You just can't understand why the TBI special agents don't get off their fat butts and start making a difference in crime that matters (drunk driving and child abuse, for starters) instead of spending 99.9 percent of their time hunting down meth labs which at worst might affect a 100th of a percent of Tennesseans annually.
Ha ha ha.... You LOVE this beer!
Your political viewpoints are shaped by a local radio personality who's a failed lawyer-politician, a convicted burglar, and a reclusive drug addict who broadcasts from his walled Palm Beach estate.
You are slow responding to a green light and you can hear the rednecks in the pickup behind you yell "Move it, Mohammed!" and you are Jewish.
You're a homophobic, born-again, right-wing, Big Orange-loving, NASCAR-watching, pro-war, anti-abortion, pro-death penalty and Christian conundrum of a human being.
When you have a barbecue, it entails using the ONE local BBQ-er everyone has to share in your apartment complex.
The person that you are landscaping with tells you last night his girlfriend was on Letterman (actually happened to me).
You believe the recent closing of every wanted establishment in Green Hills is a ploy for the entire community to morph into one giant Hecht's department store (which, by the way, no one really shops at).
You move to Seattle and after telling people where you are from almost everyone looks at you and says, "I can see why you moved." You are really so Nashville if you then spend several minutes explaining to these same individuals how much they are missing.
You have tons of guy friends eager and willing to help you move into your new rental house but you can't seem to find one of them who drives a truck. So until you can move half of the things in your apartment, you have to wait until one of them comes off the road and unloads their band's trailer. I love this city but sometimes I wonder what happened to all the trucks.
All of your family went to Vanderbilt, except your father who went to Peabody before Vanderbilt bought it, and you don't know how to count that.
After you move from Nashville, you start comparing all road construction anywhere in the country to what TDOT does in Nashville. By the way, TDOT should stand for Tennessee Department of Tribulation.
You love country music so much that instead of reading the cereal box while eating breakfast, you read CD booklets to see who wrote the songs and who the session musicians are.
You fall spectacle to Mucho de Loca dancing atop a baby grand piano, donned only in a sombrero, poncho, sandals, shades and yellow briefs at a Music Row Cinco de Mayo block party. After witnessing such enthusiasm, you realize that it's all par for the course.
After listening to Steve Gill for the first time you realize he's sad, so you think of him as a BLUE GILL.
You wonder if Paul Bunyan could've kicked a field goal between the uprights of the Stahlman Building on a good day.
You are fast.
You were born in Michigan.
You have a Tennessee Titans torch logo tattooed to your tits.
You've been killed by a relative.
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