That's Church

1. So I had a thought and I’m going to share it with you. Ready?

I was watching a boxing match on HBO this weekend and I wondered why other one-on-one sports don’t do the whole pre-bout hooplah that professional boxing does. For instance, wouldn’t it be awesome if there were player introductions in professional tennis matches? The announcer would be all, “In this court, playing out of Melbourne, Australia and weighing in at 185 pounds with a blistering serve of 142 miles per hour …” and the whole time this is going on, the player’s entourage, all wearing matching Evian shirts or Rolex shirts, are standing behind the player nodding very seriously into the camera while making the “we’re number one” finger point, maybe hoisting the player’s most recent trophy for all to see. Rubbing the player’s shoulders. Pumping him or her up.

Genius, yes?

2. I didn’t know this until reader Zachary pointed it out to me, but they remade Ice Castles in 2010?! I hope the ghost of Collen Dewhurst terrorized the shit out of those involved in this sacrilegious travesty.

3. If you haven’t seen this yet, Pittsburgh photographer Aaron Hobson has combed through, gosh, probably thousands and thousands of miles of Google Street View images and discovered that there is beauty to be found in the space between the boring grey cement.  Here’s just a snip of one, but you must click and see the rest.

Stunning.

(h/t Jennifer)

4. This doesn’t have anything to do with Pittsburgh but I’m sharing it because 1. reader Aubrey who sent it to me directed her email to Mrs. Self United Conrad-Lamanna-Sepulveda-Manganiello and 2. I really wish someone in Pittsburgh would do this because it is AWESOME and 3. I’m just going to say this — 1:08. 1:08. 1:08. ONE MINUTES AND EIGHT SECONDS IN IS WHEN THE CRAZY HAPPENS!

5. Would Mrs. Conrad-Lamanna-Sepulveda-Manganiello-Montanez be too presumptuous of a personalized stationery?

6. [Adds "Mrs. Conrad-Lamanna-Sepulveda-Manganiello-Montanez stationery" to Christmas wish list]

7. If you’re in Eat n’ Park anytime soon, you’ll want to purchase a $2 raffle ticket to win a new Ford Focus (Hey, husband! Say “focus” for me!) with all proceeds going to the Caring for Kids Campaign which raises money for Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh. SICK KIDS!

8. I love Pittsburgh Dad so much. Here’s the latest episode, a special Thanksgiving treat!

True story, my father spent a good portion of his life in those glasses and has been known to tuck a sweater into jeans.

And the true belly laugh is the “get nice and bonkers and play a little game called ‘Which One of Us Can Break Something First.’”

Man, I rocked at that game when I was younger.

9. A little conversation with my mother:

My phone: RING RING, BITCH.

Me: Hello.

Mom: Hey, honey! I’m thinking about the Christmas gifts for the kids and have you heard about this Cyber Day thing?

Me: Yep.

Mom: Okay. I’m on Amazon.com. How do I do this?

Me: [headdesk]

Bunch of phone calls and minutes later

My phone: RING RING, BITCH. IT’S YOUR MOTHER AGAIN LOL.

Me: Hello?

Mom: Okay, I can’t figure out how in the world I add something to my cart. You need to come over here.

Me: Mom, do you see that big yellow button that says “Add to Cart”?

Mom: Yes.

Me: Click it.

Mom: [silence] Oh! I did it!

Me: [headdesk]

Bunch of minutes and phone calls later

My phone: LOLOLOLOLOL!

Me: Hello?

Mom: Can you come over here and complete this purchase for me?

Gotta love my Mom.

10. What They’re Really Thinking will be up later tonight, once I’ve digested the fact that Tyler Freaking Palko almost beat us.

Yes, Pittsburgh. I attended yesterday’s game, the first game I’ve gone to in a while on account of I’m a baby about being cold. I’m already cold in general as I’m one of those people who is most comfortable when it’s a hazy, hot, humid 99 degrees outside, so sitting outside in the freezing Pittsburgh winter for four hours isn’t really my idea of fun.

I prefer to sit on my couch with my family around me where I can jump up and down and swear and high-five my father and then apologize for the swearing and then swear some more.

