At the end

Okay, so it was going to have to happen eventually.

Nine years ago, I started this blog because I had things to say and no one nearby to say them to. At first, just having a platform to blab out my thoughts was a thrill; over time, reader started trickling in, and there was interacting, and I've even gotten to meet some of you in person, and that has been an even bigger thrill. It has been a really great nine years. And that's a high note I'm going to end on.

This blog and my reader have meant a lot to me over the years, and I wish I had some kind of gold watch to hand over in honor of a well-earned retirement. I don't have one of those, though, because this is a blog, and a watch would be wasted on a blog, because it doesn't have a wrist. I also wish I had a gold watch to give to you, my steadfast reader, who has stayed with me all this time even as posting waned, because then I would have a gold watch and I could sell it and use the money to buy shoes.

I don't want this to be over, honestly. I like the heck out of y'all, and I want to keep you. You can still read my feminist-leaning stuff on Feministe, and I hope you will. Hook up with me on Facebook, and we'll be friends, and I'll talk about shoes and grammar and Georgia football. Follow me on Twitter, and I'll follow you back. And I still fully intend to finish the epic Baby-Sitters Club fanfic that I started; I don't know when, and I don't know where, but it will happen.

The final Ten:

1. U2, "With Or Without You"
2. Sisqo, "What These Bitches Want"
3. Siouxise and the Banshees, "This Wheel's On Fire"
4. Alanis Morissette, "King Of Pain"
5. Christina Aguilera, "Walk Away"
6. Garbage, "I Think I'm Paranoid"
7. Arlington Priest, "Mexico"
8. Paul Young, "Come Back and Stay"
9. Blossom Dearie, "Comment Allez Vous"
10. Pet Shop Boys, "Dreaming of the Queen"

Your Ten, and your suggestions for the final chapters of the Baby-Sitters Club Super Mystery #last, go in comments. Love y'all.

On the Good, the Bad, and the Friday Not-Even-Random Ten: Enough With the Bad Already edition

Okay, so so 2011 is drawing to a close, and it's been… a good one? There are twelve months to look back on and decide, and just listing things out, it comes out pretty even. But just in terms of it being a landing you can walk away from, then yeah, I'll say it was a good year, warts and all. And for this TGTBATFRT--just this one--we're going to look past the warts, the failures, the exhibitions of cruelty, and the general stupidity that arises from time to time and makes one wonder about the fate of humanity, and focus on the good things that give the world hope.

I don't want to give any indication that the low points of 2011 aren't worthy of notice. But just for a moment, I want to fill the glass halfway. The good parts number far more than I have room for here, and I'm sure I've forgotten many more and will have to add them in comments as they come up. My mom has a superstition, passed down from her dad, who probably got it from someone crotchety and Slovak, that whatever you're doing on New Year's Day is what you'll be doing all year long. I like to think I'll spend 2012 thinking happily about good times. (And eating Chick-fil-A, and I have plans for making that happen.)

So in the interest of following through with that plan, I give you:


What's good (for the year ending December 31, 2011):

- Readers who've stuck with me. I've been so unforgivably lax about keeping up with this blog, even after crafting myself multiple ways of making it just as laziable as possible. The fact that when I do post, I still get comments, is a real thrill.

- Subway veggie subs, 6", on wheat, with spinach, tomato, cucumbers, green peppers, black olives, a little bit of salt and pepper, and a little bit of mustard. They're a delicious and fresh and crispy lunch for those of us who don't insist that something die for every meal.

- People making good, smart, compassionate choices in Mississippi

- The last episode of The Walking Dead before the break

- Lanacane Anti-Chafing Gel. It turns out the stuff that athletes put on to keep from getting all chafed in their chafey parts--I know, right?--has basically the same ingredients as foundation primers from big makeup brands like Smashbox at one-sixth the price. I started wearing primer when it became evident that my skin isn't, for some reason, the same as it was when I was 20, and this is some good stuff.

- The new gig at Feministe. This one has its good and its bad aspects, the worst being that yeah, I've been really bad about neglecting the readers I have back home. And being beholden to a community that big and that… vehement can be kind of stressful. But it's also pretty fulfilling.

- My family. They're good every year, but they were good this year, so they go on the list. Also good is that not only is it expanding, it's expanding with good people, among them Big Bro's girlfriend whom I dig like the sister I didn't know about until my early thirties. Also, Skipdog.

