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I listen to country music. But only when severely depressed.


I know.

I think the exact same thing.

I publicly ridicule country music. My publicly viewed music collection is eclectic, but conspicuously devoid of country music. That is all quietly hidden away from the prying eyes of the public. With my vodka and cigarettes.

Now, even when I DO listen to it, it is NOT George Jones, The Charlie Daniels Band and Lynard Skinner. It leans more towards the sappy, pathetic genre of those who are overly indulgent in happiness. And it is only after I have exhausted all my Andrea Bocelli, Norah Jones, Michael Buble and Chris Botti.

It is with shame that I admit a low enough point can be reached and I will listen to it. There will be those of you who will think less of me for my listening habits, but if I were you, I would be a little more worried about the vodka. I don't know if I will be able to handle all this rejection, being depressed and all.

I will save the sharing of my cocaine habit for another day.

3 Responses to “Confession”

  1. Blogger Just another American Expat 

    I don't believe I've ever heard Lynard Skynard referred to as "country". I mean..ok...they sing about sweet home Alabama and all that, but I believe the correct genre would be “Southern Rock”.

    Please don’t tell me that you have a problem with Southern Rock. It would just crush me. In fact, I feel tears coming right now.

    I think I need to grab that half full bottle of Jack Danials off the shelf and go listen to some...Conway Twitty. Ya know...when Conway used to sing, he could melt the panties off the Statue of Liberty.

  2. Blogger Porkchop 

    I do believe Southern Rock can be classified as country... At least, it carries the same stigmas.

    Since I live in a blue state, it is just now that I have come out of the closet regarding my lesser music tastes.

    I don't think most people would have a problem with the crack.

  3. Blogger QOS 

    You know when there's those nights that you don't remember? If you turn on your car in the morning and skynard is playing, you know it was a good night.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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