Traffic school....redneck style.

So you know how I'm an expert on country music these days? Yeah, anyway. There are some easily observable trends in the subject matter of country songs. For example, sweet tea and beer are constantly being mentioned. But I also noticed that they set really bad examples for how to drive:

Luke Bryan - "I Don't Want This Night to End"

I'm set on cruise control

I'm slowly losing hold

Of every thing I got 

You're looking so damn hot

And I don't know what road we're on

Or where we've been

From staring at you, girl.

Ok, first, buddy, two hands on the wheel.  Don't lose hold of that.  Second of all, you don't know what road you're on because you aren't on a road anymore.  You're in a ditch or wrapped around a tree because you insisted on staring at homegirl instead of watching the road.  And on that note, I want to see this chickie who has captured your attention and stolen your safe-driving skills.  Is Sofia Vergara or someone in your truck with you?  I doubt it, Mr. Bryan.  Keep your eyes on the road, asshole

 I do want this song to end.

Rehab - "Bartender Song"

She broke my heart, in the trailer park

So I jacked the keys to her fuckin' car

Crashed that piece of shit and then stepped away

Is this legit country music?  I don't know.  But from the very beginning of the song, we know that the guy "broke his parole."  (That's bad, fyi.)  This doesn't need much explanation, actually.  I'll leave it at that.

  

Jason Aldean - "Dirt Road Anthem"

Yeah, I'm chillin' on a dirt road,

Laid back swervin' like I'm George Jones.

Smoke rollin' out the window,

An ice cold beer sittin' in the console.

Come on, J-Man.  This song is annoying as fuck to begin with, but I'd also like to point out that none of this is acceptable behavior when operating a vehicle.  I get that you're on a dirt road and all, but swerving like George Jones is not exactly desirable.  George Jones' alcoholism is pretty well-known.  And he wasn't even acting like a fun, jolly ol' drunk.  I'm not knocking the guy, but that's probably one aspect of his life that you shouldn't emulate.  Even if you were to claim that the "smoke" in question is coming from tobacco, you're still left with the beer in the console.  Ok, I'm no legal expert, but the law generally frowns upon drinking and driving.  Make sure this shit stays on the dirt road.  I don't want to die on the interstate because you think this is an appropriate way to drive.

 I mean, just look at the guy....

I guess I shouldn't complain too much. As long as I don't have to hear Toby Keith's "Red Solo Cup" ever again, these guys can sing about whatever they like.

But bottom line? They probably shouldn't moonlight as driver's ed instructors (that being such a desirable job and all...)

Besides, we all know that rappers set much better examples in terms of motor-vehicle behavior:

I got them 28's on the Chevy sittin' so high, Them plastic cups in the cup holders gettin' dry.                               -Three 6 Mafia, "Swervin'" XOXO, C-Dawg.

I found J.C.!!!!

You guys, I've found my Lord and Savior....Jesus Christ.

Ok, that's not what the title actually meant....

Here's what I'm really trying to say: FOOTBALL SEASON IS PRETTY MUCH HERE NOW, Y'ALL!

I guess that needs a little explanation. So, in this context "found" means "couldn't come up with anything to write about, so I poked around my unorganized photo folder until I found something that made me laugh."
Likewise, "J.C." does not mean "Jesus Christ." You should know it means "Josh Cribbs." Number 16. Heck yeah.

I found a picture from the time we met at the Pro Football Hall of Fame last year....

I mean, this photo is pretty embarrassing. Mike was pressuring J.C. and I to take pictures, and we were obviously not up for it. Mr. Cribbs and I both deal with the paparazzi on a daily basis, and clearly neither of us were camera-ready at this moment.

Anyway, this obviously wasn't a real post, so let's just all do a Browns chant and say goodnight.....




Ok, that's horrific and awesome at the same time.
It's late, so I'm going with awesome.
Whatever.
Fuck.

XOXO,
Caroline.

The Motor City Madman and Jesus are the exceptions to every rule.

There is absolutely no reason that a man should have long hair.

I have a problem with middle-aged men who have children, careers, and, inexplicably, ponytails. Are you really that confused about your age, gender, and the current time period?