On Mashup Monday: Back (I'm pretty sure) and better(ish) than ever edition

Or, We Apologize for Interrupting This Interruption

Okay, so I know I promised that my new blogging gig wouldn't come between us, and it now seems time to come to terms with something: I'm full of shit. Just haven't been trying hard enough. Really sorry about that. I'ma fix that. See? I'm posting right now! Does that count?

What if made an apology? What about a gift? What about a mashup gift? What about Notorious B.I.G. and Tom Petty?

Notorious B.I.G./Tom Petty - Mo' Free, Mo' Fallin'

Pair those overly-familiar guitars and that damn “can’t-eject-from-brain” hook with the radio-glossed truth-isms of Kelly Price and “Shiny Suit Era”-heyday tag-team of Ma$e and Biggie (sans The Artist Then Known As Puff Daddy) rapping about their rich man problems though, as those master mash-uppers The White Panda have done in their latest creation, and you’re talking something we could blast on repeat for days.

Marrying Biggie with White folks’ music will never lose it’s novelty awesomeness.

More to come, I promise. Thanks for hanging around.

On confessions of infidelity

Okay, so I know you've been wondering where I've been and where my head has been lately. (I know this because I've been getting e-mails from absolutely none of you asking if I'm okay. Thanks, y'all. Feeling the love.) And it's true, I've been negligent. But for once, there's a good reason: I've been cheating on you.

Wait, that doesn't sound good.

There's a good reason: I've been cheating on you with four women.

That's better.

So I'm the new staff blogger at Feministe, a blog you will recognize from all of the post topics I've blatantly stolen from them when I've been too lazy to come up with my own. I think they just got tired of me ganking their content and decided it was time for me to give back once in a while. I'll be posting regularly over there under the name Caperton (she has a name! My gift to you), but I'll also keep posting here, so wipe that delicate, crystalline tear from your eye. You'll be getting the same fun and snark and meaningful commentary and vicious take-downs and language that makes my parents ashamed of me, with the added bonus of extra fun and snark and meaningful commentary and vicious take-downs and language that makes my parents even more ashamed of me because it's in front of a larger audience, at an ad-supported blog, using my actual name. It'll be fun.

Seriously, though, I don't intend to let this affect my blogging here. If anything, it might improve it. I have the best reader(s) in the world over here, and the choicest morsels are for you. Remember: You were my firstborn, and thus I will always love you more.

On being this many (redux)

NB: As I was preparing this post, I was all, "Man, it's been so damn long since that last post, and that whole no-power thing really blew, and I'm so glad to be finally getting back to posting." I put my laptop aside to go run some errands, and… CAME HOME TO NO MOTHERFUCKING POWER. AGAIN. I wish I were shitting you. So now we've officially spent more time this week without power than with it, and we've had to throw out food, and do you know what it smells like in a house that doesn't have air conditioning but does have a storm-phobic rat terrier? YES, IT SMELLS LIKE THAT. So I'm glad to be returning to posting, not just because I miss my reader(s) but also because it means I have lights and AC and access to a coffeemaker or blow drier or circular saw or whatever else I want that runs on electricity. So… moving on.

Okay, so I actually have a decent excuse for not posting for most of the week--our power was out for the better part of three days following a 15-minute thunderstorm. And it sucks, because I actually had stuff to post, or at least that I would have gotten ready to post had I not been forced into the Luddite hell of pen and paper by candlelight.

One thing that I missed out on? My own seventh blogiversary. (The seventh is supposed to be wool or copper, or possibly big metal chickens, so make your gift purchases accordingly.) Seriously, I've been doing this for seven years. If this blog were a kid, it would be in first grade. So really, it could be writing itself, albeit laboriously on that special paper with dotted lines.

Looking back over the past seven years, I see more than 900 posts--three and a half bazillion words--of stuff that's important to me, some of it societally significant, some of it even world-changing, and some of it so trivial that it's probably not even interesting to my reader(s). There's one thing about me when I get passionate, though: Sometimes, my word choice becomes… less than optimal. My dear aunt says swearing is unattractive, my grandmother said it's a sign of a weak mind, and my mother cringes when she hears verbal naughtiness (despite having a potty mouth of her own, on occasion, due to my own horrible influence), and they're all right. However, as they say, behind the mouth of a sailor lies the heart of a poet,* and I generally let such words fly in moments of passion and fervor. One can guess that they appear in important places. Thus my seven-year review follows them like something you follow to see where it's going.

