This morning I received a phone call from my incomparably brilliant editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel. She informed me that I had been named a winner of the Kentucky Bluegrass Awards, an award chosen by teen readers in Kentucky. Historically, Kentucky teens have done a pretty amazing job of picking my favorite books: Past winners include Walter Dean Myers' Monster, Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak, and Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones, all of which I loved.

Okay, so but anyway, I grew up in Alabama and my extended family hails from Tennessee. In short, I came of age thinking of Kentucky as our Northern rival, and so sometimes chided the place. But in lieu of this award, I feel compelled to:

OFFICIALLY RESCIND SOME STATEMENTS I HAVE MADE ABOUT KENTUCKY

1. Kentucky is not the poor man's Tennessee. It is, if anything, the rich man's Ohio.

2. Paducah is not a funny name for a town. It is a good name, and honestly, I've been to Paducah and I'd move there tomorrow morning if Sarah was not inconveniently located in Manhattan.

3. The University of Kentucky's football team is not so relentlessly horrible that I, John Green, could be their starting cornerback.

4. Racing horses is not a dumb sport.

5. Neither is grass that is blue.

In fact, I'm willing to take back almost every single complaint I ever had against Kentucky--although it will take a few more awards before I am able to forgive Kentucky for what its Early Times whiskey did to me in late 1999.

Really, Kentucky has so much to recommend it: Mammoth Cave; the world's largest baseball bat; the invention of my favorite musical genre (bluegrass); and plus if you happen to be an ingenious criminal, Fort Knox is the place to make a name for yourself. Also, Kentucky clearly has exceedingly astute teen readers. Thanks, Kentucky!

So let us sing one song for the old Kentucky home, for the old Kentucky home, far away!

p.s. Is not the myspace survey the best procrastination tool ever devised in the entire history of the Internet? That reminds me: Why aren't we myspace friends, dearest blog reader? Why dost thou spurn my myspatial advances?

p.p.s. I was about to sanctimoniously announce that when the Oxford English Dictionary includes the word "myspatial" in like 2093 or whatever, I had better get credit for it, but it turns out that I am a little late to the party.