I've just about decided that would probably kind of hurt, so I did the only other thing I could think of that might exorcise the demon....I made some:
I would really REALLY like to be able to tell you that it worked. But now on top of having the song set to auto play in my brain my thoughts are solely focused on how many different designs I can put on bones. Bones That I've Dug Up Because I'm Exuming thangs that's better left alone I'm resurrecting memories of a love that's dead and gone and Oh Dear God please make it stop.
If someone could just go ahead and kick Randy Travis in the shin for me that'd be great. It's not personal mind you, and I'm not saying he isn't very talented, but much more of this and that whole spork in the eye thing is going to start sounding good.
Speaking of sounding good....or rather of not sounding good...
I went out with some friends last night to our little tavern. Where they have Karaoke on Friday nights. Where I have never, not in all the years I've lived here, felt the need to sing. Until last night. With my friends. At the Tavern where Jose hangs out. In a shot glass. Or 3.
And I sang Fancy. Because I DON'T LIKE COUNTRY MUSIC. Reba would probably appreciate it if someone came on over and kicked me in the shin, because I'm pretty sure if she'd heard me slaughter her song she would be walking around with a couple of sporks hanging out of her ears right now.