That's Church

If any journalist was going to dig through the pages and pages of legal documents that were released in the Orie sisters’ indictment and find some really amazing, jaw-dropping, and downright LOL-worthy revelations, it was going to be Dennis Roddy.

So what did he find? Hold on to your chins, Burghers.

State Sen. Jane Clare Orie and her sister state Supreme Court Justice Joan Orie Melvin turned to a clairvoyant to foretell the outcome of their effort to head off a grand jury investigation that ultimately snared the senator.

That’s right. They went to a psychic/seer/mojojujuvoodoo lady to find out if they were going to be charged with crimes.

It gets better!

According to sources close to the case, the sisters sought advice from Carolann Sano of Philadelphia, a self-described “clairaudient,” who says she can channel messages from spirit guides — she refers to them as angels. Ms. Sano says that when she receives a question from a client, she speaks it aloud and hears the answer whispered into her right ear.

How freaky would it be if one day she heard the answer in her left ear?! Shudder.

The first reference to a clairvoyant crops up in a text message obtained by prosecutors, sent by Jamie Pavlot, at that time the senator’s chief of staff, just hours after a University of Pittsburgh intern abruptly resigned to protest what she said was political work on state time at the senator’s office.

The resignation set off a flurry of activity. According to documents presented by prosecutors, at 12:16 p.m. Oct. 30, according to a search warrant affidavit, Ms. Pavlot sent a text message to Ms. Orie: “Can I call the angel ladies?”

Five minutes later, a text reply came from Sen. Orie’s telephone: “Yes … jamie just be smart and careful … you can never let your guard down.”

“You can never let your guard down.” Does that mean the staff member went to the Angel Lady all, “Yeah, would you ask the angels if the Ories are going to be charged with crimes? I’m, uh, asking for a friend.”

Regardless, the Ories are going to trial and I Googled their Angel Lady:

I refer to “them” or the energies that provide these messages as Angels. Some refer to “them” as spirit guides. In any case, it is a more highly evolved intellect than humans, serving God, the universe, mankind. but it is not God. “They” are not 100% correct all the time – cannot be – only God is. These energies exist where there is no time, thus, timing can be delayed.

Boo to that! If I’m asking an angel of God a question, the angel better know what he’s talking about.

I work with my angels and guides, not yours and I work within the White Light. Always ask for the White Light of love and highest good to surround you, eliminating the possibility of negative energies attempting to confuse or discourage either of us during a session.

I saw White Light capitalized and for some reason I thought of White Snake and then my brain went to the Tawny Kitaen straddling the hood of a car video, except Tawny Kitaen was Jane Orie and now I’m all confused, disturbed and want to weep in the shower.

Note: I don’t ask about the sex of an unborn child

Well, I call freaking shenanigans on this one. We can ask the Angel Lady if our crush will call. We can ask her if we’re going to get a new job. We can ask her anything. But we can’t ask her about the sex of our unborn child. I’m guessing because she’ll only be right 50% of the time.

Here’s her disclaimer:

DISCLAIMER: The information & advice given in & through messages you receive is to be treated for entertainment purposes only.

Well, if that’s all it is then the Ories should come to me and I’d go all Psych on them for the low low price of $100 a session.

[Puts finger to temple and closes eyes] If late-80s flight attendant is the look you’re going for, well done. Also, you’re going to be tried, you’re going to be found guilty, and you’re not going to be able to get manicures in jail. I’m no angel. Welcome to hell.

Do you have any idea how badly I want to call the Angel Lady and ask, “Will I ever find my horse?”

And then when she says, “No. But don’t worry, your horse is fine and happy where it is.”

I’ll be all, “BUSTED! I don’t have a horse.”

Also, you know what Zappala is thinking in that picture up there, don’t you?

“[pew pew!]“

You know, I joke about animals as transportation, but I wouldn’t hate it if we went back to horseriding for our short trips.

Imagine a line of horses making their way across the Robert Clemente Bridge.

Imagine riding your horse to your local coffee shop and tethering it to a post before moseying in for a cup of joe.

I’d love it, Pa!

But then I think about all the horse poop and I change my mind.

Either way, the Port Authority has started their annual FREAK ALL THE COMMUTERS OUT AND BLAME IT ON THE STATE UNTIL WE GET OUR WAY shenanigans. Some highlights.

• It will now cost you more money to ride transit. A quarter of a dollar more for short trips, a hell of a lot more for rail and suburban trips. If you live in a suburb and you take the bus downtown, you’ll be looking at 8 dollars a day. EIGHT DOLLARS. A DAY. EIGHT. DOLLARS! I can hop a Westmoreland Transit bus to Market Square for five dollars a day.
• Fifty neighborhoods currently being serviced by public transportation will no longer be serviced, including East McKeesport, North Versailles, and South Park.
• Services to Robinson and Edgewood Town Centers would be gone as would some weekend rail service.
• Sixty additional neighborhoods would see a big drop in service.
• Panic would set in.
• Martial law would be established.
• A zombie uprising out of Monroeville Mall would be inevitable.
• The zombies would seek out the six-figure earning bus drivers first, figuring that people who have figured out a way to earn a hundred thousand dollars by driving a bus must have some seriously big, juicy brains.
• I would join Milla Jovovich in quashing the uprising while saying things like, “Looks like you’re low on brain power [pew pew].”
• Steve Bland would sail away in his gold plated yacht filled with the barrels of coins the Port Authority never got around to counting.

I may have made some of those up.

But seriously. We’re all going to die.

Also:

“We have no choice but to do what we’re doing,” he said. “We have no other options.”

1. Yesterday, I had a bad day. And the thing is this — I don’t often have bad days. I’m just not one of those people who wakes up some days in a bad mood for no reason and starts kicking the dogs and crying at the drop of a cup of milk.

