That’s it, folks, I am officially off the market, and married to this article from the Nashville Scene. You can read the whole thing if you want, but this is the part I’m rubbing up against my girly parts for the rest of my days:
“Because I was looking for ghosts, you know. I was just trying to pick up a thread which is kind of gone.”–Robert Plant
Filed under: Pop Culture
So are you divorcing Diet Dr. Pepper and ending your affair with guacamole to go all monogamous with the Scene, which you know will totally cheat on you?
And, why not just plan a threesome with Plant and Krauss? Oh, because she’d want the Butcher there and that would be just all kinds of unacceptable.
Regardless, if the Scene accepts your proposal, let us know and register for fine gifts.
It should be noted that the writer isn’t from anywhere near ’round here. He’s a Village Voice guy. In New York City. So really, you should be pitching woo to the Voice, except that would probably require you leaving us, and we can’t have that.
Well, then, fuck that. I’m not looking to live in New York City. Your loss, Village Voice (and, for that matter, The Scene). I guess I’ll just slink on back home to Diet Dr Pepper and see if the good doctor will take me back.