Monthly Archives: June 2008

Rumble grumble.

Dear WeatherPeople of the Burgh:

I’ll believe this forecast when the sun actually shows up for more than two hours without running away screaming from the giant blackish purple clouds of doom and hail and HAHA!  Let’s go mess with PittGirl’s new Dish TV/HD set-up and show that tripod-mounted sissy satellite dish who’s boss.

I’m tired of it.

I’m tired of looking at the forecast to see that today, just today, it will storm … followed by four days of sun.  Every single day.  And the sun never comes to stay.  The forecast just keeps changing.  Oh, did we say it would be sunny on Sunday?  Yeah, that’s not happening.  But it will be sunny on Monday.  Sunday is going to be the usual hail and shit.

Oh, did we say it would be sunny on Monday?  Yeah, funny thing about Monday …

I’m tired of enjoying myself at a party, sitting outside having a nice conversation with my imaginary self-united husbands, just to look to the west and see the now commonplace ominous curtain of purple moving in rapidly — so fast that we’re suddenly pelted with mini-hail, and David Conrad grabs his book and takes off running all, “With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day.”

Daniel will look very puzzled and say, “I don’t get why you had to marry him, too.  He makes no sense. Like ever.” and then he gently picks me up and runs for cover while punting pigeons left and right and Matt jogs alongside holding the umbrella muttering, “You think he’s bad?  She’s thinking about marrying Doug Mientkiewicz, too.”

Oh.  Yes.

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Secret underthings.

Dear Ryan Malone,

I’m going to miss you,

your beautiful, puck-deflecting face,

and your silly, ever-present smile.

Also, no one would know if you wore these under your Bolts uniform.

Just sayin’.

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The post where I make fun of the Furries some more.

A comment posted to the previous Furries are Frickin’ Weird post:

I don’t attend Anthrocon because it’s on the wrong goddamned end of the country, but surfing Technorati for these kind of overblown reactions to it a lot of fun.

Here in California nerd society is what drives the economy, and nobody even blinks at these kind of conventions. Our big annual furry con, Further Confusion, is held in San Jose where it’s no secret that some of silicon valley’s biggest brains like to wear ears and tails.

If a furry con in your city is the biggest dose of weirdness you squares have ever gotten, I honestly feel kind of sorry for you!

Right, he’s just sitting there, deep in Halo, feeling very very honestly and genuinely sorry for us Burghers that look at large crowds of humans wearing full fursuits in 90 degree weather and say, “Frickin’ weirdos.”

To prove to him that I’m not a square, I’m going to make fun of the Furries some more.  Yay, me!

1.  Here’s one from KDKA:

That dog-faced bunny rabbit ate Rapunzel!

2.  The Power Rangers have really let themselves go.

3.  You might not want to look directly at this for too long because that costume could totes induce a seizure.

Somebody raided the fursuit dump.  Gawd bless America.

4.  Dear Cookie Monster:

Might want to lay off the lip collagen.

5.  Chippenbull.

Jeff Reed, is that you?!

Here’s the thing, people write and say, Hey, why hate on Furries?!  They’re just nerds.

Dudes.  I have friends that are nerds, friends that are geeks and friends that are dorks (personally, dorks are my favorite.  Srsly.), but not a single one of them uses a litter box, yiffs other furries, or plays with balls of yarn … like they mean it.

And other people write me and say, HEY! Furries are just the spice of life!

I say, no, Trekkies might be the cilantro in our pico de gallo and die-hard gamers might be the cumin in our tortilla soup, but Furries are the raisins in our spaghetti.


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Furries return. Frickin’ weirdos.

Since they adopted Pittsburgh as their hometown, we knew they would be back.  They are.  It’s still weird.

Before you Furries/animal lovers/weirdos email me to scold me that Anthrocon and its participants are not weird, please note this quote:

It’s very weird. I don’t even know how to explain how weird it is.”

Cliff Floyd on Anthrocon, a convention of furries — people who dress like humanized animals — that will be in Pittsburgh this weekend. He’s been to the city twice during the event with the Mets.

I’m sorry, weirdos, but it’s weird, this thing you do.

You’d think after the third year of seeing this, I wouldn’t be fazed/freaked/scared for my dreams anymore.

But that’s just not the case.

This fazed me, as in, gave me pause:

That middle Furry, in between the wolf and the drunk Fonzi wolf that just came from the luau?  What is he supposed to be*?  A wild boar?  Worst Furry costume EVER.  F for effort.

This freaked me out a bit:

It’s like CatWoman and Hannibal Lecter had a farsighted baby.  And the baby wants to eat me. Nom nom nom.

And this, well, I’m scared for my dreams tonight.

All this tequila + enough Sucrets to numb Shamu + that Furry = guaranteed nightmares.

I’ll never sleep again.

Unless David Conrad comes and spoon-feeds me NyQuil.

*Psst.  Yes, I’m aware that’s Big Bob from the Kiss 96.1 Freak Show.  He’s the one that sent me the picture.

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Is “stink” also a choice?

As you recall, my minions, that some he-bitch stole my purse not too long ago.

[deep calming breaths as the anger once again shoots smoke and foul language out of my ears.  I wonder if that guy has been karma-ed yet.]

Of course my drivers license was also stolen.

The necessary paperwork to get a new one is a form that must be notarized and asks the general questions.  Height?  Weight?  Gender?  How did you lose your license, ya moron?  It got stolen?  Because you left your car unlocked?  Wow.  You don’t deserve a new one. I guess we’ll send you a new one if you answer this final question about your eye color.

Blue. No, that would be Tina Fey, Ta-Ta, Pens Fan and Ohio Sister, all of whom were blessed with beautiful blue eyes.

Brown. Sure why the hell not.  Let’s go with that.  Unless brown/hazel is going to be a later option.

Green. I wish!

Hazel. Sometimes.

Pink. Wait.  What?!

The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would like to think that there are more pink eyes than there are black, grey, di-chromatic, or “other” eyes, which are the four choices that follow the “pink” option.

Do they mean this kind of pink, which is a Halloween costume accessory:

Or THIS kind of pink eye?

If they mean the diseased, conjunctivitis-ridden, yellow-crusted pink eye, then I’m very tempted to check off “Pink” and then check off “Other” and write in “also I have a sty on my eye” praying that I get my license back with “Eye color: Pink Sty.”

Who are these people with pink eyes?

I bet the scientologists have something to do with this.

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