1. There’s been a mini discussion amidst my Twitterverse about how uncool it is and how very early nineties it is that PittGirl hearts, adores, and imbibes the fantastic-osity of Zima.
Zima is delicious on a hot summer day.
Of course, I should have been tipped off to the un-coolness and unpopularity of it when I headed to the beer store on Sunday and this happened:
PittGirl: Hi! Do you have any cold Pacifico?
Beer Girl: Just one box left, but it’s not cold.
PittGirl: Hmm. I need it cold. Modelo?
Beer Girl: All out. The Mexican beers went like nuts this weekend.
PittGirl. Hmm. Zima?
Beer Girl: I got shitloads of Zima back there.
I must be keeping them in business.
2. Reader Brian tipped me off to this Ruth Ann Dailey column I missed because I still haven’t read yesterday’s PG (gasp!).
You can’t reason with them, and you can’t make them feel bad about themselves. Since what they like to do is to sow discord and control others, the only power you have is to let it go and walk away.
This line, I think I’m going to post to my dashboard the next time I want to flip off assholes like this guy:
… in the old white pickup truck that used the shoulder to drive by stopped rush hour Parkway traffic and then changed lanes in the tunnel. You guys, I chased after him for MILES to try to get a good clear picture so that I could sic the Burgh on him and that was as close as I got.
Now, I’m just going to walk away.
And hope karma shoves a boomerang up his ass.
3. I’m going to the Kenny Chesney concert on Saturday. Say what you want, but if loving Kenny Chesney (and Zima) is uncool, then … whatever. I’m still cool. Besides, I love an excuse to braid my hair and bust out my cowgirl hat. Yeeeeee-haw! (says Ken Rice).
4. The Buccos of Suckitude are actually acting like they give a damn!
When was the last time the franchise showed a competitive streak comparable to the one this edition has displayed all season?
On this day alone, these Pirates stared down and wore down the legendary Johnson, emptied their bench and bullpen when Doug Mientkiewicz and Johnson had a verbal spat, pleaded their cases passionately with the umpires, slid and dived as if it were a playoff game and, most important by far, performed at a level that made all of that energy pay off.
And this despite temperatures that touched 92 degrees.
I don’t know who this “Doug Mientkiewicz” is, but if he’s confident enough to throw down with the Big Unit, well, I’ve got my eye on him now.
Also, if the Buccos of Suckitude can’t give a .500 season, the very least they can do, is give a damn.
5. PBS says, “Hey, Mr. Rogers? Yeah, thanks for the forty years. As a gift, we’re pretty much removing you from PBS. KTHXBAI. Enjoy the grave.”
A childhood without Mister Rogers is a childhood without learning how the hell they make crayons so tasty good.
6. I can’t even write about the seven-year-old accused of killing the 10-month-old in daycare and now faces a juvenile hearing. This brain of mine won’t wrap around that, won’t even look at it. It is pretending like it never happened and is all [hands over brain matter] “LALALALALA. I can’t process you.”