling little song, “Ours” stuck in my head. And you know what, that one makes the least sense of all of them.

Allow me to expand on this thought. These are the lyrics to your song. I will explain line by line why this does not make sense. Are you ready? Good! Here goes!

“Elevator buttons in morning air [What? Elevator buttons in the air, or on an elevator? This song is already starting out a little weird]
Strangers’ silence makes me want to take the stairs [What do you want the strangers to do T. Swift? Ask you obnoxious questions? Do you really want that? I don’t think you do.]
If you were here we’d laugh about their vacant stares [That seems like a really rude thing for you to do. Why would you do that? Maybe you wouldn’t have as many haters if you didn’t laugh at strangers all the time]
But right now my time is theirs [What does that even mean? They’re strangers. Why is your time theirs? I’m confused T. Swift]

Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves
They’ll judge it like they know about me and you [Wait. Are the disapproving people the ones on the elevator? Or are these just people in general? You need to be more specific]
And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do [What verdict? Are we still on an elevator? When did we move to a courtroom?]
The jury’s out, my choice is you [The jury decided your choice for you? I thought you didn’t like people judging you? The jury decided your choice was him? I don’t understand you]

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind [That’s a really weird way to describe someones mind]
People throw rocks at things that shine [NO. They don’t. People don’t throw rocks as a general rule. Do you even live in the real world with the rest of us? I never see people throwing rocks at shiny things. And what does this have to do with the jury of people who were in the elevator with vacant stares? This song is all over the place]
And life makes love look hard [Does it? I’m not sure you know what you’re saying]
The stakes are high, the water’s rough [‘Stakes are high’ sounds like a poker analogy, but ‘water’s rough’ seems like a boat analogy. Are you playing poker on a boat?]
But this love is ours [Okay, ya this makes sense. Good job on this one] 

You never know what people have up their sleeves [Usually arms. And magicians sometimes keep playing cards up there]
Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me [Are these real ghosts? Or ghosts like bad decisions? If he has ghosts from his past why are you so obsessed with him. You seem to make bad choices in your love life. I mean you dated that werewolf that had the same name as you for a while. That was kind of weird]
Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles [What? The ghost wear lip gloss? Wait…are these ghosts his former lovers? I think I”m catching what your throwing out now T. Swift!]
But I don’t care ’cause right now you’re mine [You can’t own people! Slavery was outlawed. Ever heard of the emancipation proclamation? LOOK IT UP WEIRDO]

And you’ll say
Don’t you worry your pretty little mind [So now your mind is pretty? You guys are a bunch of weirdos]
People throw rocks at things that shine [NO. THEY DON’T]
And life makes love look hard [I still don’t think I agree with you here]
The stakes are high, the water’s rough [Still on that boat ‘eh?]
But this love is ours [Alright. I won’t take your love away]

And it’s not theirs to speculate [What’s not theirs? And who are they? Why are your songs so nondescript?]
If it’s wrong and [Oh. Okay. If your love is wrong is what’s not theirs to speculate. GOT IT!]
Your hands are tough [Get him some hand lotion. Problem solved]
But they are where mine belong and [Where your what belongs? Your hands? Weird] I’ll fight that doubt and give you faith
With this song for you [OOOHHHHH…..the song makes you feel better about your relationship. That makes so much more sense. (no it doesn’t)]

‘Cause I love the gap between your teeth [Michael Strahan?]
And I love the riddles that you speak [Jim Carrey as the Riddler? You are not describing this boy as very appealing]
And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored [The remarks might be necessary if the guy only speaks in riddles. That’s a weird thing to do]
‘Cause my heart is yours [Literally? Good to know you’re an organ donor]

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind [Weird]
People throw rocks at things that shine [Nope]
And life makes love look hard [It does not]
Don’t you worry your pretty little mind [You just said this]
People throw rocks at things that shine [Stop repeating yourself. They don’t do this!] But they can’t take what’s ours [This is true. That would be a felony]
They can’t take what’s ours [I said I agree. Why did you say it again?]

The stakes are high, the water’s rough [Poker on a boat is you guys’ thing huh?]
But this love is ours [That’s nice]”

[Wait. That’s how the song ends? Did you marry the boy with the tooth gap and tattoos? And what was the shiny thing people were throwing rocks at? What were the stakes? Did the water every calm down? DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING HERE TAYLOR!! There is absolutely no closure here. Why are you this way? Ugh.]

And why is your guitar so freaking sparkly/shiny? I hope no one throws rocks at it.

