Oh No She Didn't

Two words strike fear into my country music loving heart: Carrie. Underwood.

That's right. She is the personification of everything I don't want country music to be. Her song "Before He Cheats" was promising, but then she sucked it all back down into the sugary sweet sappiness that is her music.

One of my favorite David Allen Coe songs mentions how to write the perfect country western song, but you need to have momma, or trains, or trucks, or prison or gettin' drunk in it. He then went on to sing a verse about being drunk the day his momma got out of prison, how he went to pick her up in the rain, driving his pick up truck, but she got run over by a train.

Now if that ain't country....
Carrie Underwood's first song had what I'd like to say is the perfect makings of a number one hit for the sheeple. "Jesus Take the Wheel" mentions momma and daddy, a baby, poor decisions, and that hit maker, Jesus. As soon as I heard the first verse of that gag inducing song, I thought, crap. She's got a hit. People are going to love this.

And they did. And it was. And now she has done something that goes beyond all belief. She has gone and remade the Randy Travis hit, "I Told You So."

Why? Why would she take one of the greatest songs of all time by a country singer who was the first country music act in history to achieve multi-platinum status, and try to sing it? She has only made it truly cringe worthy. I can't even listen to it.

And don't tell me it's a form of flattery. No. Randy Travis can be emulated by artists covering his songs in about 75 years....when no one can remember the shivers they got the first time they heard him sing. He helped bring back a vintage sound to country music that was much missed, and he paved the ways for guys like Alan Jackson to come along.

In other words, Randy Travis is freaking awesome.
All though, in my research, I did find out that Randy Travis gave Carrie her invitation to the Grand Ole Opry and said she did a better job than he did singing "I Told You So." Huh. Well, to each his own I guess.

Next thing we know, Carrie Underwood will be singing "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" or "Ring of Fire" or worse, "Hello Darling." Some things in country music should be sacred and never messed with.

Unless it's Kelly Pickler covering a song. She's all right.

Confession Of The Month

I cut my own bangs.

Whew! What a relief to say that and not hide behind excuses!

When I go to get my hair cut, the stylist always asks if I cut my bangs. I usually have some lame, wishy-washy, hemming and hawing, before I say something along the lines of, "I did trim a bit a few weeks ago....."

Truth is I hate getting my hair cut. I tell a funny story (funny to me, but maybe not to my Mom!!) about how I trace my hatred of hair cuts to my Mom cutting my bangs, accidentally cutting my eyelid, and saying, "hold still, I'm almost done." That's not really the reason, but it makes people laugh, and as I have recently admitted, I lie all the time.

I hate sitting in that chair, forced to chit chat, while some one I do not know puts their hands on my person! I don't like how close the stylist gets, I hate it when a boob accidentally grazes me, and I have an old childhood fear of lice. Duh, stylists are super clean and they aren't going to give me lice, but if you grew up in the 70's and 80's you might remember the constant lectures about not letting people touch your hair, or share your comb or hats....it's carried over to being an adult and I shudder any time I see kids touching each other's hair.

So, I hardly ever get my hair cut. That means I either have to grow my bangs out, and frankly my forehead isn't made for that look, or I have to cut my own bangs.

I'm not saying I'm good at it. I'm just saying I cut them, and I'm not going to lie about it.

At least, I won't lie about it right now. My next hair cut is an entirely different story!

Superbowl Resolutions

Once again I've attended a Superbowl party. Once again, I'm not sure how this happened. I don't even understand the rules of football, let alone, seriously enjoy a game! Regardless, this is becoming a tradition so I've come up with a few resolutions to follow from now on.

1. I will not pack a bag of things to do, like a book to read or photo's to crop. I never do any of it. Mind you, I'm not engrossed in the game, I'm just talking with my Mom and sisters. But I never do any of the boredom busting things I've packed, so officially, it is a waste of time to pack it in the first place.

2. I will be more aware of what I eat. I won't bring my food journal, or maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea, and I won't bring my food scale, but I will stop grazing at the snack table. I will still eat the chips and the cookies and the pizza dip, but I will put it on the plate so I can see what I'm eating! I'm still feeling sick the morning after.

3. I will pay more attention to the TV because I missed some of my favorite parts of Superbowl Sunday: the commercials! I had to go online and see Conan O'Brien in a way I'm not sure anyone should have ever seen him. My favorite commercial was the one for pet adoption: the old lady chasing her pet ostrich, saying "bad bird" was so funny. And frankly, everyone should have a dog. It would make the world a better place!

4. I will try to know who is playing in the Superbowl before I actually arrive at the party. It's as simple as looking online, but I just had a vague idea of it being Arizona and another team. And on the morning after, I will remember who won....all I can say right now is, the other team won! They wore yellow and white uniforms and that's all I know.

I do not go to the Superbowl party because I am a fan of football. I go because I am a fan of family and fun and food, and I get all those things in loads! Laughing with my sisters, eating my Mom's yummy food, watching my little nephews be silly and my own kids be the cool big cousins....that's the Superbowl party for me.

I Am A Lotion Junkie

I don't know how it happened. One day I was in my 20's and buying the cheap store brand lotion and just using it on a less than religious bases. Now I'm in my 30's and I've got so many bottles of lotion on my nightstand and vanity, it makes my husband laugh.

