I was listening to a country music station on the radio when this song came on:

Don't my baby look good in them blue jeans
Tight on the top with a belly button ring
A little tattoo somewhere in between she only shows to me
Yeah we're goin' out dancin' she's ready tonight
So damn good lookin' boys it ain't even right

Adorable, right? I was smiling.

And when the bartender says for the lady
What's it gonna be... I tell him man..


She ain't in to wine and roses
Beer just makes her turn up her nose and

I didn't know where the song was going here, though. Can you be a southern girl and "turn up your nose at beer!"  "Is she going to be a tee toteler?" I thought. 

She can't stand the thought of sipping champagne
No Cuervo, gold margaritas
Just ain't enough good burn in tequila
She needs somethin' with a little more edge
And a little more pain
She's my little whiskey girl, 

I laughed out loud. Country music is funnier than pop or rock. It is less serious, less melodramatic, less affected. Southerners don't take themselves as seriously as do Northerners.  (I bet there are fewer bloggers in the American South than in the North, too.).  I remember reading Bell Wiley describe the difference between the the CSA soldier and the USA soldier from their Civil War letters. Both were endearing, Billy Yank was clearly smarter, but Johnny Reb was less affected, his letters were more emotionally sincere for their semi-literacy, the longing for home, for their girlfriends and wives, was  expressed more charmingly, funnier. You can't find a pop/rock song more charming and funnier than this. Enjoy the rest of Toby Keith's lyrics to "Whiskey girl:"

She's my little whiskey girl
My ragged on the edges girl, ah but I like em rough


Baby got a '69 mustang
Four on the floor and you oughtta hear the pipes ring
I jump behind the wheel and it's a way we go
Hey I drive too fast but she don't care
Blue bandana tied all up in her hair, just sittin there
Singin' every song on the radio


She ain't in to wine and roses
Beer just makes her turn up her nose and
She can't stand the thought of sipping champagne
No Cuervo, gold margaritas
Just ain't enough good burn in tequila
She needs somethin' with a little more edge
And a little more pain
She's my little whiskey girl, she's my little whiskey girl
My ragged on the edges girl, ah but I like em rough


She's my little whiskey girl, she's my little whiskey girl
My ragged on the edges girl, ah but I like em rough