See T. Swift? See? That song had no ending. I don’t know if the people throwing rocks broke the shiny thing. I don’t know if you and the riddler ended up together. I don’t know anything. All you really did was open up more mystery and questions for me. I dont’ like that. I like songs with distinct happy endings. Or even sad endings. As long as there is an ending I’m good. But your songs don’t have endings. And I am not okay with this. Work on that T. Swift. Give your songs closure and then maybe when they’re stuck in my head I won’t feel as if I would rather stab a q-tip into my ear than hear the song again. That’s what we all want anyway. For me to be happy.

*I’m not entirely sure why your music is considered country, other than all you sing about is love and heartbreak

Catching Up on My Snail Mail

I’ve been needing to write some letters recently, but I’ve been very busy and haven’t been able to. So I hope you don’t mind that I’m taking the time to do it here. It’s so embarrassing that I’m this far behind! Please just bear with me as I try to catch up.

Dear Walmart employees,

I realize that you work at Walmart and you may not be real happy with your life because you are forced to wear khakis with a blue shirt everyday. I know it seems obnoxious when I stand in your line to purchase things like deodorant and pretzel sticks. But I’m not doing it to ruin your life. I’m really not. Angrily placing my items in the bag does not make me feel welcome in your store. And when you don’t speak to me or rotate the bag holder thingy ma-bob so I can get my items, I get really sad. All I want is some delicious pretzels to enjoy while I tend to my armpit odors. So next time I purchase products from you, maybe you could at least speak to me long enough to tell me how much money I owe you? That would be nice. Then I wouldn’t feel as though I inconvenienced you quite as much. And I might not hate your store anymore. Okay, thanks for listening. Have a nice day.

Your best customer,

Dear Atlanta Braves,

I’d like to apologize in advance. “For what?”, you ask. Well for the fact that you are going to have a losing season. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Kansas City Royals have been really terrible at baseball since I can remember. But I’m a big fan anyway, despite their ability to lose all the time. I have stuck by them thorough losing season after losing season. I sat through many a humid summer’s eve to root for them as they lost. It didn’t matter, they were my team. And then I moved to Nashville. I left my precious Royals back in Kansas and something weird happened. They got good. They began to succeed at baseball and they even have a chance at being contenders this year. As it turns out, all the Royals needed was for me to leave them alone and they would succeed. I’m very bad luck for baseball teams it seems and since I left Kansas everything is going swimmingly there. All that being said, now we get to the real issue at hand. You are going to be really terrible this year and it’s going to be all my fault. I can’t watch Royals games here in Nashville, so I had to choose an allegiance here. Unfortunately for you, I picked the Braves. And just as a sign of how much bad luck I am, you have already lost 2 of the only 3 games you have played in spring training. Yesterday you lost 18 – 3. I’m already bringing you bad luck and I’m really sorry about that. But I must have a baseball team to root for. I’m probably even going to attend a game or two. Again, really sorry. I don’t know how I provide this terrible luck for baseball teams, but I do. I just wanted to go ahead and let you know in advance how bad this season is going to be for you. It’s the least I can do, because after all, I’m ruining your lives.  As it turns out I’m not allowed to have nice things, and can’t have a winning baseball team near me.

Your inadvertent worst fan ever,

Dear Kansas City Royals,

Hey guys. I left Kansas City and took my bad baseball luck to the south for Atlanta to deal with. You’re welcome.

Your best fan ever,

Dear writers of How I Met Your Mother,

I’m starting to question you. There’s not really a mother is there? Ted steals those children off the street doesn’t he? I’m not going to lie to you, but your show is starting to make me angry. Why do you keep making Ted fall in love with Robin? You already told us in the first episode that she’s their Aunt Robin. Why do you keep bringing up that story line? This is not a Ross and Rachel scenario. We already know they don’t end up together. So stop it. Stop making Ted love Robin. It’s getting annoying. If you wouldn’t mind just introducing us to the mother soon, that would be great. Otherwise I’ll probably stop watching.

A disgruntled fan,

P.S. I won’t really stop watching if we don’t meet the mother soon, but you will get another, more angrily worded letter.

Dear Kelly Osbourne,

I was watching you this morning on Fashion Police. You were critiquing people’s clothing and fashion choices. Your hair is lavender. How are you qualified to give people fashion advice? Stop it.

All my love,

Whew…glad that’s over with. I think I’m finally caught up on my letters. I apologize for the awkwardness that you may have felt through all of that. I hope you didn’t waste too much of your valuable time reading those. I promise this won’t happen again. It’s so embarrassing, I‘m such a procrastinator!

The Hunt for the Perfect Man

My biological clock is ticking guys. It just keeps ticking and ticking and ticking. In fact, as I was writing that I lost 15 seconds of biology. And there went another 5. My time is whittling away! I need a man. NOW!

Being adorable and walking around Nashville waiting for a romantic comedy moment is not working for me. No one has chased me down at an airport and proposed to me. I haven’t even looked out my window to see a man singing to me in the pouring rain. I’m going to have to take things into my own hands now. So I’ve decided I should start online dating*. I’ve never made an online dating profile so I used this handy website to help me out. I followed their steps as best I could.