Seven Years of Practically Harmless, in Words My Mother Disapproves Of

On Mashup Monday: Happy blogiversary to me edition

Okay, so it's late--my blog actually turned seven last Tuesday. But I do have a reasonable excuse for holding off the celebration. Until now. And that celebration begins... now.

In honor of me, I give me the gift of five great tastes that taste great together.

The Beatles/Joan Jett/Cypress Hill/House of Pain/Rage Against the Machine - Mash Together


Thanks for sticking with me. Regular posting to recommence in three... two... one...

On a shameful new project

Okay, so if you've been noticing the recent dearth of posts and thought, "I bet she has a big project coming up that she's going to announce any day now," you're right! Yay you! (If you've been thinking, "I bet she's totally slacking off": also correct.)

Blame Facebook. (Blame it for everything anyway.) A friend linked to a story about the recently released sequel to the Sweet Valley series, revisiting the beloved characters ten years later. (General consensus: It's nice to see the girls again, but Francine Pascal seems to Try a bit much to turn them into spicy adults.) That led to the inevitable discussion of what the Baby-Sitters Club girls would be up to a decade later. That led to the following conversation:

FOLKS. Oh, my God, you're so funny! This is so good.
ME. Wow, that's really flattering. Thanks.
FOLKS. No, I mean, this is really good.
ME. Thanks.
FOLKS. No, I mean really, really good. Better than the real thing, probably.
ME. I--
FOLKS. I would totally read that book, if you wrote it.
ME. Well, I--
FOLKS. WRITE THE BOOK. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.
ME. No, you don't.
FOLKS. WRIIIIITE.
ME. Jesus, okay, okay!

Word for word, I swear.

Anyway, the upshot is that I'm venturing into the realm of what I will deny to my dying day is fan fiction: You're getting the Baby-Sitters Club, fourteen years down the road, one chapter a week. I'm going to try to post chapters Thursday evenings, and if I don't, someone e-mail me or something. Or e-mail Erin. This is her damn fault anyway.

Coming up: Mary Anne should know by now what she's getting into.

On auld acquaintance (should I have been forgot, and if that's the case, I really can't blame you)

Okay, so my regular reader knows I don't do New Year's resolutions, because I think the turning over of a new calendar page is a fairly arbitrary reason for making significant life changes. But the beginning of a new year--or even a new month, for that matter--is a great time to get back to blogging, particularly blogging on a regular basis. There's so much going on in the world right now that my months-long absence is simply inexcusable. So keep your eyes peeled for content--not today, of course, because it's late and I still have a gut full of pork roast/turnip greens/black-eyed peas to digest, not to mention a few circulatory systems' worth of champagne to sleep off. (And it's the good shit,* too, thanks to a certain friend of mine who's generous enough to share.) But I'll stop neglecting my blog, and you, the two or three of you who still bother to check from time to time.

Happy New Year, best of health and luck, and I'll see you in a few.

*See? There goes my resolution to swear less.

On triumphant returns (and Mashup Mondays)

Okay, so it's been a while. A long while. It's been--Jesus, God, February? That's, like, months ago. Months and months. Whoops. Sorry about that.

I'm sorry I abandoned you without notice. That wasn't cool of me. I got pretty busy pretty suddenly. There was work, of course. There's a certain side project that I have going on. (Not really a "comedy" person? Not familiar with Birmingham politics and entertainment? Maybe don't bother clicking that link. But hey, maybe bother. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life.) And I bought a frigging house, which was a surprisingly lengthy and involved project, and now I'm moving into the house, which is an unsurprisingly lengthy and involved project. Is that a thorough explanation? Certainly. Is it an excuse? No, it is not.

