My morning started as usual with my transistor clock radio blaring "Stand By Your Man." Tammy Wynette and I have so much in common. We are both blonde. We both have heart ache. Tammy is dead and I might as well be. It just makes good sense that Tammy and I start off every day with a good cry.
This morning, as Tammy started wailing and I started sobbing, I noticed a gnawing in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it was hunger. So I grabbed my favorite breakfast items...a can of aerosol cheese and a cold Lone Star Light...and headed outside to behold the beauty of a Texas morning. From the top step of my single-wide, I could see the sun rising behind my neighbor's confederate flag. It was a pretty morning. The wind hadn't picked up full speed yet. The panties on my clothesline were blowing off, but the tires on the roof of the neighbor's trailer were hanging in there. The aroma of cow patties sweetened the air. The sound of oil pump jacks lulled me into a meditative mood.
Between shots of canned cheese and beer, I wondered why people call canned cheese "aerosol cheese" when there is no aerosol used in the can. Some people are just so ignorant. Just as I was enjoying feeling intellectually superior to the common man, that gnawing in my gut hit again. I figured it must not be hunger. What could it be?
Then it hit me. Knocked me on my ass as a matter of fact. Hell fire, it's February 1st and the first day of Nicky and Mike's 30-2 Days of Writing Marathon. Hell's bells. I don't know 28 days worth of shit to write about. I only went to beauty school for 27 days. I didn't even make it to pin curls. How am I gonna find the smarts to compete with all the intellectual writers who are joining in this crazy party? Maybe I'll just go to some random blogs and copy and paste. Who will know? Hell, most of these people are just Yankees or Canadians anyway.