But the opportunity to be in the same stadium as Tom Brady and to evil eye him until I got a migraine? To hex him with words I learned in MacBeth? To stab the huevos of his voodoo doll while I have mine eyes upon him? WORTH THE SHIVERS. My hate for Tom Brady and Bill Belichick is beyond biblical. They’d need to add an amendment after Revelations to cover this kind of hate.

I bundled up and I marched to Heinz Field, stopped briefly at the tailgate where the Mexicans, including my husband, were warm with tequila (TEQUILA! Let’s do a shot every time I write “tequila.” TEQUILA!), met Janelle Hall for a hot minute (She is super fine. Holy moly. Gorgeous. I told her so. Then I told her to step off Daniel Sepulveda. Just in case.) and headed into the stadium to get to work on Tom Brady as my pre-stated goal was to have him growing a nipple on his forehead by the fourth quarter.

When asked about my promise at the pregame presser, Tom was his usual douchy self:

They tried to ask Bill Belichick about it, but he was mum:

Let’s talk football and satisfying wins!

1. Heath Miller had a ridiculously monster first quarter, with what seemed like five catches in the first drive alone. Heath over the middle. Heath over the middle. Heath over the middle. Again and again. He is Chewbacca; hear him ARRRRRRAAA.

2. The entire first quarter and much of the second quarter was just beautiful football and it felt so good to be out in front of the hated Patriots early. And they are HATED. I have never heard so many insults thrown at one person as were thrown at Bill Belichick throughout the entire game.

I tweeted this yesterday, but there was a man sitting behind me and he looked like your dad. Gray hair. Early 60s. Wedding ring. Not even a HINT of yinzer in him. Looked like a business man wearing dockers and a jacket. Very distinguished. At one point when Belichick was arguing a call, screaming on the sidelines at the ref, this man stood up and yelled at the top of his completely sober lungs: “Belichick! You son of a bitch! You’re a piece of shit! I hate you, ya cheating mother*@^#er!”

And I laughed. And I wanted to hug that dad.

And that’s how it went the whole game. Constant trash talking toward Belichick:

And I know what the Pats fans will say. “Stay classy, Pittsburgh.”

You know what’s not classy? Cheating.

Bazinga.

3. I did love watching Troysus on two particular tackles. The one of Wes Welker when Troysus knocked him into 2012, to which the dad behind me screamed, “YOU STAY DOWN! YOU STAY DOWN, WELKER!”

And the tackle where he rode Gronkowski like he was comin’ ’round the mountain.

Clearly my hex was working.

4. The thing I could not hex was the Patriots’ O-line because other than the few times we got to him, Tom Brady was rarely hurried and at one point, he just stood as still as a statue in the pocket, waiting for a receiver to get open. He almost always had all day to throw the ball. That pissed me off so bad. I hexed harder.

5. The Duke of Fug and the Earl of Gross had a stellar game, didn’t buckle under pressure other than that pesky interception that made me all “SON OF A BITCH,” and generally just controlled a great portion of the game and the clock.  He is doing his best to make me not hate him.

Because if we lost to the Patriots at a game I attended due to a Benny interception? They’d have to amend the Bible AFTER the Tom Brady Book of Hate.

Oh, wait! I forgot about that one 3rd and 3, I think it was, pass to GOD KNOWS WHO IN THE ENDZONE. Maybe Casper? Maybe a fan in the stands? Giving the Patriots the ball and a small glimmer of hope to win the game.

That made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Luckily it was hot chocolate.

6. Hines who?

[ducks]

Nine receivers had catches and Antonio Brown was all over the place. So, really, Hines who?

[ducks] [pops up and throws rotten eggs]

7. I did not get to see Daniel Sepulveda punt until the very very last seconds of the game. Yay for the Steelers that they didn’t need him. But BOO FREAKING HOO FOR ME.

8. Suisham is making me all nervous anymore, you guys. First with the wonky kickand then I knew he was going to miss the 42-yarder.

I said it to my husband. “He is going to miss this.”

My husband said, “There’s no wind. He’s got this.”

