Texas On My Mind

I've got Texas in my soul. I have an uncanny ability to bring it up in most any conversation if need be. When I was asked if I had left the local "country" bar Friday night, I said, "No. That place is a joke. I have boots on because I'm from Texas and that's how I roll."

Living out of the greatest state in the union is pretty depressing sometimes. Some people leave their hometown and never look back. That's not me. When you come from a place that's as an important a part of you as anything else you do, it never leaves you. I know I'll go back, and so does Texas.

On nights like these, where it seems I'll never make it back home, I clutch the things that remind me most of the place that made me who I am.

Sometimes it's music. Pat Green, Reckless Kelly, Eli Young, Stoney Larue.

Other times it's a long drive. No Texas city is particularly close to the next and each city plays to a different part of my being.

But more times than not, it's just talking to someone from Texas. My dad brings West Texas, my uncles bring big city living, out in the country living, and hippie living. My mom got to Texas as fast as she could, even if she didn't realize what a gift it is when she moved from the beach at 10 years old.

Maybe Texas isn't your home. It can't be everyone's. But it doesn't matter where you're from... if you don't appreciate it, you should. Whether you like it or not, your hometown helped make you who you are.

Everyone has to start somewhere, I'm just lucky to claim Texas.

Texas

Hell yes, I'm from Texas. If you don't like it, I don't care. I probably don't like where you're from either.

Now that we've got that out of the way, I'll tell you a secret. I love tequila.

Mr. Patron and I have a love-hate relationship. I love him very much. I hate the way he makes me lose just one earring at a time. All in all though, we get along splendidly. He takes me dancing and to hot dog stands in the middle of the night and he makes me forget how badly my feet hurt from the 4 inch heels that look super hot but were really meant for torturing war criminals.

Tequila doesn't tell you it's prettier than you--it makes you think you look great when the sweat from the night club has made your eye makeup smudge and your hair look like a rat's nest. It builds your confidence so you can punch the guy who just walked up to you with his creepy well-vodka and Bud Light smile and tried to touch your titties right back to the mid-western state from whence he came.

Tequila makes "fixin' to" sound normal even to the least Texas-y people in the crowd. Which brings us to my twang. Yeah, I have one. It's all good. I have friends that don't believe me. I have other friends that can't believe anyone would think I don't have one. My twang is most noticeable in voicemails, when I'm excited and when I'm drunk.

Bottoms up, y'all.