I'm Serious Jolene. Stay Away from Dolly's Man.

Lately I've been really into a certain iconic songwriter and I want you to guess who it is.  I'll give you a hint.  This person is:

a.) One of the great american songwriters of all time
b.) Owner of some of the perkiest boobs of all time

If you answered Dolly Parton, you got it right.  If you didn't answer Dolly Parton, it's pretty obvious that you don't know shit about her.  You might think that just because Dolly is a sweet southern blonde with titties the size of aquatic mooring buoys, that she couldn't be a good songwriter.  You couldn't be more wrong.  Did you know that Dolly wrote "I Will Always Love You," the theme to The Bodyguard and Whitney Houston mega hit? Do you remember Ghetto Superstar? The catchiest song at your 9th grade homecoming dance? Yeah, Dolly made that melody famous in 1983, so you've really got her to thank for that hot sophomore named Justin who squeezed your butt that night.  YOU'RE WELCOME JUSTIN. Perhaps now you're beginning to see why, of all people, Dolly Parton has the social cachet to start her own theme-park.*

*I am not making that up.  It is called Dollywood, and I want to go there for my birthday. 


Undoubtedly, one of Dolly's best songs is the heart-wrenching gal-to-gal plea, Jolene.  In this song, Dolly sings to a red haired vixen named Jolene and begs her not to steal her man-- even though she totally could.  If you are unfamiliar with this song, here is a video of Dolly singing it from 1974, in which she wears a purple bellbottom pantsuit and TOTALLY PULLS IT OFF.

The word you're looking for is "adorable."

Because I love Dolly so much, I've recently learned to play Jolene on my guitar.  I'm usually not one to criticize a master songwriter like Miss Parton, but I'm having trouble finding the song to be very relatable.  Why didn't Dolly just beat Jolene's ass?  That's what I would have done.  Also, I'm finding it hard to believe that a woman who was as beautiful as Dolly and in possession of so many pimped out purple pantsuits would ever have to worry about her man's wandering eye.  It's just not realistic.  

That's why last night I wrote a few new verses to the song Jolene.  Nothing could ever touch Dolly's original, but I hope it can do justice to the way I feel about Jolene.  Jolene, if you're reading this, I want you to know that you don't have a chance in hell of taking Dolly's man.  I'm serious. NOT A CHANCE.  So here you go Dolly, I've got your back girl and hope to see you next fall-- as you may have heard, I'll be coming to Dollywood for my birthday. 

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm warning you hon please don't take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene 

I will slap you with the backside of my hand...

Your danger is beyond compare, 

And I can tell you dye your hair,

Your roots are starting to show up there Jolene

And I can easily understand, 

How you would want to take my man, 

But you don't know how mean I can be Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm warning you hon please don't take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene 

I will beat that ass if you try to take my man...

MY Jehovah's witness, and the Honorable Reverend Guy Clark

I got a visit from my Jehovah's Witness yesterday.  She's been coming to see me pretty often lately, especially when I'm in the shower. I wonder if she even knows what my hair looks like dry, or if she envisions that I just hang out in my house in a perpetual state of dripping wet partial dress?  That may explain why she wants so badly to save me!

Now, I know some of my friends dread getting visits from religious evangelists, but the Jehovah's Witness that comes to see me is actually really sweet.  Lets be clear-- I have NO INTENTION of converting to her religion, but--being raised in the South-- I also have no intention of being rude to sweet old ladies who come to my door. Besides, I've worked enough sales jobs to know that cold-calling on people SUCKS BALLS, even if you don't have to confront them about Satan.

When I worked in sales, sometimes people were downright rude.  I was always grateful to have a few customers who I knew I could rely on to be friendly and polite, even if internally they thought of me as a trampy little time-burgler wearing outlandish high heels. (I was usually a trampy little time-burglar who brought brownies with me, which I think must have been some consolation.)  That's why my Jehovah's witness and I have an unspoken agreement.   She never pushes me or asks to come inside, and I politely take her newest magazine ("This one has some great information about Satan!") and warmly thank her.

This last visit, my Jehovah's Witness brought me a new pamphlet called "Three Things that Money Can't Buy."  I don't want to criticize other people's religions, but Sean was quick to point out that nowhere on this list was mentioned "True Love, or Homegrown Tomatoes."

I wish I knew where my Jehovahs witness lived.  If I did, some weekday morning as she was getting out of the shower, she'd get a knock on her front door.  She would run to the door, dripping wet, and when she opened it there would be me, with my guitar.

I'd give her a huge smile, and then tell her I was there, spreading the word of the Honorable Rev. Guy Clark.  Then I'd play her this song, and if I know my Jehovah's Witness, I think she'd really dig it. If nothing else, she'd at least politely listen while she ate her brownie.

"Theres only two things that money can't buy, and that's true love and homegrown tomatoes..."

- Guy Clark

5 Great Songs to Sing to Your Baby

Sean and I have always been  pretty musical couple.  We even played in a band back in NC, and I don't want to brag, but we got pretty big at one point---in the way that "big" can be interpreted to mean "had a lot of members." In addition to the usual lead guitar, lead singer, rhythm guitar, bass, and drums, we also had fiddle, cowbell, banjo, dobro, mandolin, and a clogging accordion player.  On a personal note, if you've never played in a band that had a clogging accordion player, I feel sorry for you. 

Our shows would get pretty fun, as our drunk friends fans were an especially raucous group.  For instance, there is no telling when someone would throw their panties on stage at our drummer, or when the bartender would have to announce in defeat "We are out. You have drank all the PBR."

With such a rich musical heritage, you can imagine how much music has become part of Millie's life too. I think it was my friend Sue who warned me, after the birth of her own baby, "you have no idea what a songwriting machine you are about to become." Boy, was she right. 

These days, Sean and I have split off from the band to work on a side project-- our daughter.  We're playing some pretty shitty venues, and by that I mean "her diaper changing table." We've come up with some sweet jams to entertain our tiny music critic (she is very judgmental of any songs that do not contain xylophone music,) and I thought I'd share a few of them with you today. I hope you enjoy them, preferably while selling your fridge out of PBR. 

To the tune of "This Land is Your Land" by Woody Guthrie

This boob is your boob,
This boob is my boob.
Our boobs got bigger,
Now we have side-boob!
From the left-side titty,
To the right side tiiiiiity.
This boob was made for you and me.


To the tune of "Yellow" by Coldplay.

Look at the stripe
Look how it turned to blue
that was Mommy's cue
That it was all yellow

Inside your dipe'
There wasn't baby poo
It was a different hue
and it was all yellow

I'm cleeaning up your baby butt
It's eeeeasier to wipe because,
you must have peed yourself twice
you must have peed yourself twice


To the tune of "Don't Ya" by the Pussy Cat Dolls.

Don't you wish your baby was sweet like me?
Don't you wish your baby had feet like me?
Don't ya?
Don't ya?

Don't you wish your baby could hold up her head?
Don't you wish your baby'd go the hell to bed?
Don't ya?
Don't ya?


To the tune of "Low Rider" by War.

All. My. Girls. Love a clean diaper.
The clean. Dia-per. Is a little drier
take a little piss
take a little piss
take a little piss and pee
take a little piss
take a little piss
take a little piss for me

To the tune of "Funky town"by Lipps Inc.

Won't you take me to, titty town?
Won't you take me to titty tooown.

Won't you take me to, titty town?

Won't you take me to titty tooown.