So the wife thinks I’m a little hard on the Indiana people. Of course, she’s absolutely right. In my defense, I’m totally just joshing and HELLO I’m from Arkansas. And not even from Little Rock or Hot Springs or somewhere halfway cool. Nope, just a teeny tiny podunk town in the Ozark foothills. I guess that’s why I mess with the Indiana people so much–because really, honestly, deep down I’m as much of a hick as anyone else. (Seriously, my favorite band my senior year in high school? Lynyrd Skynyrd. And I’m 32. So the big plane crash that killed half the band happened when I was about one year old. Yeah I was a trendsetter.) But if I were some California crunchy granola person, then I really would be a (bigger) prick for talking smack about Indianians. Also, being from Arkansas, I’ve probably heard it all when it comes to regional insults because, let’s be honest, if it wasn’t for Mississippi, Arkansas would be last in pretty much any category you can imagine. (You know it’s bad when slack-jawed Alabamans are looking down on you.) Oh shit, I think I just pissed off another state or two. I’m gonna stop while I’m ahead.