Posts from the ‘The Occasional Rant’ Category

A Plea To Miranda and Hilary

I gripe often about the current state of Country Music. So much so, I know it’s quite redundant and it makes me sound like I might possibly be running low on my Geritol.  Brace yourselves…for I am about to embark on a positive pontification about a couple of current Country Music people. This doesn’t happen often, nor can I predict when it will happen again. Soak it up, y’all.

I actually LIKE Miranda Lambert. There, I said it. She writes her own songs and chooses songs that have substance, a good beat and are easy to dance to. She can play a guitar. She’s from Texas.  She can harmonize. (Not everybody can. This brings large points with me from any singer)

I looove that Little White Liar song she sings. There’s some other song I’ve heard of hers that I can recall its title at the moment but I like it. I LOVE “The House That Built Me.” First time I heard it, which was not long after my mother died, I proceeded to burst into controllable tears and sobbing.

Admittedly, I have an issue with Miranda and Sheryl Crow singing with my Loretty on “Coal Miner’s Daughter”, namely because she doesn’t say “In the summertime we didn’t have shoes to waaaaaar; but in the wintertime, we’d all get a brand new paaaaaaar” like it was intended by the Good Lord to be done. (I am saying this in the same tone Loretty tells Doo in the movie that “You don’t put no salt in chocolate pie…you jess put shigger”)

Songs like “Coal Miner’s Daughter” should not be sung by anyone who is not the offspring of a coal miner.

Now, Patty Loveless was a Coal Miner’s Daughter as obviously was Loretta’s sisters Crystal Gayle and Peggy (PAIG-gy) Sue.   The kids of all those Chilean miners could sing it and I would be tickled! 

I have come to terms with Miranda and Sheryl singing on Coal Miner’s Daughter just because Loretta wanted them to sing it. That’s that.

Anyhoo, back to the newly crowned CMA Vocalist of the Year-Miranda is a beautiful young woman. One of the things that makes her so gorgeous to me is she is not anorexic like her pal here and looks like she’s eaten this week.  You can’t count the bones in her shoulder area. She looks healthy.

Her pal here looks pale and perhaps a little dehydrated. Somebody give Taylor some beans and cornbread!!! Stat!

Look at the gorgeous Hilary Scott of Lady Antebellum, who I ALSO like.

Something about Hilary that stands out is she is a brunette! She has curves. She can sing. Why she thinks she needs those other two guys to have a career, I do not know. 

I implore both Miranda and Hilary…please, PLEASE do not destroy your faces with plastic surgery.  And regardless of what your likely overweight publicists/handlers may try to tell you, you do not need to lose weight.  Even ol’ Reba is starting to get that scary, Mary Tyler Moore-look. Just don’t do it. Reba needed a little help. You girls do NOT. 

I did not watch the awards at all last night. I purposely skipped them. I realized late last night why I really didn’t have a desire to watch and it wasn’t because I feared upchucking over the off-key singing I knew I would hear.

Reason I didn’t want to watch was I knew I wouldn’t get multiple phone calls from Mom saying how much she misses Ernest Tubb and asking why that Sugarland girl kept showing her armpits.


You Call This A Storm???

I still don’t have a job yet.   People ask “Have you done this?” “Have you thought about …that?”  Yes, I’ve thought about all of it.  Done just about all of it.  I’m trying to keep my good humor and positive attitude about the whole thing and for the most part, that is ok.   BUT…there are moments.

I had an interview scheduled today with an agency Downtown.  The ONLY call I’ve had for an interview.  Out 15 jillion applications, resumes, etc.  ONE call.  Ok no…thats a lie.  I had a phone interview with a company the other day and apparently, my charm and professionalism must not have oozed through the phone cause they passed on me.  This was the first In Person interview I’ve been called for.

Let me talk fashion here for a second.  I am not a dress up kinda gal.  I don’t give a flip about shopping or style.  I probably should put more effort into the whole style/image thing but eh.  Not into it. 