But I'm going to try to make up for it as best I can. Between local politics and national politics and that big messy thing that's happened in the Gulf of Mexico and whatnot, there's plenty to be attending to. Also, there's about four months of other articles, events, scandals, hilarities, and atrocities that I keep tucking into a little folder to blog on and then not blogging on. (See? At least I was thinking about you all this time.) So on top of my ongoing other responsibilities, it's back to the blogstone. You'll be able to enjoy commentary on new, current, interesting events, as well as flashback commentary on stuff that's already been discussed to hell and back but I didn't get a chance to put my two cents in. Because I know how important my cents are to you.

So that's my pledge. Note that it's a fairly nonspecific and nebulous pledge, since I'm not sure how much of this I'll be able to crank out at once. But you've got a kind of a pledge, at least, which is worth the ones and zeros it's posted with.

To kick off my return to the blogosphere, I present a new feature I'm calling Mashup Monday, wherein I share some of the awesomest songs ever to come together courtesy of Garage Band. For the inaugural Mashup Monday, 2 Many DJs bring together Kurt Cobain and Beyonce in a way that God never intended.

Nirvana/Destiny's Child - Smells Like Booty



Enjoy, and I'll see you tomorrow. Or Wednesday. Ish. What am I, a machine?

On goobyes

Okay, so June 21 was my fourth blogiversary. You'll notice that it slipped by completely unremarked upon. You'll probably also notice that I haven't posted anything of substance for nearly two months. And there's a reason for that. I just haven't felt like it.


A lot of it can be attributed to overwork, which is certainly a major factor in my life. A lot of it can be attributed to the current state of politics, much of which is just more of the same crap I've been writing about for the past four years. A lot of it can be attributed to the glut of really talented writers out there, my brother among them, who tend to put things better than I ever could, leaving me with no more comment than, "Yeah! What she said!". And more than a little bit of it can be attributed to me; I don't know if I'm depressed or burnt out or just unmotivated, but my give-a-crap meter doesn't peg at nearly the level that it used to.

Practically Harmless deserves better, and so do you. You deserve better than a Friday Random Ten every three weeks and the occasional apology for not posting more. That's why--and I swear, I'm tearing up like a big baby just writing this--I've decided to retire.

I'm leaving the blog up, just in case anyone still cares at this point, and I can't promise I won't return to it at some time in the future (if Michael Jordan and Brett Favre can do it, so can I). But I just see no reason to keep promising to do better when, in reality, I struggle to come up with enough good and bad things to fill a Friday post.

So this is it. I thank the bloggers who have inspired me over the years, I thank the readers who have made me feel like I'm not just screaming into an empty warehouse, and I especially thank those of you who have stuck with me in my none-too-productive recent months. It's been fun, even the parts that haven't been.

Try the veal, tip your waiters, and if you drink, don't drive. Last one out, turn out the lights.

On my undisclosed location

Okay, so I've gotten a few e-mails of the "Where the hell have you been?!" variety lately, and I realized that it's been going on a month since I blogged last. For this, I am terribly sorry. In my defense, my schedule for the past month has looked something like this:

- 800-word story
- 600-word story
- 600-word story
- media kit
- fundraising case statement
- video shoot
- 600-word story
- 500-word story
- 800-word story
- take two days off to watch Dad try to have a heart attack
- 600-word feature
- 600-word feature
- physical therapy
- 400-word rewrite
- 400-word rewrite
- 400-word rewrite
- 400-word rewrite
- 500-word reworking of past feature
- video script
- 600-word feature
- 2,600-word feature
- take 15 minutes at lunch time to nearly have a heart attack of my own
- proofreading

To put it bluntly, I'm fresh out of words. I do have ideas, though, so as soon as I find more words, I'll be back to regular blogging (or I'll farm it out to someone in India). If it makes you feel any better, the things I've neglected during the past month have included

- blog
- boyfriend
- novel
- short story
- laundry

so you're in good company.

See you soon.

On a personal note

Okay, so a big shout goes out to our own commenter Zen Bubba, who, having been issued his dorsal fin and rows of pointy teeth, is now licensed to practice law in the state of Tennessee. Congratulations, Z.B.; if any of your coworkers look like James Spader, be sure to give me a call.

On making new friends (although "keeping the old" sometimes goes out the window when you have to flush the blogroll)

Okay, so everybody welcome to the blogroll Kathy of Birmingham Blues. She's linked us a couple of times, she gives good post, and I even got to meet her at the Jefferson-Jackson dinner a few months ago and found that she was nice (but in a good way). The only reason she hasn't been linked before now? Because I suckity-suck-suck. And now I'm taking care of stuff.

