I’m going to be honest with you: my only real emotional connection to Rascal Flatts is their song “Riot,” which was the cool-down song for my Zumba class in college.
Or, as I like to call it, instead of a “cool-down” song, a “lay-on-the-floor-like-a-beached-whale-because-Zumba-takes-it-out-of-you” song.
This sort of got me thinking about country music, a genre that I personally have never been that into. I’d like to say that there’s no particular reason why it doesn’t appeal to me, but that’s not exactly true.
I think that a lot of the modern country music (cleverly named “hick hop” or “bro country”) is just terrible. Like, sinfully painful to the ears. Not that I don’t love a good drawl, but I just feel like a lot of the newer stuff is just so poorly written. Heck, I could write a better country song, and I’ve only been living in “the country” for 4 months!
I know, I know, some of you are probably well versed in “classic” country. You know, the older stuff that was actually written well and doesn’t make me wish ill upon the grizzled, tobacco-scented Golden Oldie singing it. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the cringe-worthy contemporary stuff.
And so, I have decided to write a country song for you using only select phrases that I have already written in my past columns to prove that my true calling is not, in fact, journalism. My destiny is actually in Nashville with all of the other stars.
I can’t play the guitar, but we can pretend. Now, listen up for a little ditty I like to call “CMAs, Here I Come.”
I have rain boots, snow boots, thigh high boots,
Eat their gelato, drink their wine
This is going to be a very hydrated year.
The stories last a lifetime.
Elton John is always a good idea,
They will write about me for years to come.
I ran over a squirrel leaving my driveway,
It’s incredible to have that kind of freedom.
I know about the rut,
Cut me some slack.
How very Claude Monet of me:
I was the victim of a sneak attack.
As the New Kid in the Holler,
I’m not a gal who knows about cars.
Some things will always be in style
Sipping a girly drink in a painfully chic city bar.
I’m practicing my night vision by creeping around in the dark,
I have to walk before I run.
That’s something people don’t talk about
It’s the poop emojis and the snack puns.
You win some and you lose some,
I’m an indoor cat all the way.
As a 23-year-old I still have frizzy hair,
I feel like I’m an extra in Bambi On Broadway.