"Coal mine, moonshine, or move it on down the line"

I freaking love Coal Miner's Daughter. Love it. Beyond all reason. It's up there with Urban Cowboy for me. "I don't want no divorce, I just want the dadgum bedroom in the back of the house!" I have a strange fondness for anything hoaky and rednecky. And so it was with happy anticipation that I began investigating Confessions of a Coal Miner's Granddaughter.

Initially, the enormous header put me off. Those ginormous images right up front on an opening page chap my ass. I don't want to scroll, I suppose. Pure laziness. But aside from that, the site is purple, which is my favorite color and has graced my own blog at various times. Easy to read, clean, organized. I like that she links to the important stuff and leaves a lot off the first page. Classy. One suggestion: figure out how to add an "older entries" link to the bottom (because I read the entire blog and had to keep going up to the top to get to prior months).

And then, getting into reading the posts, I'm appalled. Not because the guts of this blog aren't good. They are. But because she's giving out such personal info! Holy jebus, her school teachers, her classmates, her grandfather's name, all of it, right out there for the world to see and stalk. Zoinks. Girl, that's just plain asking for it. Or am I overreacting? This from a girl who goes by an alias and uses a cartoon avatar to avoid identification.

But I'll overlook her tempting fate because she's pretty dang funny. She writes about the kids and the hubs, but it's not a mommy blog in the general sense. And as I delve deeper into this domain of Her Purpleness, I notice that, damn, we have a lot in common. It's kind of pathetic (and awesome) when you read a blog and go, "Oh my god, me TOO!" like eleven hundred times. She likes AICN, which I once kept up with back in the day and should really check out again. She has an unnatural fascination with the macabre. She loves the Varsity (although, who doesn't love the Varsity?). She has a hankering for Sean Connery (hands off, bitch, he's mine, even if he is older than dirt) but recognizes Timothy Dalton's skill. To top it off, reading her "100 Things..." I discover that she loves Disney, Wonder Woman, Kevin Smith, bluegrass, and Joss Whedon (me too!).

If I had a complaint it would be there there's no sex. She mentions penis and vulva, but there's no actual insertion of penis into vulva, which would just top the whole thing off for me.

But, Heather,







And I'm adding you to my Reader.