I said, “He’s going to miss it. I can’t watch.” I covered my eyes.

He said, “Oh. He missed it.”

I said, “Scream ‘focus, Suisham’ for me.”

It’s a miracle my real husband puts up with me.

Also, if we lost this game by three points or less, they would have had to just write a new bible all about hate, rage, smiting, and forehead nipples.

9. The last few minutes of the game, when it looked like we would win, but that there was still a chance Tom could pull a victory out with one nice long pass, I was shivering and it wasn’t because I was cold. It was stress. Pure stress and the exertion of hexing. All of my muscles were tight and aching. My stomach was roiling at the prospect, however small, of leaving the stadium with a loss and no nipple on Tom Brady’s forehead.

Then Brett Keisel performed a miracle and Troysus saw the miracle and he punched that miracle into the endzone.  Ziggy Hood ran down the miracle, scooped it into his arms, and SAFE-TYYYYYYYYYY!

CHAOS IN THE STADIUM! The dad behind me was screaming “YES, YES, YES, YOU MOTHERF*#@ERS!”

I was jumping up and down and hugging my real husband for joy. Not just joy that we won. But joy that it was the hated Patriots we beat. The demons were slayed. Good killed evil. And most importantly, the hex worked.

You’re welcome.

Also, YOU TRY TO PUT A NIPPLE ON A FOREHEAD IN MS PAINT!

This was the best game I could have chosen to attend and I’m so so glad I did.

However, next week is going to be just as much a battle. We have the Ravens (spits) and we’re facing them without Woodley and possibly without Hines or James Harrison or Farrior and more.

I wonder if I can get a foot to grow out of Ray Lewis’ butt.

TEQUILA, TEQUILA, TEQUILA!

1. This is an actual page from my little niece’s Christmas book. It is the first page, to be exact:

Hee. I’m twelve.

2. This is really cool. Penny Postcards from 1917 that show what your town looked like then! Search by state, then county, and then pick a town near you.

Here’s Fifth Avenue:

It’s so sad, but I can’t read that handwriting because IT IS TOO NEAT.

I can’t decode that shit.

(h/t my Dad)

3. Boo and Brew is a fun event of North Shore bar-hopping in costume and it all benefits the Make-A-Wish Foundation!

If you go as a slutty turtle, I will disown you.

4. Next week, I’ll be giving away two tickets to this Steelers autograph session that features Mike Wallace and an open bar and Mike Wallace and some other Steelers and appetizers and Mike Wallace. $250 value! And it all benefits CASA, a great organization.

5. Here’s a video in which Daniel Sepulveda is heavily featured starting at 4:20. We learn that Daniel wears glasses. Daniel has amazing arm muscles that beg to be circled and smiley faced in MS Paint. Daniel was a cute kid. Daniel loves Jesus. And at 9:40, Daniel reveals his hidden talent:

He can juggle. He’s just rubbing it in now. Juggling is impossible when you have an inner ear thing.

(h/t Rachel)

6. This has made my day. My heart is happy. I want to hug things. The Princess Bride cast reunion photo!

I spy an R.O.U.S. too!

I’m going to say something that is going to offend some of you: The Princess Bride is my Star Wars.

[ducks]

Buttah-cup!

[ducks again]

Have fun stormin’ the castle!

[throws iocane powder at the Star Wars fanatics]

(h/t Susan)

7. Criminals are criminals because they are stupid.

Police have charged two men they said used stolen firefighter radios to plan the theft of fresh batteries from a Logan Township fire station.

Blair County 911 alerted Logan Township police just before 2 a.m. Oct. 5 that two radios stolen earlier from the Martinsburg Volunteer Fire Department went live at just before 11 p.m., and at about 1:30 a.m., dispatchers listened as two men discussed driving to the Newburg Volunteer Fire Department to recharge the batteries, police said.

On the bright side, their butts didn’t dial 911 on them.

(h/t Sue)

8. What? These shoes?

Oh, nothing. Just painted by a HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR!

You must go check out the other Burghy shoes painted by Chartiers Valley HS Senior Alexa Vercammen.

