While testing out my new cheetah knees in Austin over the last several days, I was reminded of my least favorite thing about (certain) Austinites: their abject hatred of Dallas. Anytime (generally) I introduce myself to a local and say where I’m from, they act like I said I live in a cloud of black mold inside a wasps’ nest inside an Ed Hardy store next to a sewage plant inside an active volcano on top of a Native American burial ground.
I mean, I like Austin. I used to live there. I go there and I enjoy myself more often than not. But it’s not like it’s the beach from the Leo DiCaprio movie The Beach or anything.
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