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.]

Where’s My Big Break?!?

I’d like to be a millionaire. I’m not shy about this. I’ve been waiting almost 23 years for my big break into stardom. And as of now…nada. No one has discovered me in a shopping mall. No one has seen me on the street and offered me a million dollar contract. It’s just not happening like I’ve been lead to believe by many a sitcom. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to take things into my own hands.

Unfortunately I don’t have many skills to offer the world. But the few I do possess are incredible. And I am really good at them.

I rock a super mean cardigan.
I am serious about this. I rock the layered look. In fact it was 75 degrees today in Nashville. I still threw on a cardigan. Why? Well because of a little thing callled fashion. Fashion trumps temperature. I’ll take a heat stroke before I give up my talent for wearing a cardigan.

I've got one just like this!

I can name the nationalities of all the Nashville Predators.
This doesn’t seem like a very useful ability. And I’ll be honest, it has served no purpose for my life thus far. I’ve used to prove people wrong. That’s about it. But Finland and Sweden are not the same place. The world needs to know this.

Good old fashioned hockey hug between a Belarusian and a Canadian.

I’m really good at paper plate crafts.
Need a lion? Done. Fish? No problem. Kite? Absolutely! Mickey Mouse head band? For sure! Give me anything and I’ll make it out of a paper plate. My number one medium for crafts in my classroom at work is paper plates. So ya, I’m pretty good at paper plates.

What an adorable paper plate penguin

I know all the lyrics to Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey.
I’m sure this skill will serve me well someday in a karaoke contest. As of now all it provides me with is the ability to annoy those around me, and maybe even lose friends. So that’s nice.

I’m really good at jumping on bandwagons.
Recently the Nashville Predators had a prodigal son moment with the return of Alexander Radulov from the KHL. I had no knowledge about him yet I have welcomed him back with open arms as if he were my long lost lover. I don’t even know if he’s good at hockey. I’ve heard he is, but I don’t know from personal experience. But you know what? I love him, because i have jumped on the A-Rad bandwagon and I’m perfectly happy here.

Alexander RADULOV (Russia) - 7536

There he is. My new favorite Russian.

So if you guys know any talent scouts who are looking for someone who can sing like an angel, wear a fashionable sweater, point them to the nearest Czechoslovakian, and make a paper plate alien all while keeping up with the most popular things of today and abandoning those of yesterday, go ahead and send them my way.

Until then I’ll just be sitting here waiting to be discovered by a stranger from Hollywood. Then I will become a millionaire. Don’t worry, you guys can say you knew me before I was famous, I won’t forget the little people!

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!

You Don’t Suck and it’s Not Really all Your Fault

Vancouver Canucks goaltender Roberto Luongo du...

Image via Wikipedia

To Ryan Miller, Roberto Luongo, Annti Niemi, Jaroslav Halak and every other NHL goaltender that I have taunted,

Hey there fellas!

As I’m sure you are aware, coming into the Bridgestone Arena to play the Nashville Predators can be a frightening experience for your visiting teams. Apparently Ken Hitchcock of the St. Louis Blues even said, “You’re not going to beat Nashville in Nashville on Saturday night. This is like the Coliseum in Rome, coming into this place on a Saturday night.” I’m not going to lie to you, he’s right. The crowd is not welcoming in the least and you are told many, many times, that you suck.

I know you’ve heard the friendly little chant that happens when your team lineups are announced. You know, the one where after every name the entire arena shouts, “SUCKS!” Obviously this is a lot on the rude side as you don’t really suck. You’ve made it all the way to the NHL. That’s a pretty big thing and you don’t get there by sucking. This is clearly an irrational thing for a large crowd to shout at you.

And to top it all off, you are all goalies so you get the blame for everything. Every time the Predators score on one of you, the crowd makes sure to tell you how much you suck. It goes a lot like this, “Nah na na na nah HEY YOU SUCK!!” I don’t really know why they do this. Sure, you let a goal in, but you’re supposed to have defenders helping you. Obviously if they let a puck get by them, they also suck. And no one yells at the defenders about how bad they are. It’s not fair guys, not fair at all.

After that happy little song, the crowd makes sure to chant your last names long and slow like this, “LUUUOOONGOOO, LUUUOOONNGOOO” followed by, “YOU SUCK. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!” That doesn’t seem right. It’s not really all your fault. It’s a team game. Your team apparently didn’t help you much if the Predators were able to score. If I were you guys, I’d be pretty upset about how this plays out for you.

Now I’m not proud to admit this, but I have shouted “Hey, You SUCK!!” many, many times along with the crowd. I even chanted about it being all your fault last night, Neimi. I’m sorry about that. I got swept up in the crowd and atmosphere and it just sort of slipped out. Ok, it didn’t slip out, I yelled, that’s not a slip. But again, I’m not proud of myself.

