“I do love it down here in the Dirty South,” I murmured to my studly suitor. We nestled in a corner of 529, Atlanta, Georgia’s premier venue for the production and performance of DIY, independently-minded, positive punk music(s). “I feel that, at any moment – as you kiss me, as you pull ever-so gently at my nipples, as you slide your tongue down my happy trail to discover the untold delights beneath my skirt…I think that, at any moment, it could get mad crunk in here.”
“Well, you know what we say,” my beau replied. “We like to keep it hot down here in Hot’Lanta.”
“And I hear that folks like to smoke Pot down here,” I cooed. “In Pot’Lanta.”
My lover shook his head. “That’s not an expression,” he explained.
“What?” I queried. “That’s not an expression down here in Redneck L.A.?”
“Atlantans don’t refer to Atlanta as ‘Redneck L.A.,’” my macho man chided.
“But admit it – this city is a bit sprawling, just like L.A., and, because it’s in the south, has a much higher percentage of rednecks,” I elucidated. “Thus: Redneck L.A.”
“That doesn’t really make sense,” my paramour insisted.
“Well,” I pressed. “Do you or don’t you keep it real down here in the A-T-L, cuz?”
“We do keep it real,” my beau confided, “but we don’t necessarily talk about ‘keeping it real,’ and we don’t necessarily use the expression ‘cuz.’”
“C’mon now!” I exclaimed. “I know that it’s hard out here for a pimp – a pimp trying to get his money to pay the rent. I know that you struggle every day, hustling and flowing.”
“The 2005 film Hustle and Flow took place in Memphis, not Atlanta,” my suitor explained.
“Really?” I marveled. “Well, do you ever hang out with Jane Fonda?”
“Not really,” my friend-with-benefits yawned.
“What about Ted Turner?” I pressed. “Andre 3000? Big Boi? Cee-Lo? LaFace Records A&R’s?”
“I don’t think much about LaFace,” my intended admitted.
“Well…” I trailed off, stymied. “Do you at least like the Braves and the Falcons? CNN?”
“Your continued recitation of Atlanta stereotypes is tiresome,” my suitor sighed.
I considered this mild scolding. “But what’s the fun of going anywhere that doesn’t live up to its stereotypes?” I demanded.