On further paucity of blogging

Okay, so blogging will be light this week, as I'm at (I just remembered, waking up in a hotel room and not my own room) a conference for work and will be lacking dicking-around-the-Internet time such as I often find at work. Which is to say, ahem, I never dick around the Internet at work, because I'm such a responsible state employee, and I actually deserve a raise for the amount of time I devote to my job, time that could be spent dicking around the Internet.

Anyway, see you on Thursday. Until I get back, here's a Westie in a baby swing:

On blogging paucity

Okay, so I do apologize for my lack of posting recently. I'm currently on self-imposed media silence until I finish the final Harry Potter book, and I have this ridiculous fear that I'm going to check Think Progress for the latest on the war in Iraq and they will have, for some reason, revealed whether Harry gets it in the end.

Right now, I'm about 200 pages from the end, at the part where they're in the room with the guy and the girl does the thing, so I should be back up to blogging speed by the end of the evening. And even though I'm not going to be so much as checking comments until then, the first person to even try and spoil it for me is getting banned, and possibly tracked down and killed.

Update: I finished it. And it was awesome.

On now being this many (and other special occasions)

Okay, so it came to my attention today that I missed a couple of very important observances in the past couple of weeks, and that I need to rectify them right away. How shameful of me to forget:

Canada Day. Michael rolled over in bed this morning, pulled the sheet modestly above his waist, and reminded me that July 1 marked the 140th anniversary of Canada's establishment as a self-governing dominion. I was so ashamed at forgetting such an important holiday that I was forced to make it up to him, at length, and then I was late for work. As an apology, allow me to direct you to this loving tribute to the fine cultural contributions of our neighbors to the north.

The Stanley Cup. Okay, I know I'm the only person here who actually watches and/or cares about ice hockey, but it's my only good source of sweaty, athletic man-violence between the Super Bowl and the college football preseason. And the Anaheim (formerly Mighty) Ducks' 6-2 victory over the Ottowa Senators in the fifth game of the championship series did, in fact, matter to me, as well as approximately six other hockey fans. Good on ya, fellas.

My own third blogiversary. That's right, my blog turned three on June 21 and I didn't even remember. This blog will be in therapy until it's thirty, and I know I'm going to be hearing about this for the next decade. "Hey, ACG, remember the time you forgot my birthday?" Anyway, in past years, I've celebrated the occasion by reviewing the past year, seeing what has changed and what hasn't, appraising the state of society and the world and stuff, and you know what? That stuff's depressing. The fact that more than a thousand US troops have died in Iraq since last blogiversary and the government still isn't any closer to anything resembling an exit strategy is depressing. The fact that the US is moving not forward but, in fact, backward on issues like reproductive freedom is depressing. The fact that Laura freaking Mallory is still obsessed with her anti-Harry Potter campaign is - there isn't even a word for it. "Depressing" falls short.

So instead of looking back, I'm going to look forward. Forward to the future. Forward to potential, to things yet to come. Forward to the next year in the life of Practically Harmless.

July 2007: The Richard Cheese Farewell Tour hits Atlanta, and you-know-who has awesome seats (hey, we're starting out slowly here. Besides, I take great pleasure in the small things).
August 2007: My department finally hires a new director, who is so entranced by my work that s/he gives me a considerable raise, allowing me to pay off my credit card, fix my car, and buy lots of shoes. Lots of shoes.
September 2007: General Petraeus gives his report on the progress of the war in Iraq. Report includes the words "punks," "ridamndiculous," "picklewipes," and "stunning - verging on criminal - lack of foresight and planning." Congress debates on whether to continue funding.
October 2007: While touring in Italy, Michael Bublé pauses onstage in the middle of "Feelin' Good" to propose marriage to Your Humble Blogger. Your Humble Blogger humbly accepts.
November 2007: Thanksgiving dinner featuring Mama G's glorious cheese grits and yet another righteous whupping of Georgia Tech by their betters.
December 2007: Can't tell you. It's a secret. But it's going to be awesome. Oh, also? Christmas.
January 2008: During State of the Union address, President Bush pronounces "nuclear" the way it's spelled. Sam Donaldson passes out from shock.
February 2008: Dick Cheney eats a baby on live TV.
March 2008: US troops capture al-Qaeda Number Two in Iraq. Over the next three weeks, US troops capture six more Number Twos and report confirmed deaths of another three. Muqtada al-Sadr laughs, eats figs, and fails to go to the dentist.
April 2008: Nancy Pelosi beats John Boehner (R-Weenie) into unconsciousness with a tube sock full of nickels on the House floor. House passes funding bill with hard benchmarks.
May 2008: President Bush vows to veto funding bill. Nancy Pelosi hunts under sofa cushions for more nickels.
June 2008: Blogiversary Number Four. Laura Mallory struck with amnesia following mysterious broom incident. World peace.

