I live in a perfectly average house in a perfectly average subdivision. My taste in home decor runs more toward contemporary. I dress perfectly nondescriptly and drive (most days I can't take the Mustang out because of, ya know, weather and stuff) a middle of the road SUV - black of course. Although gravy and biscuits, beans and cornbread, and mashed potatoes and meatloaf are in my top five favorite food groups, I almost never cook or eat them, because they make me fat.
People who don't really know me would never, ever, ever guess that there is a raging redneck lurking just below the surface.
There is no place this is quite as apparent as it is when it comes to my taste in music. Yo can take the girl out of the country...
Recently during one of our marathon texting conversations, I was telling my friend Natalie about a concert I went to several years ago. Her reply? "Sometimes I forget just how redneck you are until you say things like 'Ted Nugent in concert' to me."
See? Mostly, I hide it well.
I like to crank up Pandora when I'm cleaning house and folding laundry and such, and last week I realized that cj, while still somewhat unclear on the ABC song, can belt out both verse and chorus to Coal Miner's Daughter, every single time.
I'm so proud.
Rj's taste in music is not, ummm, terribly compatible with mine. He prefers alternative, pop, rock, and music sung cheerfully about terribly depressing topics. Also, until he met me, he believed that John Denver was a country singer.
But he's very accommodating of my musical tastes. Over the years, he's endured concerts like Kris Kristofferson and Waylon Jennings, The Oak Ridge Boys, Toby Keith and Ted Nugent, Alison Krauss, Willie Nelson at least a half a dozen times, and last year he paid an exorbitant amount of money so I could see Loretta Lynn in concert at The Louisville Palace.
He's a good egg, that one.
Most people who know me causally would never guess my dirty little secret, unless they catch me humming a George Jones song under my breath, and even then I'm usually safe, because no one can identify it. "What's that song?" they ask, cocking their heads sideways in an attempt to remember. "Oh, something by Adele, I think. I heard it on the radio last week," I blatantly lie.
It's not that I'm ASHAMED of my musical tastes, exactly...
I prefer to think of it as one of the
Anyway, when I started this post, it had a point of some sort, but since I can't seem to remember what that point is, I'll just leave you with this, the best thing my man Willie has done in a while:
Some of you may recognize this as a Coldplay song. Um, not any more.