I worked at the same place for 10 years.  It was not a “dress up” kinda workplace.  We weren’t allowed to wear jeans to work (even on Fridays) and like a lot of other workplaces, if you ever did wear a skirt you would get the obvious “Have you got an interview?”  or my favorite line to people was “Who died?”  (Dressed up for funerals, etc) 

Even at church anymore, we don’t dress up.  When I was a kid, it was unthinkable to wear pants to church on a Sunday morning.  Sunday night was ok, but, Sunday morning???  Never.  It was just not “fittin'” to do that.  If it was REALLY cold or something and even then, there was a feeling of being a real rebel.  

So, with this jobless state I’m in, the question of “What Am I Gonna Wear” surfaced.  Now, money is tight being that I’m unemployed.    The Children’s Father has been absolutely fantastic through this whole thing and I’m quite appreciative of how good he has been about it.  We have a good relationship and it’s the kinda thing where if the situation was reversed, I would be as helpful to him as he’s been to me.  I don’t know why I’m telling that but I get asked that a lot so there’s your answer. 

I have one business-y like suit-sorta thing that is right nice looking.  I never wear it.  I’ve not had to have stuff like that and when it comes to spending money, specially on clothes, I’m not gonna spend it on stuff I don’t need. (Yes, I know…lesson learned…you should always have something like that.)

So I was scheduled for this interview today at 2.  I even went and bought pantyhose for the occasion. 

I have to insert here that I am having an issue with my main Gmail account.  I can’t get into it.  I changed the password and couldn’t get in.  I guess I tried to many times and it locked it out for 5 days.  The secondary email I had on the account was at my old work (as in where I was first laid off from in 06) and because of Security issues, I have to wait 5 days before I can get into the account to get my dang Secret Question. 

The place I was interviewing with apparently goes by a different name in the phone listing because I couldn’t find a number for them in Information.   This is an important part of the story.  Just remember, I didn’t have a contact phone number cause it’s in the Gmail I can’t get into.

So, I come back to get ready to go for this interview.  I put the pants on with this thing (haven’t worn it in awhile).  I’m primping in the mirror and notice the fly is open and I hollered “NO WAY”. 

The zipper broke.  It was not the kinda thing where it coulda been hidden either. 

I lost it.  I mean….totally, melted down, lost it, was cussing the zipper, cussing God, cussing being laid off, cussing myself for buying that stupid car, crying so hard I was near the point of hyperventilating.  Why in the world can something not open to give me a break?  You can probably visualize the whole scene.  I was telling God “Ya know…I’ve busted my rear end all these years trying to do what’s “right” …trying to please You, others in my life, I’ve been “good” …oh I went on and on.  (I imagine my Stay At Home Mom neighbor next door got an earful.  God knows I can hear EVERYTHING that goes on in that unit. I’m sure she heard my Jacob-Like Wrestling with God showdown going on. Heh)

I told God I needed a little something to remind me that He was still interested cause I was about to go all Lieutenant Dan on Him….you know that part in Forest Gump when he hollers “You call this a storm??”  I was mad.  All because my zipper broke.  But, I could not go into this place with a busted zipper hoping they’d place me.  What was I gonna do?  I couldn’t just not show up at the interview but I had no contact phone number.

So, I’m still crying and fussing and just mad.  This was about 1:35.  Interview was at 2. 

Phone rings.

This lovely, Australian/New Zealandish accent tells me the lady I was to interview with today had some sort of “Personal Business” to deal with and could I possibly reschedule. 

“Why yes” I said to the Charming Australian Guy on the phone…”That would be simply looove-ly.”  So maybe I didn’t say it exactly like that but I think my glee at the fact that they needed to reshedyool me was more than obvious. 

So yeah…He’s listening.  And He’s interested.  And I think God is ok with us saying “What the ??????”  at Him.

As For Brokeback Mountain…

I loved it.

I’ve had some interesting comments from some of my Bretheren and Sisteren in Jesus on the subject but to that I say psssshhhht….get over yourselves. 

Anybody who has ever loved somebody intensely (gay, straight, whatever) and varying circumstances prevent you from being with that person….it hits home.

 Once again, I must climb aboard my soapbox and say, yes, I know what the B-I-B-L-E says about that whole subject.  I’m good with it.  I also know that the Good Book has  plenty else to say about sins of all sorts and that Jesus especially got aggravated at Pharisee types. 

