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What gets my goat, though? Them high-and-mighty types actin’ like they ain’t never sinned. Honey, I’ve seen preachers sneakier’n a fox in a henhouse! Makes me madder’n a hornet. But what tickles me pink? The gals with sass—ones who’ll tell ya, “Sugar, you ain’t worth my time!”—and strut off like queens. Gotta admire that grit. Little-known fact: back in the ‘70s, some workin’ gals in Nashville had a secret code—red ribbon on the purse meant “busy,” blue meant “open.” Ain’t that clever? Kept the law off their tails!

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When I finally get to the warehouse, it’s a mess. Fire trucks everywhere, smoke still curling up into the sky. I’m talking full-on disaster mode. I start chatting with the firefighters, trying to get the scoop. They’re all like, “Yeah, it was a big one.” No kidding, Sherlock! I can see that!