weren't for the fact that I am largely occupied with my move to Warfield (it's in Green Hills where I think I'll really fit in) and watching Six Feet Under (which has made me throw up twice in the past two nights). I also tend to get stoked about the little things. Shiny objects, clean socks, seeing Chewbacca play a harmonica. You know how it is. By the way, I just downloaded that song and will be singing it for the rest of the day. I hope you will, too. Why? Well, because that's what friends are for.But back to the little things.
The Best of Nashville poll-thing-buyyourvoteswithkissesandhugs is now available. And, like any good, decent, red-blooded, American
male, I went and voted. If you don't vote, you can't complain. That's my theory. And I am one hell of a complainer. Of course, this is also coming from the man who wrote himself in for Sheriff of Wayne County, Michigan, back in 2004. I received exactly one vote. And with me being perpetually 12 years old (I'm the person that couldn't order a Large Banana Shake from Sonic last Monday night without laughing), I decided that in order to cover all of my bases today by blocking out the boredom, voting, and personally amusement, I would make the Nashville Scene my victim. That makes me sound like a serial killer. It shouldn't but it does. English is a tricky language. I know. I've been speaking it for a while now. So, on to my results for this year's Nashville Scene Best of Whatever I felt Like Voting for... In picture form. Because everyone likes pictures. Except for Chewbacca playing the harmonica. Don't be an ass. He's blind.
And those, friends, are the highlights of this year's Best of Nashville Scene poll.
Yes, Best Local Men. I am large. I contain multitudes. That's Hemmingway.
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