I did some Googling on this subject, and the always-entertaining Yahoo!Answers gave me some good reading material:

"I am a 65years old man with long hair when should i cut it? i have a ponytail?" Well, sir, probably about 55 years ago. That's also when you should have learned proper capitalization and basic grammar. Additionally, are you unsure of whether or not you have a ponytail? I know the people who respond on Yahoo!Answers are generally brilliant, but I think only you can answer that part of your question.

"Ladies, does long hair on men do it for you? Just wandering, and would like a general opinion! please stae where your from too!" I'm just wandering, too! Just wandering if English is still taught in public schools! And don't worry, I'll "stae" where I'm from. Because I don't want to get anywhere near you, your long hair, and unnecessary exclamation marks.

"What do you think about long-haired men in church?" Ok, so I've been making the point that men with long hair look stupid. But if someone feels it's a hairstyle that shouldn't be allowed in church, that kind of bothers me even more. I'm not a church-going person, but from what I've seen, there's long-haired-Jesus crap all over those places. So JC can rock the look, but his worshippers have to get a crew-cut? I guess this will be reason #563 on my list of "why church confuses the fuck out of me."

Buddy Christ can have long hair. You can't.

I'm going to make a simple questionnaire to help anyone who is confused about this topic:

• Are you Jesus?
  


• Are you a woman?

If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you're allowed to rock the long hair. Otherwise, you need to plug in the Flowbee and cut that shit.

A nice, good-lookin' man with GREAT hair.

I've got two final exceptions to the no-long-hair rule:

1. Willie Nelson. I can't explain it, but for some reason he's allowed to have pigtails. Deal with it, fuckers.


2. Ted Nugent. Ok, I get that people have mixed feelings about this guy, mostly because of his political views and whatnot, but that is not the point here. Bottom line: The Nuge has put in more years of badassery than you and I combinded. At 62, he's totally earned the right to do whatever the hell he wants with his hair. If you tell him otherwise, he'll probably just shoot you. Also, Anthony Bourdain is cool with him, so I am too.

So, go on and make an appointment with your celebrity hair stylist, y'all.

XOXO, Caroline.

Why West Virginia Fails

Country music. Most people I know say things along the lines of, "I like all types of music....except country." I used to be one of those stylish people, but I guess I've taken a turn for the redneck (read: worse).

The map isn't even cool. (Ok, I don't know what state has a "cool" map, but whatever.)

I blame West Virginia, simply because it's an easy target. I mean, people don't often rush to WV's defense, do they? Everyone's all, "har har har, inbreeding!!" when that state turns up in conversation.

Anyway, when you're driving home from Cleveland (GO BROWNS) and you stupidly didn't bring CDs or an mp3 player for your trip, you get stuck with a total of 1.5 radio stations to choose from in West Virginia. The ".5" represents an assortment of "easy listening" stations that don't have very good reception. So you're forced to listen to the static-free country channel. To be honest, it was entertaining. We discovered the musical gem "The Black Number 3" and other hilarious songs. (Click that link. You won't be let down.)

The problem is, after safely returning to territory with more music options, we actively sought out country stations. Now, over half a year later, the radio station hasn't been changed on Mike's stereo even once.

I play country songs on jukeboxes at bars where I once cared about upholding my reputation of being awesome. That's out the window now, I guess. Even my ipod has been infiltrated with Billy Currington and Gretchen Wilson songs. My music-savvy friends give me dirty looks these days. I used to be so trendy, but I guess now the best I can hope for is redneck chic. I just googled "redneck chic," hoping that was at least a real thing. It's not, apparently. This was the first result after doing an image search:

That isn't me, y'all.
Photocred, http://chowderheadbazoo.typepad.com

West Virginia, it's all your fault!

Hearts,
Caroline

PS: I hope to see all of you at the Toby Keith concert next month! XOXO.

Don't Google This.

Sometimes I jot down a few words to remind myself of something I want to write about or look up later. For this purpose I carry small notebooks in my purse.* I remembered I had written something down after an entertaining conversation with my boyfriend, and I flipped through my current notepad until I found it. It was written in hurried, messy writing, but I'm 99.3% sure that it says "peeing Japanese people." Umm, what? Naturally I Googled it in attempt to find out what.the.hell. we could have been talking about. Bad idea. Obviously I am not looking for anime porn. Just peeing Japanese people. Give me a break, Google!