Here's to another one.

On one more thing that's naughtier than Live Free or Die Hard

Okay, so just in case you were wondering:

Mingle² - Online Dating

I'd be surprised if readership here was heavy in the under-17 category, but just to be on the safe side, parents might want to take notice. Apparently, we're using some pretty harsh language here at Practically Harmless.

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

murder (7x) ass (4x) dead (3x) bomb (2x) crap (1x)

So... naughty!

On ch-ch-changes

Okay, so WTF?!

Yeah, that. Here's what Doug says:

No, you're not on PCP -- this blog's color scheme has changed for the next few days so as to participate in the "Maroon and Orange Effect." The entire country has been invited to join this and pay tribute in a symbolic way to the kids at Virginia Tech, both those who were killed on Monday and those who survived and are soldiering on.

And I'm - what's the term? Doing that.

So-la-rex, so-la-rah.

On blogrolling and blogwhoring (which, I suppose, could be combined into "blogrollwhoring"? Yes?)

Okay, so I tweaked my blogroll a bit over the weekend, adding some new blogs I frequent, removing a few defunct ones, adding a mausoleum for the dead but glorious blogs of my blog-youth, updating links, and whatnot (especially whatnot). And now I have this deep-seated paranoia that I accidentally omitted someone important or dropped an old favorite or failed to link someone who's been kind enough to link me.

So we're going to call this Blogroll Amnesty Day Redux, except with the far more populist, small-blogger-friendly twist that I'll be adding blogs instead of dropping them for the mortal sin of not being a top-100 blog. If you've been on my blogroll but now aren't, or haven't been but want to be, or link me and haven't gotten a link in return, or just aren't feeling the reciprocal blog lovin', drop me a line in comments or shoot me an e-mail to let me know. Everyone not trying to sell me Cia!i$ and Vi@gr@ at below-pharmacy costs will get sincere consideration.

'Cause I'm cool like that.

On a simple and heartfelt request

Okay, so I'm going to go a little bit meta here, just for a minute, and address a problem I've been tracking in comments for a couple of months. I think my feelings on the subject can best be summed up thusly:

Don't be a douche, y'all.

I'll expound. Some amount of good-natured back-and-forth is to be expected on a political blog. Sometimes, ill-natured back-and-forth can be expected; politics, after all, tends to be polarizing, and people tend to be passionate about their polarized political viewpoints. And that's not a bad thing. Passionate debate is what keeps things interesting around here.

Immature and imbecilic slap-fighting, however, is not interesting in the least. It is, in fact, very, very, very very veryvery boring. And when a reasoned debate devolves into "Well, my facts are right, and yours are completely wrong" and "No, my facts are right, and yours are wrong, and you're a poop-head for believing such wrong facts," and further devolves into, "Well, you're just a stupid LIEberal!" and "Well, you're a Repukelican and you smell bad!" and "HAHAHA you can't spell!" and "You never answered my question you must be stupid LOL!!!11!!!one!" it gets so very boring so very quickly that I can't even stand it a little bit.

So please, please try to keep it civil. And if you absolutely can't keep it civil, at least try to keep it vaguely intelligent. You know who I'm talking about - and if you think I'm not talking about you, think again, because you're probably exactly who I'm talking about.

For the two-years-and-change that I've had this blog going, I've never once banned a commenter, because I'm all about the free flow of ideas (even - nay, especially - the ones I disagree with). And I still don't intend to ban anyone for expressing ideas with which I disagree or ideas that make me uncomfortable or angry. I will, however, overcome my distaste for banning if commenters persist in making me bored. Please don't let it come to that. Let's all be grownups.