Secret Confession
Helen has talked non stop this morning about Alex, the Banjo Picker's son. I'm ready to pierce my ear drums with my SMT tweasers.
I had to pretend to go to a meeting just to escape.
I had to pretend to go to a meeting just to escape.
@ 9:39 AM
4 Comments:
So what's worse? Helen's incessant talk of the Banjo Picker's son, or the musical stylings of Gretchen Wilson's "Redneck Woman?"
Explanation for all of Sherri's loyal readers: In an email, Sherri once threatened to pierce her eardrums if she had to hear the song "Redneck Woman" one more time. Amused, I typed out the lyrics from the chorus and clicked Send. She soon replied, "Oh, no! Now I have to pluck my eyes out, too!"
P.S. Sherri, my sister likes Gretchen Wilson, too, and bought the entire CD!
Ugh!! Definitely Redneck Woman!! I hate that song.
I'm a redneck woman.
I ain't no high-class broad.
I'm just a product of my raisin'.
I say, "Hey, y'all" and "Hee haw."
I keep my Christmas lights on
On my front porch all year long.
And I know all the words to every Charlie Daniels song.
Here's to all my sisters out there keepin' it county.
Let me get a big "Hell, yeah" from the redneck girls like me.
Hell, yeah!
Oh, you are an evil woman!! LOL
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