Thank You And Goodnight


Well, it’s January 31st, which means … I made it. Thirty-one straight days of posting. And, if I do say so myself, I rocked that shit.

But Courtney, some of your posts were total crap!

OK, well, yes. You have a point. But, as I warned you on New Year’s Day, crap posts are part and parcel of a post-a-day month. You knew they were coming.

So here’s what I learned upon my return to good ol’ Malfeasance:

1. I like blogging. I do! Coming up with something every day is hard, but it’s also a nice brain workout. Most days I enjoyed my quiet hour before bedtime when I was able to write.

2. When I feel forced, my posts are crap. I write all day long at work, so sometimes I’m just all out of words by the end of the day. When I’m inspired, I love writing. When I’m not, it’s a slog. I suppose that’s normal.

3. As blogging goes up, tweeting goes down. I’ve been more or less absent from Twitter this month, simply because my flashes of conversational topics can be put to better use here. What is a tweet if not a not-fully-formed blog post? Forget 140 characters — turn that bon mot into 500 words, yo!

4. I’ll keep it up, I think. Maybe not every day — we can’t all be blogging machines like Funky Carter — but when I have something to prattle on about, my little forum here will remain open. Will you still come visit me sometime? I hope so.

At Least There’s No Dancing Robot


I’m watching the SNL Sports Spectacular right now and wondering: why does SNL bother getting athletes to host? They’re always horrible, with the exception of Peyton Manning, who is pretty funny.

I remember watching reruns of SNL after coming home from middle school in the early 90s. Chris Farley, David Spade, Adam Sandler before he got insufferable … those were good years for SNL. Except for the one episode that George Steinbrenner hosted.

It won’t let me embed, but if you clicked through and made it halfway through that, I’m impressed.

If we’re talking sports and SNL, it doesn’t get better than these, in my opinion.

We Ride It All Out


Snowpocalypse update: Roads are now clear. I hiked back to my car and drove it home without incident, including making it down my steep driveway without running into the side of the garage, so: win.

It was so bad, though, you guys. Hundreds of kids were stranded at school! Some had to spend the entire night on an unheated school bus that was stuck in the middle of the road! (Can you imagine what that bus driver went through? Shudder.) One of my coworkers didn’t make it home until 3 a.m.! A lady had a baby in her car! People who couldn’t make it home slept in grocery stores and drugstores! Insanity, all the way around.

Meanwhile, my office was closed today, so I worked from home today and got more done than I usually get done in the office. At lunchtime I turned on the local news to watch our governor field questions about who did what wrong and at whom we should be pointing fingers. Look, I don’t even like our governor that much and yes, people screwed up, but hindsight is 20/20 and it’s not like anyone wanted this to happen. Let’s call it a freakish act of nature and move on.

Anyway. On a completely unrelated note, I’d just like to say that I love this song.

I Had No Trouble Coming Up With a Post Topic Today


If you want to see a few million people collectively lose their shit, look no further than Atlanta when there’s a hint of a threat of snow. Schools will close, grocery stores will sell out of milk, bread, beer and toilet paper, and wimpy Southerners will obsessively watch the news, often to find nothing significant happens.

So you can understand the Boy Who Cried Wolf mentality this morning, when all was clear, despite the snow warnings. Schools stayed in session; I went to work. Only around noon, the snow started falling, and unlike many Southern snow days, it stayed below freezing all day long. Which means the snow stuck to the roads.

My office ended up closing at 2 today, and after tying up some loose ends after an all-day meeting, I got on the road around 2:30. “It might take me an hour to drive the eight miles home!” I thought to myself as I left.

Oh. Oh oh oh. How naive I was! It took an hour just to go about two miles. After three hours, I got within a couple of miles of my house, only to find vehicles couldn’t get up a hill in the road, and it ended up looking like bumper cars up there. So I bailed and went an alternate route home, but guess what? That was backed up too. After sitting in traffic for four hours and change, I ended up abandoning my car on the side of the road and walking the remaining mile and a half or so home through the snow — in my work clothes, including heels, without a hat or gloves.

So that was fun. I’m just glad to be home, warm, in my pajamas, with a beer in hand. A lot of people aren’t so lucky. Shelters are opening for the night to accommodate people who can’t drive or walk home, and some kids are stuck at school because neither buses nor their parents can get there to take them home.

So, this freakout over weather? Perhaps this one is warranted.

If You’re Bored, Then You’re Boring


That’s a lyric from Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger, which I sang at karaoke the other night, and I rocked that muthafucka. (We also sang attempted Thrift Shop.)

Recently I heard a parent that I know describe a kid as “weird.” (Not exactly a kid — this parent is around my parents’ age, which means this “kid” would be around my age. She was talking about the daughter of some friends of hers.) Anyway, the context was that this parent had not seen this girl in quite some time, and she was reporting that the girl “got weird” as she grew up, and she meant it not in a nice way.

It’s been nagging at me a little, because you know what? That’s a horrible thing to say. Somehow it’s even worse when it’s a person of one generation talking about the person of the next generation. I want to believe that once a person becomes a parent, they become supportive of all kids, not just their own, and the idea that they would gossip and name-call just seems like bullying to me, even though these are all adults.

I’ve called plenty of people weird before, but not as an insult. Being weird myself, I see it as a sort of badge of honor. Give me a weird person over a boring conformist any day.

And, of course, now I’m wondering how many of my parents’ friends call me weird behind my back. Probably a lot. That’s fine. If you can’t handle anyone who’s a little left of center, I’m willing to bet you have the personality of a paper bag.

Confessions of a Cord-Cutter


In the apartment we lived in before buying our house, we had satellite TV, which is certifiably shitty. Is it raining? Windy? A little cloudy? Sorry, no TV for you. So when that contract was up, I cancelled it gleefully, and I haven’t replaced it with anything.

I haven’t actually had a cable bill for several years. For a while it was out of financial necessity, but now, I don’t want to pay it even though we can afford it. I just don’t see the sense in paying so much money for so many channels I’ll never watch. I would gladly just pay for HBO, Showtime, AMC, A&E and a few other channels, but until cable companies let us choose our channels a la carte, I’m not giving them any money.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, this works great for us. We get all our entertainment from Netflix, Hulu Plus and the broadcast channels we pick up by plugging the TV into the wall, and we’re never starved for things to watch. The problem arises when there’s some unmissable TV event that happens on a cable channel (like certain sports, and the last season of Breaking Bad, which we had to invite ourselves over to our friends’ place to watch). But that doesn’t happen too terribly often.

Except tonight, because Sherlock is on a channel we don’t get. Last week wasn’t a problem on that front because we watched it at M’s parents’ house. This week, it’s a crisis. John is getting married! I cannot miss that!

So, I’m off to find some sort of illegal live-streaming site so we can get our Batch on tonight.

Sing Loud, Sing Proud


At some point, karaoke became the activity of choice for my group of friends. We’ve done it a few times now, and we always have so much fun that Mick and I bought microphones for our basement TV so we can host karaoke parties at our house.

You know your friends love you when they want to hear you sing even if you have a terrible voice, which I do.

Anyway, tonight is karaoke night, ad I am way excited. I’ve been listening to a lot of White Stripes lately, so something in that milieu will probably end up in the queue. Until then, a poll for you:

Let’s hear it!