Monthly Archives: April 2008
Some sick bastard and by sick bastard I mean “my hero” is shooting Seattle’s pigeons in the head with darts.
Someone is impaling pigeons in downtown Seattle with metal darts, and the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is putting up $2,000 to help find out who. “This is just a horrifying case,” she said. “Someone who would do this to an animal is a short step away from doing this to a human being.”
Okay, first of all, let me make it perfectly clear that I have not been to Seattle yet in my life.
Second, when I hear that pigeons are being impaled with darts through their heads, I am aware that society dictates that I be aghast and being PC dictates that I write about it and use words like “horrifying” and “deranged” and “vile monster” but instead the only words going through my head when I see this picture:
Are these words right here:
Clearly. I am a cold heartless bitch and I need therapy to get in touch with my feeeeeelings.
It’s funny as hell.
Also, when I look at that picture, I keep hearing this high-pitched voice with an English accent: “Do I have something on my head, Gov’nah?”
(h/t reader C H)
- filed under Awesome Burghers, Downtown happenings, Mayor Ravenstahl, Penguins, The Damn Pigeons, Weird Burghers
- 16 comments
1. Yellow wedge sandals in the window of Macy’s on the Fifth Avenue corner. Must own. Will own.
2. To the attractive blond lady, late 30s, in the long lime green coat, downtown. Yesterday afternoon, I saw you hunch down to put out your cigarette on the sidewalk and then run over to the trashcan to throw it away before you breathlessly hopped on your bus. Normally, to me, smoking sucks about 50% of the hot out of a person. But I want you to know that at that moment, I could not have found you more attractive. PittGirl loves you. You’re the next Awesome Burgher and your crown is in the mail. And by crown I mean a kiss of thanks on your cheek for setting an example for others.
3. Mark Spector from The National Post up there in Canada called Gary Robert (sic) “irrelevant” and tried to insinuate that the reason the Pens are winning is because Gary Roberts is not playing.
That sound you hear is thousands of WWGRD rubber bracelets being violently shot at Mark Spector’s groin area.
4. Mark Spector also wrote:
True story: A Pittsburgh TV crew was in a taxi on the way to the morning skate when their cabbie nearly sideswiped a BMW. At the next light, the BMW driver got out, ripped open the cabbie’s door, and punched him right in the face. “It was unbelievable,” said the camera guy. “And I’m asking him, ‘Hey, is the meter still running?'”
5. A councilman in Farrell asked if super low baggy pants could be considered indecent and it made front page news there, enough so that they sent poor David Highfield out to interview some kids trying to play basketball in their saggy pants. While it’s surprising that it made the news, that’s not my point. My point is this. Is that kid’s belt around his KNEES?
That is so ridiculous. Before you know it, girls will be wearing their bras as belts and their underwear as hair scrunchies. Kids these days.
GET OFF MY LAWN!
6. The Angry Drunk Bureaucrat is in fine form with this line from his recent post about the foreclosure “crisis.”
Certainly it is not TIME TO CRACK EACH OTHERS SKULLS OPEN AND FEAST ON THE GOOEY MATTER INSIDE.
I don’t know if it is the word “gooey” or the image of zombies or the use of the giant capitals or what, but that line makes me laugh every time I read it.
7. My new favorite name from the Random Name Generator:
That sounds like a good name for my next dog. I’m assuming dogs such as my current ones, that eat poop and drink pee, don’t live very long. I could be wrong. Also, suddenly it has dawned on me why their breath is so horribly face-meltingly rancid. Duh and ew!
8. Facebook friend Julia wrote:
“I wanted to let you know that on my way to work this morning, I almost kicked a pigeon. Almost… it flew away before I would’ve walked into it.”
Oh, Julia. You’re obviously NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH! Tsk.
9. That is quite a fine “handsome young man” there. If you can look at picture one and not laugh out loud, could you please tell me how you do that? Do you think about dead puppies or grandma boobies or Lukey or something?
There are certain things you shouldn’t have to see before 9:00 a.m.
An empty cup of coffee.
An email from your boss.
A clearly wasted, partying hard in Vegas Jeff Skippy Skeeve Foul Dwarf Reed wearing any of the following: A tiara, a slut, a taffeta sash, or a bib that says, “I [heart] dick.”
I bet Franco Harris has never worn a bib that says “I [heart] dick” and allowed his photo to be proudly snapped. I bet there is no woman with a picture of a very naked Lynn Swann showing off his steely mcbeam in her shower.
Look. Yes. Life is great when you’re a rich Steeler. You’re only human. You’re a man. With wants, needs, faults. Women throw themselves at you, even when you’re a dwarf as foul as Jeff Reed. The women still want you. YOU’RE ONLY HUMAN! I get it. But must your faults and missteps and sexual conquests be so diligently and widely documented?