Step 1: Get Away From the Computer
I did not participate appropriately in this step. I hope that doesn’t tamper with my results.

Step 2: Thinking About Who You are and What You Like
I was supposed to write 10 things about myself but I didn’t want to write anything down, so I skipped this step as well. I’m really bad at following directions. I did think about ten things though, so that counts.

Step 3: Fine-Tune Your Personal List
Nope. Didn’t do it.

Step 4: Making Your List into Dating Profile Text
This step you’re supposed to take all your interests and make a rough draft. Here’s what I’ve got:

Hello! My name is Amanda. I am a preschool teacher in the Nashville area. I wipe boogers and try to keep 3 year-olds from killing one another for a living. I also try to teach them basic life skills like the ABC’s and manners. It’s a really exciting field to be a part of. Outside of spending all day with toddlers, I have little free-time. With my free-time I basically just sit on the couch watching hockey and googleing Tim Tebow and Sidney Crosby.

I hope you like neuroses because I have a TON I would love to share with you! First my foods cannot touch on my plate. If they do I won’t eat the part that touched the other food. I’d basically be the best kosher Jew ever. I also can’t stand in front of an elevator door. I don’t want to be the one that gets shot up when an angry man comes into work with a gun you know! My closet is color-coded and arranged by sleeve length. If you mess this up, I will have to put you down. If I get any sort of dirt on my socks I have to change them immediately, and if you touch my feet, well, we’ll have to end things right there.

I have a pet schnauzer, but he’s not really a pet, he’s actually a tiny person trapped in a dog’s body. His name is Wallace T. Schnauzer III and he pretty much runs the place. He’ll probably eat your underpants, but that’s a sign of love and affection. He also attacks anything/anyone that comes near me. But don’t worry! He hasn’t killed anyone…yet (smiley face)

Step 5: What you Bring to a Relationship
This is where I’m supposed to ‘sell’ myself. I tried my hardest:

I’m the most loyal person that has ever existed. (Unless you touch my feet *hee hee giggle giggle*) I’m not very emotionally stable before 10 am and pretty much anything could push me over the edge, but after that I am rock solid! Just like a statue who doesn’t have emotions. I didn’t even cry at Marley and Me. (some might say I’m emotionally numb inside!) And I don’t really enjoy physical contact, but I’m the best darn high-fiver.

I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I believe in love after enough forced time together!

Step 6: Thinking About the Qualities You Want in the Person You Date
I was supposed to write out a list again. Didn’t do it. But I went ahead and skipped to writing the paragraph:

What I’m looking for is a nice, even-tempered man who is brawny, has the jaw of a superhero, and can grow a 5 o’clock shadow on whim. A hockey player would be ideal, preferably a nice Canadian fellow. He must have flowing locks and eyes as blue as the ocean. He doesn’t care if I cocoon myself into all the blankets at night to leave him shivering in the cold. Also he must be willing to sleep on the floor, as Wallace T. Schnauzer sleeps on the other side of my bed. A nice Canadian, who allows me to yell at the TV when watching sports, (and maybe even throw some things if necessary) that’s really all I need! If this Canadian man sounds like you, feel free to contact me!

Have a lovely day!

That’s all there is to it. Now I have myself an online dating profile. It talks about how great I am and outlines exactly what I’m looking for. I personally think I did a really fantastic job. (I should add my incredible humility to my paragraph about what I bring to relationships)

I guess I’ll just post this to all the online dating websites I can find. Surely there’s a nice Canadian hockey player out there who likes neurotic females that don’t enjoy physical contact. I just know he’s out there!

And if this doesn’t get me a man, I give up. I’ll just become a spinster.

Hey Shea Weber! You're Canadian. Let's marry?

*No I haven’t. I’m going to just continue being adorable and hoping for the best.

Amanda, The Country Music Star: Second Try

A couple days ago I decided to write a country song. It was a near disaster. I tried my darnedest, but, man I don’t know how to rhyme. So since I’m currently unemployed and stuff, I spent way too much time just now making the song rhyme better. I’m really not joking either. I used a rhyming dictionary and even googled song rhyming schemes. I really, really, need a job you guys.

However I think with all my extra effort I have pushed this song to another level now. Maybe even platinum record level. Because, you know, I’ve mentioned booze, Jesus, farming, daddy, mama, rain, a church. There’s heartbreak and then the heartbreak is fixed and marriage occurs. I removed the mention of pig farmers, because that was just weird. What else does a country song need? I mean really.

I’m feeling good about my second draft. You can find the first draft here, if you need a reference to how this terrible song can be better than the previous one.

