Spurs and Swimsuits

It all started with KMart.

One of my first jobs in high school was as a stockboy for the Martha Stewart-friendly, now bankrupt, pre-Walmart mart. Kmart has it’s own radio network that is piped in over the store speakers and while I was working there, the music was of two types: country music and country Christmas music. As the hillbilly laden earwigs of country music burrowed into my head day after day, I eventually grew to like the music. My very first CD was an Alan Jackson CD that featured the song “Chatahoochie,” which disappointingly is about a river, not a talkative woman of the night. Since then, summer has usually meant country music for me.

A few years later I was working at a local grocery store and would go sit in my car at lunch and listen to country music because it was all I could get in the parking lot. One of my favorite songs at that time was Tracy Byrd’s “Wtermelon Crawl.” There’s just something about summer that seems to mesh well with country music. I’ve always thought summer is represented well by rural areas, though this may be the result of extensive exposure to Countrytime lemonade commercials.

If this wasn’t enough to solidify me as a summer southerner, we can add the KCQ Summer Music Festival to the mix. My dad, raised on a farm in the south, has always been a fan of country music, and this is the only bonding we get outside of action movies because neither of us hunt or fish and I’m about as qualified to help with home and car repair as a blind, dog with no legs. All of the shows have been good, and after a couple of years we got our system worked out well enough that we know exactly when to show up and where to go to find the best seats.

Currently, my favorite country songs this summer are Dierks Bentley’s “A Lot of Leavin’ Left to Do,” SheDaisy’s “Don’t Worry ‘Bout a Thing,” Toby Keith’s “Honkey Tonk U” and Faith Hill’s return to real country with “Mississippi Girl.”

So there you have it, my dirty summer secret. And no, I’ve never worn cowboy boots…I don’t care what you think you see in my graduation pictures. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get back to the barbecue they’re having for us at work. One thing the cubicle environs of the business world do well is food. I’ve only been here less than a month yet I’ve eaten close to four years worth of birthday and retirement cake. Not to count the other free goodies that go floating around…

11 thoughts on “Spurs and Swimsuits

  1. My parents watched HEE HAW until its ultimate cancellation in Cleveland in 1987. (Yes! Thank you, Gene Roddenberry!)I consider it the only form of child abuse I ever endured.And I swear to God, I’m going to drive to Bakersfield and shove that red, white, and blue guitar down Buck Owens’ throat if I ever have to listen to him sing “Tiger By the Tail” or mangle “Act Naturally” ever again.

  2. my favorite part of this post was:”…though this may be the result of extensive exposure to Countrytime lemonade commercials.”And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go defend my honor on a couple other blogs due to severe bashing by someone with the initials BQ. but not without a stop at the office candy jar…

  3. Speaking of earwhigs…I was in crypto school at Fort Monmouth NJ in the summer of 1969. To foil the listening devices of devious commie spies, the school played WABC all day from tinny speakers mounted in the eaves. In those days, WABC played the Top 10 OVER and OVER and OVER. While I don’t remember what the other top 9 were, I do know that I heard A Boy Named Sue approximately 6oo gazillion goddam times.MAH NAME IS SUE HOW DO YOU DO?Uh, actually, it’s David, which doesn’t rhyme with anything in country music.

  4. Oh, he claims not to like it, he claims that he gets mocked.But secretly, deep down, he loves it like a man in a dominatrix’s dungeon crying, “Spank me! SPANK ME HARDER!!”

  5. You should know.You were the one with the spanking paddle.And when I say “harder” I mean harder, dammit. I’ve known 6 year-old girls who could hit with more force than that.

  6. Yea, but she’s got that lazy eye thing and you never know whether she’s talking to you or the gimp.And as for harder – John, your lily white ass is way to girly soft for a real paddlin’

  7. Stuart, no one’s ass is ever too soft for a real paddling. Sadly, I think dear Q is looking for, possibly begging for, a beating that won’t happen. Too each his own, musically speaking.No punishment warranted, no punishment meted.

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