Stop BEING GIANT NASTY SMELLY DOUCHE BAGS convinced that this newfangled digit-all camera technology doesn’t really take your picture in a manner that allows it to be almost instantly uploaded to the masses so that they can point at you and likely scream in horror.
Keep it in your pants. Grow up. Don’t get wasted in public. Don’t beat up the mother of your children. Do realize that part of being an over-paid professional athlete means that you need to operate with a different set of morals than you would perhaps live by were you not a Steeler. So that the gazillions of kids that idolize you don’t ever Google your name and accidentally stumble across a high-res picture of your donkey omelets and your “tree trunk dong” (tm Mikey from KISS 96.1 in an email to me).
(h/t photos from Jim, story from Mikey from The Freakshow, Father Spoon who wrote “people probably thought it was Mario Lopez’s mentally challenged brother”, and DW)
1. A conversation between PittGirl and Sister of PittGirl:
[picking up a copy of James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces that is lying on Sister of PittGirl’s table] What’s this, Sister of PittGirl?
Oh, PittGirl, that is a great book about —
It’s lies, you know? All lies.
I know, but some of it is based in fact and–
Lies, I tell you. All lies!
But it’s a really good book and —
I know. I read it.
Oh. Ok. So you know that it —
LIES! ALL LIES!
I love to mess with her. So fun.
2. If it snows in late April/practically May, almost killing the Hibiscus planter you left outside thinking it was, I don’t know SPRING!, after you shake a fist at the weather gods, you should be allowed to sic a rabid starving pigeon on any person that dares to breathe a word about “global warming” unless that person says specifically, “Global warming, my ass.”
3. Does anyone have a good picture of Jim Lokay (fanclub = 77 members) that I can superimpose the word FAIL on his forehead? My Facebook fan club currently has 301 members and NONE of them are people that I made up out of thin air with the Random Name Generator.
How long before I can overtake that world-famous Burgher iJustine (164 fan club members but over 1,000 supporters)?
I know. Never.
Darn you, iJustine and your hot nerdy hotness.
Also, if I HAD used the Random Name Generator, these are the names I would pick:
There are just not enough people in the world named Ormerod. I think I’ll name my mp3 player Ormerod. Wait, scratch that. Diggory Ormerod Coveney. Yeah. Solid. Sounds like the kind of guy that Saucy Carmiesha Juicy would show her thong to.
Ok. I’m trying not to judge, I am. But, you know what sucks? My sister and brother-in-law are going through the process to adopt a foster child. In order to become a foster parent/adopt a foster child you have to go through this insanely rigorous process that includes hours and hours of classes, CPR training, home visits, a medical physical, criminal history checks, etc. You even have to have a fire escape plan posted in your house! So my sister basically has a piece of paper near her stairs that says, “Turn around. The door is RIGHT. THERE!”
But any loser with a couple million good swimmers with a hankering for eggs can bring a child into a life where “420” rules.
Like, way to advertise it, dad.
I am a well known member of the local bdsm community and by escorting me to various functions you will gain acceptance more quickly within the community along with being invited to attend various functions and private parties.
Well, aren’t we all looking to get ahead in the local BDSM community?
Also? Is it really that hard to gain acceptance in the local BDSM community? Don’t you just show up and say, “I’m a freak!” and they start hugging you?
I think I might need to become less of an innocent, eh? And DEFINITELY less judgmental of the freaks.
I’m kidding! Don’t write me, yo.
I love Back to You. There. I said it. Whatever.
I love looking out for those Burgh references and in the episode two weeks ago in which the sportscaster Marsh (the incomparable Fred Willard) threw a surprise birthday party for the Kelsey Grammer/Ken Rice [snicker] character (a party that was sponsored by Schwatz Beer, no less) I caught two things:
A Pittsburgh Passion t-shirt:
And a Pittsburgh Xplosion t-shirt:
And, I also happened to read what Rob Owen said:
If only they’d get rid of the show’s biggest misstep, the news director character, Ryan (Josh Gad), who is written as an over-the-top, unrealistic newsroom leader.
I LOVE Josh Gad and his portrayal of Ryan, the overweight, lovable, sweaty news director. He has me in stitches every episode with his delivery of the most basic of lines. And. AND he’s a CMU alum (h/t Sonni Abatta)!
Here’s a scene that I loved in that same episode after Ryan had accidentally stumbled across the disturbing bedroom of sportscaster Marsh and his sexaholic wife Peg:
“I think my face is going to melt.” HAH!
So my point is this, Rob Owen, take your stupid WRONG opinion and shove it up y-…
Just kidding! Seriously though, stop being mean and WRONG.
Leave Josh alone or there might be an Annoying Burgher “crown” in your future.