I was eating a chicken sandwich from Wendy’s yesterday and dropped barbecue sauce on my pants. I was instant messaging my friend Ben at the time and mused, “why can’t I eat anything with barbecue sauce without it getting on my pants?” It sounded like the title of a great country song, and Ben pointed out that if that were the case, they couldn’t just be any old pants; they’d have to be Wranglers.
Of course I agreed, and suddenly lyrical inspiration flowed into me as if from another dimension (probably the one where country music is actually good).
Without further ado, my country tune that’s gonna make me the big bucks:
drivin’ down the interstate
my truck’s all I got left
my girlfriend just packed up her things
and took my favorite pet
(poor poor Fido)
I reach down for some chicken wings
and eat them while I cry
something sticky’s on my pants
is it blood from that cock fight?
(poor poor rooster)
I look down and sadly see
a big spot on my favorite jeans
how could my wings do this to me?
I don’t know what this means
(poor poor me)
why I can’t I eat anything with barbecue sauce without it getting on my Wranglers?
not onion rings or fireballed ham or fresh-cooked mashed potaters
grits and alligator meat and Mrs. Radcliff’s cat
they just don’t hold the sauce on like they used to, that’s a fact
I don’t know who Mrs. Radcliff is, but I suspect she’s pretty upset–not that her cat was dipped in barbecue sauce, but that she’s not the one who got to eat it, and also probably that some of the barbecue sauce got wasted on my Wranglers.
Relatedly, country music-wise at least, Sunday was my brother-in-law’s birthday, so we made the drive to his house for the party. Blarin’ away on the CD player was something called “Patriotic Country.” His sister-in-law arrived some time later and saw the CD case, and upon examination, exclaimed, “What a great CD!”
Unable to withhold my viewpoint–which thing also got our beloved sales guy to try and fire me two days ago (which is a lovely story for another time)–I said something really snarky, which I can’t recall right now, dangit. But the point is, the woman’s eyes got really big and she outraged, “How can you say that?!?!!!!?”
I said, “Just like this: [repeat of snarky comment].”
Now if only I could remember what I said, the story would be funny, just like the word “snarky.”