Bobby Ray and Me
*any similarities to real life situations or people are purely coincidental, as I know absolutely no one named Bobby Ray.

“Bobby Ray had his eyes peeled,
Drivin’ in the corn field.
Daddy tried to warn me about him,
But I had to act upon that whim.

He was drinkin’ Sasparilla with, Little Joe.
I knew it was love, who-o-o-a!
They knew he’d break my heart that day,
He’s a wandering dog, they’d say.
But who’d guess he’d wander right to me.
I guess I like his smell too much to stray.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

Well Bobby Ray broke my heart,
I guess I weren’t that smart.
A bottle of Jack my only friend
Not even my dog could pretend,
I was ok.
I’d begun to stray.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

I walked into the country church,
Nestled under the Silver Birch.
And I found Jesus.
I dropped the bottle that day.
There’s no way I could delay,
I started to frolic,
I was no longer alcoholic!

I love you Bobby Ray,
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

I saw him walking in the rain,
to his mama’s house on main.
He said, ‘I’m sorry, I tried to warn you,
Of what I’d put you through,
I’m a wandering dog, you can’t tie me down.
But because of you, I can’t skip town.’
I said, thanks for breaking my heart,
I’ve been falling apart.
Bobby Ray got down on one knee
And then he said, I’d like for you to be.
My love come true.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville.

Well whod’ve guessed.
We’d be married today!

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
In my heart.”

That was a little better huh?

I’m probably still going to send it to Taylor Swift. (Mainly because I don’t think she really reads lyrics before she agrees to sing them. Have you guys heard her songs?? They don’t even make sense. And all she does is whine in them. But that’s a digression.)

Mean (song)

See. Taylor Swift is a weirdie.

Amanda, The Country Music Star

English: American country musician Brad Paisley.

Image via Wikipedia

I haven’t always been a country music fan. (Or maybe I have I just wouldn’t admit it if I was asked) But since moving to Nashville, it’s basically the only thing they have. Just country music.

Everywhere. Walk outside and there’s always a faint honky tonk in the wind. (this is a lie) Every person I walk by is singing/whistling/humming the newest Dolly Parton hit (this is also a lie).

Basically, what I’m saying is, if I want a career, I have to become a country music star. Unfortunately I don’t know how to play guitar, or sing, or wear a cowboy hat appropriately. So obviously my only other option is to write hit songs for the likes of Taylor Swift and Brad Paisley to sing.

Here’s my first try at a country song. Let me know what you guys think.

Bobby Ray and Me
*any similarities to real life situations or people are purely coincidental, as I know absolutely no one named Bobby Ray, nor have I ever been in a corn field with pig farmers

“I met him in the corn field. He was ridin’ on his tractor.
I can still smell the pig farm on him.
He was drinkin’ Sasparilla with his bud, Little Joe.
I knew it was love, right when I smelled him
The pig farmers tried to warn me,
They knew he’d break my heart that day.
He’s a wandering dog, they’d say.
But who’d guess he’d wander right to me.
I guess I like his smell too much to say…goodbye.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

Well Bobby Ray broke my heart,
A bottle of Jack became my only friend
Not even my dog could make me,
I was getting worse everyday.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

Last week I reached rock bottom.
I walked into the country church,
And I found Jesus
I dropped that bottle right there that day.
Bobby Ray ran me right into Jesus’ arms
I’m not an alcoholic,

I love you Bobby Ray,
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

I saw him the other day at his mama’s house.
I remember what he said to me there
He said, I’m sorry, I tried to warn you,
I’m a wandering dog, you can’t tie me down.
I said, thanks for breaking my heart,
But I still love you….and your smell.
And then he said, he loved me too.
I guess I knew that smell, was love come true.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
It’s raining here in Nashville
But only in my heart.

Well whod’ve guess.
That smell of pigs,
Would draw me to him.

I love you, Bobby Ray.
I love you.
In my heart.
And I love, your smell”

This is obviously the perfect country song. I mentioned love, heartbreak, then love again, a tractor, a dog, rain, stars, Nashville, someone named Bobby Ray, Little Joe and a mama. As I wrote it I thought all the words in a nasally voice. I touched on every ingredient for a hit country song. Everyone can relate to it. I’m sure of it.

Sure it needs a little tweaking. This is just the first draft. The rhythm is all off, the lyrics are incredibly stupid and don’t make any sense, but otherwise it’s a Grammy award winner. I’ll work on it some more tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even break out the old rhyming dictionary.

Actually no, I’ll probably just go ahead and mail it like this to Taylor Swift tomorrow. She’ll sing pretty much anything.

(Thanks to Edrevets for pointing out my serious neglect of Jesus and alcohol in this country western song. As for the rest of you…well I’m mad at all of you for not letting me know I had failed so terribly.)