It wasn't a conscious thing. I'm not even buying ones that fight the good fight against age and wrinkles.

I'm just buying lotion because every time I see an add or a commercial for dry skin, I think, 'that looks interesting.' It's like I'm on a permanent quest to find the best, most lotiony lotion, and I must try every brand there is.

I clip every coupon for lotion that I see, so my beauty section of my coupon holder is bursting with tiny squares of paper. I can stand in the lotion aisle of the commissary with several different brand name coupons in my hands, while I debate the choices. Go with the cheapest after the coupon? Go with the one that promises to quench thirsty skin? Or how about the one that is unscented, since I worry about getting a headache from something too perfumey?

I will also try anyone elses lotion. So if you leave it unguarded in your bathroom or on your office desk, I'm going to try it. That has once led me to try a lotion that actually turned out to be a fancy hand soap, but I washed my hands twice....that's not a bad thing in the bathroom.

I currently have four different lotions in use: two different kinds of Lubriderm (one on permanent kitchen duty), a body butter by Arbonne (in two different scents: vivacious and flirtatious), Oil of Olay for my face, and a very nice Working Hands for my, well, hands! If you count my sparkly body balm, it actually makes five. That is not counting the ones I've tried, but haven't finished by the time the urge to buy a new brand hits me, that still sit on my vanity gathering dust.

Five lotions I use every day.

But you know what? I must be doing something right because I am 34 and I just got seriously carded last week when I ordered a Margarita. The server gave my ID a close scrutiny, doing a double take at me and the picture of me.

Now that is totally worth being a lotion junkie!

Side note, has any tried the new Gold Bond lotions? I have a coupon....

Blanket Man

I am always a bit freaked out when I walk so early, and it's dark and worse, foggy. Especially, if it's so cold I have to pull my two sweat shirt hoods over my head, to keep my ears from freezing, but that muffles anything I might be able to hear coming up behind me.

So Emma, Sarah and I are walking on a long straight stretch of sidewalk. I can see ahead of us a lumpy thing. At first I thought it was one of those construction diamond signs, standing up, but then I realized it was something walking.

Now I say something, because it very much reminded me of some kind of creature you'd see if you watched Labyrinth. At that moment, Emma jumps about a foot and turns backwards to stand at attention. I stop walking, look, see nothing, but hear the sound that freaked her (and Sarah too) out....someone was scrapping their car window.

Keep walking towards the lump. It keeps walking towards me. How to handle this politely? In the dark, it could easily be a fat lady, bundled up, trying to exercise. Or it could be a crazy guy wrapped up in a blanket, from head to knee, yelling at passing cars.

I guess we're going to go with the second option.

I got all the way off the sidewalk and walked in the road a block before we even had to, with my don't mess with me face on, and this is why I love my dogs, both stayed in the grass as we walked, keeping themselves between me and the blanket man, and they were very menacing, stiff legged, fur up, Emma was doing her growling woof thing and Sarah was backing her up with a mean dog stare.

And wouldn't you know it, the crazy guy decided not to yell stuff at us. He just kept going, but I could tell he was staring at us, not because I could see his face (that was too much in the shadows of his blanket cape) but because the blank spot where his face would be was turning to watch us.. We picked up our pace, even Emma was racing ahead, to get away from him, and to get home.

I kept my eye out for him when we got closer to home, but I didn't see him, until I was walking in the alley and heard him start yelling again. He was crossing the street towards downtown, just across the road from our house, and I forced both dogs into the house and locked the door behind me. Some crazies are harmless, but some give off a bad vibe, and I am a firm believer in trusting your vibes. He gave off a bad vibe. He's long gone, didn't even glance at us again, but it was still very unsettling.

I miss day light!

Sarah Keep Your Pants On!

I just uttered a sentence I thought I would never say, ever. Sarah is our darling 7 month old puppy, who is getting spayed February3rd....and who has decided now would be a perfect time to go into heat.

Yep.

And I've been hoping it would not be too messy. And when I came home from work and saw that it was getting messy I did what anyone else would do. I took a pair of my daughters too small underwear, cut a whole for Sarah's tail, cut the sides so I could tie them on like diapers, and voila, Sarah had a pair of red pants.

She wore them for quite a few hours, and I was thinking this might work. My furniture might be safe.

Until she discovered she could chew on a knot and untie it. I put them back on. She started to do somersaults and insane back wiggles to get them off again.

And that is when I said it. "Sarah keep your pants on!!"

Being a dog, and very much like a child, she went into the kitchen where I couldn't see her, and took them off anyway.

She did look insanely silly. Insanely. Notice the crazy in her eyes.

I guess it could just be the doggy PMS, but I think it's the indignity of having to wear hand me down underwear, out in public. And people, ahem, Grandma K, laughed at her!

I haven't had the heart to wrestle her back into them. I'm just going to cover all the furniture with old sheets and we will all be much happier. With less crazy eyes I'm sure!

Six Little Words

I just read a challenge I can't refuse: express your love in six words.

I immediately thought of my sentence. I had a moment of doubt because as I was counting the words in my head, I realized I have been playing the DS Brain Age game too much and was actually counting the syllables instead. BTW, I rock at the syllable counting test and my brain age is 20!

Love can all be boiled down to this simple idea for me:

My heart's desire: Him, Kids, Beagles.