Boy, NaBloPoMo ended and everything here just kind of went to hell, huh?

  • Our skis are in the shop. It’s only a matter of time.
  • Mrs. Crappy had back-to-back god-awful-early shifts at her paper on Friday and Saturday morning, so on her way home Friday, she called and suggested that I get the hell out of the house, because she would be in bed by 9 p.m. and therefore not a whole lot of fun. Things came together quickly and I ended up having dinner with Brother Anthony and AAA at Tom’s Diner in Dormont (waaaaaaaay better than the South Side location, which seems to be filled with grumpy employees and disappointing food) and then spent the night bowling at Dormont Lanes in the closest thing I could find to an ugly Christmas sweater. I hadn’t bowled in years, and was surprised that I remembered how (to the degree that I knew how before). I have some pictures from the bowling that I’ll post this week; Rob’s pix are most definitely better.
  • We have a tree! Instead of futzing around with lots in the city or farms we know nothing about, we headed back to our usual lot — Horner’s, in Hooker (look it up) when Mrs. Crappy was done with work on Saturday morning. Except that Horner’s was no longer operating in their front yard; they had set up in a parking lot next to the Spillway Bar instead. As usual, we found a perfect tree at a great price right away, but we were bummed to hear that the family that runs the farm was probably retiring after this year. That sucks, for us at least — with the exception of the gas-station tree I bought the year I moved to Butler and last year’s pretty-much-dead tree from that lot in Emsworth, each of our Christmas trees have come from Horner’s. If you have a recommendation for next year, I’d be happy to hear it.
  • The rest of Saturday. Was. Extremely. Lazy. Naps. Army-Navy. More naps. Etcetera.
  • We didn’t have to brave the Black Ice Of Doom this morning, so Mrs. Crappy made an improvised frittata out of all the milk, bread and toilet paper we didn’t actually need. We ate and we had fun watching the disaster coverage on the news all morning.
  • I am making it my personal mission to strike the term “black ice” from the English language.
  • The important news of the weekend: Because Tim Tebow kind of sucked this year — at least by Saint Tebow standards — Archie Griffin, pictured above, is still the only two-time Heisman Trophy winner ever. And I’d like to thank Mr. Tebow for that.


  1. I hate Black Ice too. Usually only Candy Ass weather people who don’t live in real snow cities talk about it. That’s usually all they talk about.

    Try living somewhere like freakin’ Erie or Syracuse.

    Imma say it again. Candy Asses.


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