Okay folks.  Prepare yourselves. Gird your loins. Rope your cattle.  Er…okay, maybe not the last one, or maybe it’s the perfect analogy for the preparedness that must ensue before I drop this a-bomb on you.  Seriously people.  This is seriously serious confession time stuff. 

Seriously.

Are you ready for this?  No, you’re not, you just think you are, but it doesn’t really matter, because you’re just going to have to grin and bear it.  Here’s my confession:

I’m starting to like country music.

((((crash))))

(((crickets chirping)))

(((hides face in shame)))  I KNOW!!!!  ME!  Country music!!  ME!  Sworn enemy of all things country music.  I blame a particular person, by the way.  It’s totally his fault.  I mean, if I’m gonna be stuck in a car listening to it for an hour or so, I find that it’s easier to adopt an “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” mentality.  But I didn’t mean to actually start liking it!!!!

Wouldn’t you know it’d backfire on me?  That I’d actually start to like it?  That I’d actually prefer the country music stations here in the Big D to other stations on the air?! 

Gah!! Dear gods of music, what has HAPPENED to me?!

As if you need more tangible proof of the change that has been affected in my musical preference, here’s an example.  This one has actually become one of my favorites.  The first couple of times I heard it, it struck me as being a little awkward with the white boy rapping stuck in, but it’s totally grown on me:

Good grief, I’m a fallen woman.  I understand if you wish to disown me as a friend, but consider this your warning: if you get a ride from me somewhere, you’re listening to this in my car. 

Okay, peel your jaw up off the floor and get on with your life.  Really, this isn’t that big of a deal…