Four New Reasons I’m Not Bitter AT ALL: Clio Cloud Conference, 2018

You might remember around this time last year I talked a little bit about a conference full of lawyers in New Orleans, Louisiana who were gathering to trade practice tips and, I assume, laugh at all of us peons in the workaday world of shit law through their crystal glasses of champagne or whatever.  You can read why I was totally not bitter at all about not going to New Orleans last year to rub elbows with the hobknobbery of the legal world here. Or you can just hang around on the site for about a minute or two because, once again, while the “who’s who” of the legal online world are gathered in the land of beignets and booze, I’m sitting at my desk drinking some horrible faux Dunkin Donuts bullshit and spending a morning being completely not bitter at all about not attending.  Seriously you guys, not bitter AT ALL.

Motherfuckers.

So excuse me as I top off my cup of coffee that’s exactly as bitter as I am not, at this moment, being.  Give me a moment to suck on some lemons, just to get the morning off to the right start.  Take a second to breathe as I shove a chaw of unsweetened cocoa powder into my upper lip like the chewing tobacco of the totally and completely not bitter at all attorneys of the world.  And let’s look at why it’s actually a good thing that I’m not attending the Clio Cloud Conference in New Orleans for the 2018 year yet fucking again.

NO BITTERNESS AT ALL FOLLOWS

An Open Letter To My Neighbor About Their Fireworks

Dear Neighbor,

Hello.  You probably know me as the pissed off looking guy with a cane you tend to see furtively smoking cigarettes in his porch chair while wearing a suit in the late evening hours.  You often may ask yourself “why is he always wearing a suit” and “why do I never see him before 7 p.m. at night?”  The answer to that question is that I’m an attorney, and I tend to get up pretty early in the morning to head to my office.  I also only really return home at night after all my work is done.  You see, it isn’t that I’m not sociable, it’s just that I’m tired and those early evening hours, when I’m sitting on the porch and enjoying a glass of whiskey and some nicotine, are about the only quiet moments I get in a life full of kids, dogs, and legal bullshit from other people in the area.

And that’s sort of why I want to talk to you today, because, see, getting up early in the morning and shit tends to mean that I go to bed early at night.  Like, not at 7:30 p.m. or something, but at a respectable hour. You know, maybe 9:30 or 10:00.  Not “Grandma’s bed time” but not too far off.  Early to bed and early to rise and all that.  Except, lately, I’ve been finding it to be hard to get to sleep at night.  Because it’s summer, and you’ve found out the fireworks stands are open.

Continue reading “An Open Letter To My Neighbor About Their Fireworks”