There Ain't No Tear in My Beer

Last weekend, while I was sitting at home munching on some leftover jambalaya from Tim's Cajun Kitchen, I got a call from my old friend George. That's his real name, but his friends call him Kaw-Liga, because when you first meet the guy, you'd say he had the personality of Al Gore, if you know what I mean.

Well, anyway, I was happy to hear from him, as we had gone quite a spell without speaking. We reminisced over old times - about the big camping trip back in high school when Joe Bob and Jimmy ended up setting the woods on fire - then about the days when we went honky-tonkin' every weekend, or "window shopping," as we sometimes called it.

It was all great stuff...until he told me, "Buddy, I hate to tell you this...but, your baby don't love you half as much as she loves me." I couldn't believe what I was hearing...seems that my old bud had done stole my little gal's cheatin' heart.

Well, the news hit me like a ton of bricks. I mean, just last Saturday, as we were strolling through the Wal-Mart hand-in-hand, my sweetheart had looked up at me and said, "Baby, we're really in love...my heart would know." I thought I heard wedding bells right then and there.

But, I guess it wasn't meant to be. After me and George got through talking, I had seen the light. I felt so lonesome I could cry.

Against my better judgment, I dialed up my baby and said, "Honey, I just want to ask you one question: 'Why don't you love me?' Don't even try to answer, 'cause it don't really matter. I've been thinking...and you know what? There'll be no teardrops tonight. I'm not gonna let you win again. Hey, you may be good lookin', but your cold, cold heart is just gonna have to move it on over, 'cause I won't sit here singing the lovesick blues while you dream of your mansion on the hill."

It was then and there that I made my decision...next weekend - June 3-4 - I'm headed down that lonesome highway to Georgiana, Alabama for the 26th Annual Hank Williams Festival, to hear the Oak Ridge Boys, Gene Watson, Earl Thomas Conley, and Jett Williams sing some good ol' honky-tonk blues. It hasn't taken me very long to take those chains from my heart, so here I am, and there I'll be...a ramblin' man once again.

(A bowl of virtual jambalaya goes to whoever can name all the Hank songs alluded to in this (slightly goofy) post.)