So I wrote all of that down after Googling that phrase. Then I apparently wrote "how to use a Japanese toilet." I was probably sure I'd remember why I jotted that down, but now it is weeks later, and I'm wondering what that was all about. Well, this was the first search result I found. Clearly I should be prohibited from Googling things.

I'm thinking I need to find some legitimate hobbies before I get carried away and start looking up the proper style for using toilets in every country on the planet.



*Small notebooks also make great gifts. A lovely, lovely friend named after Ariel's nemesis gave me a badass Yellow Submarine notepad for my birthday...

Ok, so she's way hotter than this "sea witch," and she totally wasn't named after this ugly thing. But still.

...and my always-on-point boyfriend hit a home run with a cutesy floral design and some nice Paper Mate pens on Valentine's Day. (I think he just wanted me to stop stealing pens from the bar where he works, but we'll pretend it was a romantic gesture.)


XOXO.

Really important update!

Here are a few things I don't understand:

• "Professional" documents typed in Comic Sans. Really, what is that about? I never even understood why people in middle school made that their font on AOL Instant Messenger, so why would anyone ever trust a law firm or dentist's office that advertises with it? Oh, and don't get me started on Dan Gilbert of the Cavaliers. (Additionally, that article implies that it IS okay to use Comic Sans ironically, but please note: that is seriously not the case. It's only okay if you're using it in a blog, as a caption on a photo of Summer Roberts.)

• On a related note: NBA. I'm a sports fanatic, but NBA makes no sense to me. You know what does make sense to me? My boyfriend:

(See? NFL > NBA. Duh.)

• One shoe on the side of the road. You know what I'm talking about. You're walking or driving down the road and you see one shoe. Not a pair of shoes. Just one. And this is not a rare occurrence. On any given road, at any given time, you're basically guaranteed to find a shoe. Where is the other one? Did you decide to just throw one out of the window along with your empty McDonald's cup? Why is there a child's shoe in the gutter? Were they kidnapped? I'm sorry, there are just too many questions with regard to this.

That's really it. I want to talk about Jerry Jones and people who put beer on ice, but my battery life is limited, and I'm in a totally poppin' bar where I'm the only customer, so clearly I have a lot of things to attend to.
XOXO, Caroline. (Dammit, Gossip Girl!)

Me, me, me.

I like talking about myself. Hopefully you like talking about me, too. It can be sort of like our common interest. I am almost positive I am closely quoting Summer Roberts right now. Summer and Dr. Roberts mostly just like talking about Summer. Maybe you and I can have a similar relationship, Internet. I'm sure I will have better luck making this relationship work if I stop referencing The O.C., but it is bound to happen from time to time.

This is an important life experience that I've already shared with my Facebook universe. Now I think I'll share it with the three people who read this blog-thing.

One morning a few weeks ago, I was driving home and an ambulance turned into a church in front of me.
Normally, a person should feel sort of sad and think, "Oh, I hope everyone is okay!"
This was not the case with me.
I thought, "Hmm. Someone probably had a heart attack. That's what you get for going to church all the time. Yep, churches have artery-clogging cholesterol-filled potluck dinners for every occasion. Baptisms, weddings, holidays, Wednesdays. Fatty food all the time. Stop going to church. Save your heart."

You see, I've always been sarcastic, cynical, and a little bit bitchy. But deep down, I had an actual heart. At least that's what I thought until this incident. It was pretty eye-opening when I caught myself in the middle of those thoughts.

I felt really bad.
No, I'm lying here. I did not feel that bad. What I really thought was, "Hmm, you're making a really good point, Caroline. I bet it was a heart attack!"

I'm slightly disturbed by my bitchiness.
Nope, lying again. What I'm disturbed about is my acceptance of the fact that I have a heart of stone.
I shouldn't be so okay with the fact that I'm an evil stabby meanie.
Do I have a choice, though?



What would Summer do?