Thursday, November 5, 2009

And now I alienate you...

I'm afraid I've contracted a terrible "dis"ease this week. I feel disconnected, discombobulated, disenfranchised, disheartened, disillusioned and dischickiswhackedout (just seeing if you were paying attention).

Maybe the time change early in the week threw off my biorhythm, as I'm not one for the shorter days of late fall and winter. Or perhaps I need to stop eating so many BBQ Fritos and chasing them down with handfuls of caramel candy corn, but who are we kidding? That's so not going to happen. It was hard enough not licking my children's discarded Halloween candy wrappers (as far as you know, I didn't).

Whatever the case, today's entry also will be a bit disconnected. But you're my friends, or at least you play them on my blog. You'll love me anyway, right? I'll assume you all nodded vigorously because that makes me feel good and buttery inside.

So here are my random thoughts du jour. Please don't be offended. I'm an ignorant Kentucky woman who ingests too much polysorbate 60.


I was picking up one of my kids from school earlier this week, when a woman pulled into the car line with a huge "We'll always love you, Nana! RIP!" decal on her Jeep's rear window.

I can't go anywhere these days without seeing decal tributes to the dearly departed on vehicles, and it's a trend I don't understand. I assume it began when Dale Earnhardt died. Suddenly every other Southerner had a "#3" sticker on his or her truck, but I can't blame NASCAR for everything I don't like (although I'm sure they had something to do with Miley Cyrus. I haven't figured out the connection just yet, but I will).

Anyway, I wrote a little jingle about memorial decals. You can sing it to the tune of your favorite country song. I think it works with ... all of them. And if you have one of these decals on your vehicle, please don't run over me in retaliation. I'm just desperate for blog material.

Sticker Shock

Memorial decals
are a disturbing new trend
For rednecks to pay tribute
To dearly departed friends.

Don't get me wrong, folks
I'm sorry your loved one died
But do you need to note it
With a sticker on your ride?

Splashed across rear windows
In Wal-Mart's parking lot
Are lots of creepy decals
That grieving people bought.

Of course I want sweet Nana
to forever Rest In Peace
But must you memorialize her
On your Chevy Caprice?

I get why you do it
Losing friends is a bummer
But Bubba Johnson won't live on
Cause of a sticker on your Hummer.

We all grieve differently
There is little doubt
But when your truck becomes a tombstone
That kind of creeps me out.

So please, when my time comes
And Death draws his sword
Don't put my name on a sticker
And slap it on your Ford.


Speaking of vehicles ...

I was walking my dog recently, when a car slowed down and the male driver honked at me. Or maybe he was afraid my dog was too close to the road. Or maybe his 1982 Dodge Omni malfunctioned.

Regardless, I'll take it!

In my younger days, I would have considered such behavior offensive, sexist and highly inappropriate. But now that I'm closing in on 40, it kind of makes my day (Oops. I just lost the feminists).

Funny how our perspective changes through the years.

For instance, from my perspective, I didn't see the college girl in short shorts jogging behind me when the dude honked.

And I didn't mean to trip her as she passed me. Honest.


I have now offended NASCAR followers, feminists and Miley Cyrus in the same post, and that's not easy.

My work here is done.


  1. You think I'm kidding, but I will get Kyle Petty to sing your song tonight at my campsite in the infield at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm not joking. I'll let him know it's copyrighted. And oddly enough, I'm a Miley fan.

  2. If personal tributes to "Nana" tick you off, I can't imagine what the "Urinating Calvin" stickers must do for you.

  3. w and i are going to make a nascar fan out of you, yet... or at least a fan of the lynchburg lemonade they sell at bristol (it's not the bottled stuff). and, by the way... it's too bad conway twitty had that unfortunate stomach anyeurysm years ago; he'd be all over that poem. just sayin'!