Some Girls Do.

3:12AM.

Back home again. Couldn’t sleep. Guess Carla couldn’t either. She just came out half dancing in an old T-shirt, shaking her finger at me and stating emphatically: “I ain’t first class but I ain’t white trash!”

I asked her if she was wild and a little crazy too.

It’s all from an earwig Ruth planted two days ago. A hokey Sawyer Brown song from 1992, “Some Girls do”. I didn’t like it then and still don’t but it won’t stop looping in my noggin.

Every time we went out somewhere over the last week, Ruth played a nasty 90’s country pop station in her nice new Volvo. She sang along and knew all the words. It seemed so out of character that I asked her when in her life she had wallowed in that stuff.

I was embarrassed for her.

She grew up on Clapton, Jackson, Bonnie, Emmylou, maybe some George Jones or Merle thrown in that she picked up from nights when I was drinking beer and playing bad keyboard.

But Sawyer Brown? Really? And that song?

“Well I ain't first class
But I ain't white trash
I'm wild and a little crazy too
Some girls don't like boys like me
Aw but some girls do”

You know, you do your best with the kids, try to teach them right from wrong, but sometimes, somewhere, they just go bad.

I tried, I really did and I assumed nobody really liked that song, 

aw but some girls do