My needs are simple, but very specific.

One of my dating matches asked about my “guilty pleasure” entertainment choices, and aside from “I never feel guilty about pleasure,” which just sounds filthy in a way I’m not yet going for… I dunno, I’m pretty open about the lame shit I like. I’m not trying to make a guy go to a Pistol Annies show with me, or watch “Jane the Virgin,” or go see “Legally Blonde: the Musical” the 47 more times I’M totally gonna go see it before it leaves Philly. I don’t need you for that.

I mean, I AM gonna need you to like John Mulaney so I know you’re not a goddamn soulless monster, but I don’t feel guilty about that at all. A lady has to have standards, sir.

Petty with a Chance of Fiddles

I get a lot of (good-natured) ribbing for liking country music, but I don’t know how I could possibly NOT adore these lyrics paired with three sassy ladies, rollicking GUI-tars, and some motherfucking fiddles.

(Pistol Annies, “Got My Name Changed Back.” Catchy as fuck.)

They don’t even MAKE music for how sexy I am.

Normally I listen to standup comedy while I get ready for work, but I noticed the entire notion of “morning,” especially “rainy morning,” offers much less “fuck this shit” when I have music on. So today I put my iPod on shuffle and heard:

1. An Amy Winehouse song called “Amy Amy Amy” about dolling oneself up for a workplace flirtation…while I examined a pair of jeans I pulled from the hamper to make sure they weren’t the ones I dropped guacamole on the other day.

2. “The Thong Song,” while wearing llama-print hipster briefs.

3. “Hell on Heels,” flip flops.

I am basically sex on a stick, you guys. I don’t even know how y’all deal with me.

P.S. There was also “Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna, which proclaims, “I got class like a ’57 Cadillac,” which…clearly, with the guacamole and the llamas and the $2 Old Navy flip flops. But also, “got all the drive and a whole lotta boom in the back,” which — pfft — is TOTALLY true.

Family rally cry? Family rally cry.

I know you guys aren’t on my side with the country music, but I think we can all agree Pistol Annies have been reading my journal as we approach my family’s Christmas dinner. This is my new favorite song to sing in the car. (Shut up, I am SUPER hot when I have twang.)

“Well, Daddy’s reading propaganda
And he’s talkin’ ’bout the end of days
Well, cheers to the vodka Mama’s been sneakin’,
Let’s all gather ’round and pray.

“So I snuck out behind the red barn
And I took myself a toke
Since everybody here hates everybody here
Hell, I might as well be their joke.

“I’m gonna dance up on the table
Singing ‘This Little Light of Mine’
God gave it to me, what good’s it gonna do me
If I don’t, by God, let it shine?

“Hide your tattoo,
Put on your Sunday best,
Pretend you’re not a mess,
Be the happy family in the front pew…”

“Hush hush, don’t you dare say a word
Hush hush, don’t you know the truth hurts
Hush hush, when push comes to shove,
It’s best to keep it hush hush.”

#TBT/Kelly Clarkson worship

Just in time for #TBT, a friend just posted a list of Kelly Clarkson covers, and it is amazing, but this was obviously the first one I watched. I like the original better, but there’s something to be said for watching it come from a white-girl-angst-ridden blonde with some hips. (Ahem.)

“Hell on Heels” is also delightful. I always think of that song when I’m Olivia-Pope-strutting in heels.