She is seriously talented and now I hate all my shoes.

I watched this game at Las Velas where my husband put me to work yesterday painting and cleaning, which, SO MUCH FUN IN A NOT FUN IN ANY FUN WAY WAY.

A picture-perfect Pittsburgh day for football. Sunny. Warm. Hopeful that we would turn things around after last week’s suckfest of sucking suck. Suck.

Let’s talk football and butt noms in non-chronological order!

1. After giving up 3,244 sacks last week, the O-line only allowed one single sack on The Duke of Fug and the Earl of Gross yesterday, thanks in part to Max Starks rejoining the team.

Max was never that awesome of an O-line player, but it’s amazing how much better he plays now that he’s properly motivated.

2. Hines Ward, that geriatric oldster who is younger than me, suddenly plays football again! Suddenly he’s smiling again! Suddenly he’s reminding everyone that he still exists. At one point, he got a little too cocksure (I don’t know if I used that correctly, but, damn, that’s a fantastic word) about his abilities and he did it in Donkey from Shrek fashion.

Yes, the important thing is that Hines Ward can still catch.

Also important, cocksure is a fantastic word.

3. The Duke of Fug and the Earl of Gross deserves the additional title of Prince of Cocksure because after that performance, he can be as cocksure as he wants to be. So long as he doesn’t whip it out in public.

As I was saying, Benny did good. Five touchdowns. One interception that we will now generously neuralyze from our memories. He also did a good job of getting rid of the ball quickly when things got dire.

So selfless of The Duke, Earl, and Prince.

4. Defensively, we’re playing without our Chief of Up Effing, James Harrison, but Woodley, who again I remind you calls himself The Pharoah, which: COCKSURE, stepped in nicely with a sack and an interception.

I’m sure our opposing offensive lines are going to enjoy these few weeks’ reprieve from having the literal poop beat out of them by James Harrison, but really he’s just going to save up all of his anger and aggression, storing it like a rabid squirrel until …

5. And that’s all I want to talk about. See you next week. BYE NOW.

[blink]

KIDDING!

Let’s talk about the most important part of the game! The only part that really matters! The most orgasmic play you have ever seen! The play for the history books! The play for the Hall of Fame! THE PLAY FOR WORLD PEACE.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

When this play happened, when Daniel faked the punt and then took off running like the most beautiful quarterback since Keanu Reeves, I audibly gasped.

My paint brush froze. A drop of paint fell to the ground with a gentle plop that might as well have been cannon fire. It echoed in my ears.

I held my breath.

My husband realized I had froze. That paint was dripping to his floor. He asked if I was having a stroke. I asked him to say “focus.’

I tensed.

The ball was thrown.

“Oh please, oh please,” I whispered.

I prayed.

Then … completion for a first down!

The Titans are stunned. Confused.

I went into football-gasm mode. Running around the restaurant while my husband dialed 911 to report my stroke.

Ahhhhhhhh!

WHOA!!!!

OMG OMG OMG!!!!

HE DID IT!

HE DID IT!

HE DID IIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew!

Do you have a cigarette I could borrow?

Step off.

You know it’s a bad game when the opposition has so many sacks, so many knock downs, so many hurries, so many things to be visibly happy about, that they have to invent new ways to celebrate.

After the standard kung fu kick celebrations and ball spiking celebrations and end zone group jump celebrations, they whipped out these bad boys:

Celebrity impressions!

Movie reenactments!

They even managed to get their coach and some of the Steelers to take part in the movie reenactments!

Zombies!

Music!

Mimes!

It got so bad at one point that they became confused as to which celebration they were supposed to be doing:

Poor Benny.

He went from semi-lucid:

To Serene Branson:

To possum:

Awful.

And that’s all we’re going to talk about. I’m not going to go blow-by-blow.

This game sucked on a new level of suck previously undiscovered by scientists with PhDs in Suck. They watched this game and they were all, “EUREKA!”

Fs for everyone! Frowny face brownies made from cow poop for everyone! Stink-eyes for everyone!  Putrid farts in the general direction of everyone!

Except you, Daniel. Let’s hug.