Plus, Jake Gyllenhaal  and Heath Ledger are just plain pleasant to watch herding sheep whilst wearing cowboy boots and stuff.  I still don’t get why they gave Ennis a Southern accent cause last I checked, Wyoming isn’t in the South, but, that’s just me. 

How tragic is it that Heath Ledger isn’t around anymore?  Very tragic.  Goodness.

Quit It

I don’t give a rats behind that Sarah Palin’s teenage dawta is pregnant.  I mean, as a mom of teenagers, I think I’d shit and fall back in it if that was my kid so on that level, I give something of a rats behind.  Just shows to go ya that even rich girls named “Bristol” can get caught. 

The thing about the whole thing that drives me insane is that people are saying “Sarah Palin’s daughter is PREGGERS.” 

There should be a law against using that word.  I hate that word about as much as I hate “Turkey Day” , “Thunderboomers” and “Yeppers.”  Ack.

Knocked up sounds much more dignified, doesn’t it?

Fermez Votre Japper

I have this co-worker who talks about nothing but her son.  Her son who is the same age as my son.  Her son…we’ll call him Colin (that aint his name) and my Manchild actually know each other.  I’m not gonna say how cause somebody will be trying to piece it together.

Anyway, I work with Colin’s mother. This woman puts everything into this kid.  I can understand pride in your chilluns and all that but she has millions of pictures of Colin at her desk.  One that is frankly, disturbing.  Almost like Colin is her boyfriend.  Every conversation the woman has, Colin is brought up. I mean, every single conversation.  Colin is an athelete and to talk to her, perfect in every way. 

 Colin has a big brother (that I know as well) and their mom never talks about him.  If she does, it’s with a tsk tsk tone and it drives me nuts.  The Brother…we’ll call him Tim.  Tim is adorable.  He is very bright, funny, ridiculously handsome.  I’ve know Tim since he was a little boy, about the same age as #2.  Tim has ADD and is obviously a disappointment to Asshat Mother.  I had a conversation with AM a few weeks ago, or rather, SHE was having a conversation with me about Colin.  I couldn’t stand it no mo.  I told her that Tim was every bit as wonderful as Colin was and that Colin was going to be in for a rude awakening someday when things didn’t always come so easy for him and at that point, Tim will probably be a bajillionaire and Colin will be borrowing money from him. 

I doubt very seriously she heard me.  Why? Because she continued talking about Colin as though he were the second coming of the Good Lawd Himself. 

A week or so later, I was in another co-worker’s office…one I don’t ever go in and sit down and talk with, but, this rare moment I did.  We were chatting it up, and in the door burst my favorite Asshat Mother. Didn’t say “Pardon me for interrupting” “Kiss my butt” or nothing….starts in on …you guessed it…COLIN.

When I am happy, you know it, for I smile or laugh.  When I am disgusted, I may not say so, but, one look at me and you can tell, right?  I was disgusted. Totally.

About an hour later, Asshat Mother comes to my cube (I didnt invite her) comes in and says “Are you ok? You seem down.”  I wanted to say “I’m not down but you get on my last nerve.”  I didn’t.  I didn’t say nothing cause she wouldn’t have listened nohow. 

I got to work this morning and I swear to you, it wasn’t five minutes and she opened her mouth and out came “Colin”.  I started laughing uncontrollably.  I am a mean person. 

And people wonder why I wear headphones and listen to music while I work?

This Makes My Ass Want To Chew Tobacco

There is no love lost for me where Rusty Yates is concerned.  I was disgusted when he remarried a couple years ago and I’m disgusted to hear he has a new kid. 

New Wifey-Poo Mrs. Yates better run for her life if ol’ Rusty wants to keep her perpetually knocked up. 

Rusty Yates is why there should be mandatory vasectomies.

I still think Andrea shoulda drownt Rusty.

Because It IS About Me

I don’t know ’bout ‘chall, but, I’m having quite the time with this hour ahead thing.  I think it’s cause they moved it up to the beginning of March.

I’m pretty good in the mornings.  I think of myself as a freak of nature that likes to stay up late AND get up early (sometimes).  This hour early thang, though….I am not crazy about.

This Daylight Savings Time thing is going to benefit me how?
*** I thought of a way it benefits me!  I won’t have to worry about changing this one clock in the kitchen cause….it’s correct now! Woo hoo.