Greetings From the Grass Belt

They have all kinds of grass here in lower Appalachia: green, blue, crab, though I haven't yet heard "your ass is grass." What is the literal derivation of that phrase?
We're on our third semi-southern run in a year and we're gathering knowledge like so much Spanish moss. We're trying to do as the Romans do: wearing togas and championing man-boy love. No! Doing as the Romans is just a figure of speech for imitating the customs of the locals. We're in America now, so we're staying indoors and watching TV.

We're actually in Asheville, North Carolina, a hip college town with lots of good restaurants and vintage clothing shops. We played a great club there called the Grey Eagle. We had an enthusiastic audience and played for two hours straight. It seemed like the guys in the crowd - all six of them - could have listened for another two hours without tiring. OK, so it was our first time in Asheville. But it's quality, not size, that matters, and we are definitely crazy enough to come back and do it again.