Not that I kicked my dogs or anything, but man, I kind of wanted to. Everything made me angry and several things made me cry.

Like, do you ever bonk your head on an open kitchen cabinet and instead of just saying, “Ugh,” and closing it up before continuing on your way, every muscle and fiber of your being screams out at you to slam that motherlover shut as hard as you can, swear some really atrocious swear words, and then shoot a glass of wine at 9:30 in the morning?

THAT was what I was like yesterday.

All, “Watch out, Earth and all ye creatures and kitchen cabinets therein. I AM HAVING A BAD DAY.”

Last week, I left the microwave door open (it sits up high in my kitchen), walked by it, bonked my head on it so hard that the door slammed shut, and then almost peed my pants from laughing so hard at myself. If that microwave had accosted me yesterday, I’d be buying a new microwave today to replace the one I destroyed in a murderous, golf club-swinging Hulk-rage.

[awkward kung fu nine iron moves]

I’m feeling much better today. But I think my husband might be wondering if I need therapy.

I don’t. I just need the kitchen cabinets to effing behave themselves.

2.  Nine times out of ten, the Suckitude would probably lose to the Yankees, but here’s a way they can beat them. Led by Andrew McCutchen, the Pirates are competing against other MLB teams for a $200,000 Pepsi Refresh grant. The Pirate’s idea is to plant an urban garden in Pittsburgh and to use the garden to supply various nonprofit local agencies that feed the hungry.

It takes like half a second to vote. I timed it. I was all “One Mississ– THAT WAS FAST!”

Go vote! We might suck at baseball, but one thing Pittsburgh does not suck at is mobilizing our troops to benefit needy Burghers.

(h/t DJ)

3.  Love this from WPXI.

Naked Man Hospitalized After Oakland Window Fall

PITTSBURGH — A naked man who either fell or was pushed from a window in Oakland has been taken to a Pittsburgh hospital. Authorities said the unidentified man, who wasn’t wearing any clothes and wasn’t breathing, was found along North Craig Street late Thursday morning.

Naked in the headline. Naked in the first line. And then just in case you weren’t convinced — “who wasn’t wearing any clothes.”

In other words, NAKED.

(h/t Andrea)

4. If Mister Rogers ever fought with his wife.

(h/t Charles)

5. Dear Craigslist What The Effie, next time “ISO sandbox with lid” would really really suffice.

TMI.

(h/t Valerie)

6. This is so cool. Finding awesome, affordable uses for a giant empty community swimming pool!

7. The Sewickley Herald made it onto David Letterman for this HILARIOUS police blotter article. Check it out.

What the crap kind of “profanity” does a two-year-old know? When my kids were two, profanity would have been, “You’re a giant stupidhead and your butt smells like poop!”

(h/t Bobby)

Remember how I said that once we launched That’s Church that I quit checking my blog hits/stats?

I was dead serious. I hadn’t looked at a hit counter in well over a year and there is a wonderful, wonderful freedom in writing and not having a single clue about how many people are reading. I mean that.

But today, for some reason, I got curious and I hunted down an email Woy sent me after that post all, “You know, you CAN check your stats and this is how …”

And of course, I made a beeline to the search stats because I love to see what people are Googling before they land on my blog.

Some of the best ones:

Luke Ravenstahl Mayor of Pittsburgh Missing. Do we need an Amber Alert? A code Adam? FIND OUR LOST BOY.

Marty Griffin is an idiot. No comment.

Jennifer Antkowiak weight. Geez. First of all, RUDE. Second of all, she’s a mother of five. Give her a break.

That thing is running like a penguin. BUSTED! Hee. They remembered it EXACTLY.  Awesome.

PittGirl deaf. What?

Julie Bologna bikini. Hawt.

How much snow did Pittsburgh get. Too effing much.

Anthrocon litter box. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.

Meet and f–k furries. I REALLY DON’T WANT TO KNOW.

Animated lions and cheetahs having hardcore orgies. I am never writing about the furries again.

Here’s my nipples. No thank you.

Boil oozing a good thing. I don’t think so. Might want to have a doctor look at that.

Maggot in my toe. Seriously. YOU NEED A DOCTOR.

Oozing puss on cat back. Okay. Now you need a vet or an exorcist.

Do chickens say bawk or bock? I guess you need to ask a chicken that question.

Scott Blasey – How tall is this fine man? Had to be a drunk Google, because a sober Google would have been “Scott Blasey tall.”

Video of watching poop come out of a butt. W.T.F?

Hot Zober sex. MY MIND’S EYE! MY MIND’S EYE! IT BURNS!

So what did we learn today? We learned that chickens can have accents, that it might be a good thing if that boil on your butt starts to leak, that Scott Blasey is fine and tall, that the Furries might be weird, and that above all else, we NEVER want Yarone Zober to make a sex tape.

According to Mikey and Big Bob, Andrew Stockey’s sexy snack slip-up landed him as the “Freudian Slip of the Day” on the Jay Leno show last night.

Since it was posted by the boys over at 96.1, the clip on YouTube has garnered almost 50,000 hits and was featured on Sports Illustrated’s website. And now Jay Leno.

FAME for saying “sex.”

Somewhere, Wendy Bell is scheming on how she can accidentally have a slip up of her own.

“Our top story. Check it out. The state is looking to raise blow job taxes … I mean GAS taxes…”

“A man was arrested last night when he brawled with tits … I mean police.

“Next at five, we test out sex sex SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX! … I mean The Shark Vac.“

Or, barring that, she could just fall asleep on camera to earn 147,000 hits:

I love it that he’s sleeping while the text by his head says “Power Outages.”

That’s church.