Learn (and love) the language of the landlocked in this bitingly funny illustrated guide to the common phrases and sentiments of the American Heartland, from the author of the McSweeney’s series “A Guide to Midwestern Conversation.” If you end an evening by slapping your thighs and saying, “Welp, I’ll go ahead and get outta your hair,” then you don’t need this guide, but you sure as heck might like it. Full of common Midwestern phrases (and what they really mean behind the friendly facade), A Guide to Midwestern Conversation is an affectionate, self-deprecating look at the language of a people long defined by their kindness and reduced to their voting patterns. Written by born-and-bred Midwesterner Taylor Kay Phillips, it’s a wink, a hug, and a firm handshake (with eye contact) to the millions of Americans who say soda and pop interchangeably and grew up doing tornado drills in school. Discover Midwestern conversational staples like: How to announce that you hate something beyond comprehension (“I didn’t really care for it”)  What counts as “a short drive” (less than eight hours)  Sports talk (starts early, doesn’t end till we’re six feet under) Describing the ultimate dream home (“It’s got a finished basement”) An ode to the Garage Fridge Including an array of guides, tips, and profiles of all the states included, A Guide to Midwestern Conversation is guaranteed to make Midwesterners (and their friends) laugh out loud, nod their heads, and ask if “anyone needs anything real quick while I’m up.” “Taylor is as funny as she is Midwestern. And she is thunderously Midwestern. You will enjoy this book!” —John Oliver, Last Week Tonight with John Oliver “ . . . a wildly entertaining, precisely critical, and lovingly mocking taxonomy of the people of ‘flyover country.’” —Vulture “It’s perfect. It’s wonderful. If you are from the Midwest, or know someone who is, go check this out, peruse it a little bit, buy it as a gift. . . . Phillips does such an excellent job of parsing, with familiar and understandable exactitude, the very fine distinctions in what seem to be interchangeable expressions. . . . It was both revelatory and delightful and somewhat reaffirming. Really fun pop anthropology that’s smarter than it seems, and more fun than it has any right to be.” —BookRiot Taylor Kay Phillips is an Emmy-Award winning writer and comedian originally from Kansas City, Missouri. She currently works for Last Week Tonight with John Oliver on HBO. Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, and Reductress among others. She lives in Harlem with her husband and three coffee makers. Jovaney Hollingsworth grew up in the Bahamas but often visited his grandparents in Michigan, where he loved the iconic nostalgia of the Midwest. Eventually moving to Minnesota, Jovaney combined this American iconography with the bright Caribbean color palette and turned it into a successful career as a graphic designer and illustrator. Introduction Well, hey there! Come on in, sit down. Can I getcha anything? A coffee? Glass of wine? Bagel bites from the garage fridge? You sure? Okay, well, you just let me know. Welcome to A Guide to Midwestern Conversation , a manual to and a road trip through the twelve states designated as “The Midwest” by the Encyclopaedia Britannica, New World Encyclopedia , United States Census Bureau, and most dads. Those states are, in alphabetical order (well, almost; I’m starting with my home state but, I promise, this is the only time I’ll play favorites): Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Michigan, Minnesota, Nebraska, North Dakota, Ohio, South Dakota, and Wisconsin. I wanted to get that out of the way first, because sometimes people like to debate what “counts” as the Midwest, and to be honest with you, that whole conflict isn’t really my thing. While “The Midwest” is a certain defined geographical region (not debatable within this book), a “Midwesterner” can live, visit, and squeeze right past ya anywhere in the world! We’re united by much more than the many (many!) acres of land that divide us. The similarities in the way we talk, give directions, and cover our necks during tornado drills bind us together almost as much as our love of puppy chow. It’s not really fair to call the Midwest “misunderstood” because (1) I think we Midwesterners understand our deal pretty gosh darn well, and (2) I don’t think anyone else (ahem, Coasties) has tried hard enough to even get it wrong. But one thing that I think folks get a little bit twisted is the idea of “Midwestern Nice.” Some people characterize it as being passive-aggressive, intimating that we’re as mean as everyone else but we just do it with a smile. Negativity with a side of deep-fried disingenuousness, if you will. Others come down on the opposite side, claiming that Midwestern Nice is a form of superhuman kindness and hospitality. That we, as a species, are just so deeply nice, we are incapa