I’d like to try to make up for this. So I have several options that I’ll let you choose from as retribution for me telling you that you suck.

Option #1: When the Predators score I’ll slowly chant the name of every player, of the opposing team, then proceed to “It’s all your fault”. That way the blame is not just placed on you. You and your team have solidarity in your suckiness.

Option #2: When your teams score on Pekka Rinne I can shout, “Hey, You Suck!” at him as well. That way I’m acknowledging the fact that the Predators also make mistakes and allow goals to be scored. (I’m not a fan of this idea and I’m not sure those words can physically come out of my mouth in reference to Pekka. I sort of love him too much to allow that to happen. So don’t choose this option, ok?)

Option #3: I don’t shout “You suck!” at anyone. I only shout happy uplifting things, like “THAT WAS A SPECTACULAR TRY THERE, RYAN MILLER!! YOU DID YOUR BEST! MAYBE NEXT TIME!!!” In this option, everyone is a winner. I make everyone feel good about themselves, even when the other team scores.

I’ll let you discuss amongst yourselves which is the best option. Let me know what you decide and at the next home game I attend I will put it into practice. If I shout loud enough I’m sure I can change the attitudes of everyone around me.

We’ll stop giving you guys all the blame soon. We will. Because you don’t really suck and it’s not really all your fault.


PS: Again, real sorry about shouting of “YOU SUCK!” It’s just not nice. Please don’t hate me. I don’t like to be hated. Plus if Shea Weber hears about my shouting problem he’ll never marry me. I don’t want that to happen. So let’s keep this between us, ok?

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.)

Hockey Confession

To whom it may concern:

I’ve never been a big sports ‘fanatic’, if you will.  I enjoy seeing them live and in person. I also enjoy looking at some of the players (so sue me, I’m a girl, it’s what I do)

Growing up in Kansas City all I had in the departments of sports was Royals baseball and Chiefs football. These are not great franchises (that’s right, I know what that means) when it comes to winning. But nonetheless its what I was given so I was a Royals fan. They lost…a lot. I still cheered for them. (but realistically I cheered for whoever I wanted to become my husband that season) Then soemthing terrible happened, I moved to Nashville, I no longer had the Royals.

This is when I began to have a problem. They have a minor league baseball team, the Nashville Sounds, but no MLB team. What’s a girl to do? Well she tries to find an appropriate substitute and goes to a Nashville Predators hockey game. I didn’t just wander into any regular game. I went to the home opener. People freaking love hockey here (and Vince Gill, but that’s not important). It was loud and overwhelming and magical. I was skeptical about this first NHL experience. I didn’t know who any of the players were and I did not know how the game worked except that the point was to get the puck in the other teams net. I’d been to a hockey game a time or two when the Kansas City Blades existed but I was just a little tike and didn’t really pay attention to anything. As I sat there among these very devoted fans, I discovered the beauty of this game we call hockey. THERE ARE ESSENTIALLY NO RULES!!!! Are. You. KIDDING. Me? You can just shove people into walls or hit them with your stick*, then when you’re done beating people you can just spit on the ice and NO ONE cares.  When they announce the other teams line up you shout “SUCKS!” after every name, when the other team scores you shout “YOU SUCK!” In what other social setting is this acceptible? NONE social settings! This was a beautiful, beautiful sport and I was hooked…immediately.

I started doing research and learning the rules and about all the players and what it takes to get sent to the time out box.** I even watched the games on tv….by myself (I never do this…with any sport no matter who is playing). This is where I began to realize I had a problem.

I, Amanda D. Badley, am obsessed with hockey.

I can tell you who each player is, whether they’re Canadian, American, Swiss, Russian, Swedish, or any other nationality. I can quote statistics! I stood in line for an hour to get autographs from  Sergei Kostitisyn*** and Nick Spaling***. I almost pooped myself because I got to see them in real life. I saw Jordin Tootoo*** at Opryland and again, almost pooped my pants. I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME. I’M OUT OF CONTROL.

I don’t want help with this problem however. I DON’T, so don’t try and hold an intervention, cause I’ll just hockey fight you right there, then hip check you right into the wall and spit, right there on the floor, cause that’s how it’s done in Nashville.



*Since this initial experience I have learned if these actions are done with extreme violence penalties are given. But really you can basically just ram people into things.

**So maybe its really called a penalty box but let’s be realistic, when they’re in it they are in timeout.

***These are names of hockey players, that 3 months ago I would not have cared about nor would I have recognized them.