So, it took me 1.5 hours to drive home tonight. It’s normally a 30 minute drive. Yuck.

Keep your foot off the brake. Steer in the direction of the skid. That is what I kept reminding myself.

That’s hard to do when the direction of the skid is the same direction that will lead you into a line of cars, or into a snowy ditch. But that’s the way it is.

This ice is on the inside of the door to the balcony, which is frozen shut. I am cold. I hate this weather. I hate the winter. I hate these goddam mountains.

Last night we went to see Sugarland, which was boss* because Jennifer Nettles is only my favorite singer since, like, forever, except of course for Shakira.

We had great seats, unexpectedly, since we thought we would be way in the back as usual, but instead we were like 10 feet from the stage among the very rich, and very excited, and very drunk (and also some elderly and dozing) set of fans.

And when I wasn’t being knocked in the head by the flailing arms of my enthusiastic seat neighbor, I broke it down. It was a grizzeat show.

Also, I would like to mention that I am impressed by the clothes that country stars get to wear. Particularly cowboy boots, the purchase of which I think will be my third and probably final** capitulation to Southwest Virginia culture.

Because after cowboy boots, what else is left? Cowboy boots are the final frontier, except for rhinestone belt buckles which I think even country stars do not wear off stage.

*this is a slang term I am popularizing via my groundbreaking blog
** 1st capitulation: listening to country music
2nd capitulation: purchase of climate killing 4WD vehicle and obsession therewith

I spend my entire life trying to write artist’s statements, which is absurd. I have to stop thinking about this before I lose my mind. I have therefore pared down my artist’s statement to the following:

There is already enough bad art in the world, and I do not plan to make any more of it.

Right now, I am not adding the following, which means that my value system is strong:

(Unless by doing so I can make a lot of money.)

I am not, nor have I ever been, what you might call “a morning person.” It is generally best to leave me alone until I am fully awake.

Apparently yesterday morning I participated in the following conversation which involved Yours Truly being awoken from a sound sleep at an ungodly hour.

Time: 6 AM
Location: Bedside
Her: I think I have broken the coffee pot.
Me: AAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!

It’s sad, really. Like an addiction.

This evening we will be speaking with Mr Inman, who braved freakish blizzard conditions all across the southern states to come down to the studio. We understand that he has been enjoying several fine examples of modern day American cultural achievement in the arenas of film and teenybopper literature. And now we will find out his precious opinions on these topics.

Mr Inman, how was The Black Book, Diary of a Teenage Stud Vol I Girls, Girls, Girls?

Katie, it was extremely readable. I think I have found a new love in Young Adult serial romance novels.

And what did you think of Eating Out?

Katie, I thought it was hugely enjoyable. Isn’t it interesting how fag hags in movies always look like Tori Spelling?

And what did you think of Snippet’s medication?

Well, Katie, I have to say I was surprised how readily she ate both kinds of it.

Mr Inman, we’d like to thank you for coming down to the studio today, what with all the inclement weather warnings causing school closures all across the region.

You’re welcome, Katie. Fortunately my 4WD Vehicle to Inches Snowfall ratio was 0:0.

That’s all we have time for, folks.