Monthly Archives: August 2008
I planned to shut up about Sonni Abatta’s nose job or lack thereof because while she is a TV personality choosing to be in the public eye, I figured that I mentioned she looked different and now she deserves to just do her job.
Secondly, whatever changed, she still looks hot and from what I know from people that know her, she is a kind, genuine, funny, wonderful person and I don’t want to give her any stress with this, right?
Q: What’s up with Sonni Abatta? She looks — different — and I can’t quite place it. I know she was off for a couple of weeks on, ummmm, “vacation” — but something tells me, as the side by side pic shows — that something is “different.”
— Rob, Jefferson Hills
Rob: I feel for Abatta and now know what it must have been like for women to live through the Salem Witch Trials. One person (in this case, Pittgirl) yells “Witch!” (in this case, intimations that led her minions to exclaim, “Nose job!”) and suddenly everybody and his brother is seeing witches (a nose job).
First, “minions.” Awesome.
Second, I’m on a witch hunt? He’s comparing one side-by-side photo to the SALEM FRICKIN’ WITCH TRIALS!?
People. No such thing happened. What happened was I suddenly had a bazillion emails about it and craploads of hits to the site from non-readers Googling Sonni Abatta nose job. Sonni Abatta appearance. Sonni Abatta looks different. Sonni Abatta face.
So I wondered what was up, I investigated and checked out recent video and lo and behold, she did look different!
So I posted about it.
Rob Owen got the order wrong. I’m not on a witch hunt. I didn’t yell witch. I noticed some search activity and email activity and brought it up. The questions about her appearance were happening before I ever posted on it.
So while he was just a few minutes ago on my good side because he wrote about two of my husbands, he’s back on the dark side and I might sic the Dread Lord on him. He’s the next Annoying Burgher and his crown is in the mail, and by crown I mean a bitch-slap from Saucy because she is all, “Girl! I KNOW you gonna let me choke THIS bitch for you!”
And that, my friends, is church.
The ACLU is suing (shocking!) because Adams Township is blocking a woman from opening a fitness club that will focus on the sexy. Belly dancing. Pole dancing. Sexxxxxxxxxxxercise. I may have added an extra x in there. They are doing this because they classify her business as an “Adult Business.”
I have written about this type of class before. Kelly Frey has done the bow-chicka-bow herself before. This is not news, really, and absolutely she should be allowed to open her gym/club/joint/sexyplace if she so desires.
The reason I’m writing this post is that this woman will also be offering a class in Stiletto Strut, and well, what the hell is THAT?
So I did some research and apparently there are women, NON STRIPPER WOMEN, who will pay real actual money to exercise in four-inch pencil-thin heels.
Think I’m lying? The proof, my friends:
Here’s the thing. I know how to walk in heels without looking like a dinosaur on meth, but never will you see me standing on a hardwood floor in front of a wall of mirrors, dressed in a yoga outfit and some do-me boots all, “Exercise time!” because I am keenly aware that it can’t be good for my feet or for the curvature of my spine.
Nor will you ever see me putting stilettos on to workout with WiiSteve because I imagine the second I stepped onto Fitty with those shoes he would be all, “OW!” or maybe he would be all, “Yeah, baby. That feels goooood.”
I wouldn’t put it past Fitty to be a sick bastard.
The Post-Gazette’s Rob Owen knew his name was going to be here this morning and the reason he knew that is that he got very smartypants and put two, yes TWO, of my self-united husbands in his column today. Surefire PittGirl shout-out.
First, let’s get my brainylove Matt out of the way.
Matt Lamanna, assistant curator of vertebrate paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History, will be featured on History Channel’s “Evolve: Flight” (10 p.m. Tuesday)
So, you know, set those Tivos, Burghers and watch it with me.
Now, the juicy stuff is of course about my first and bestest husband and my future best friend and coffee companion David Conrad:
“Ghost Whisperer” spoiler alert: Entertainment Weekly reports that Pittsburgh native David Conrad will finally get something to do on the CBS series, but only after his character is killed off. Presumably he’ll stick around to haunt Jennifer Love Hewitt
1. When I had lunch with David Conrad (SHUT UP, PITTGIRL! There, I said it for you.) I told him in no uncertain terms that I never watched Relativity, that was Tina Fey’s obsession, that I never caught a single episode of Miss Match, because I have no excuse, and that I have only watched a smattering of minutes of The Ghost Whisperer, because that show gives me epic heebie jeebies.
HOWEVER, the chance to watch Sir Conrad actually use his massive chops of acting and get to emote and bleed and DIE?! Oh, heck yes. I’ll be watching.
I want to see pain. I want to tears. I want to see Jennifer Love Hewitt rip his shirt asunder in grief. (Boys, you may substitute “his” with “her” if you so desire.)
Make it happen.
2. Do not freak out. In the first season of Ghost Whisperer in several interviews, David himself indicated that he expected eventually his character would be killed so that he could become a ghost. In fact, my sense was that David was actually looking forward to that happening because it would keep things interesting on his part, because you’ve got to believe that a Julliard-trained Shakespearean actor working on a television drama leaves challenges to be desired.
Remember, this is Ghost Whisperer, people. It’s highly unlikely that Jim’s death will mark the end of Conrad’s GW run (see also: sassy Talk Soup lady). But how long will he be sticking around and in what capacity? God only knows.
Bottom line: If you only watch GW for “those special moments when he actually gets to do something, like wear a wifebeater to bed,” don’t freak out. At least not until I tell you to freak out.
Okay, time to freak out.
3. If at some point prior to the series’ actual end David Conrad’s Jim goes to the white light forevermore and is written off from the series to never again gaze longingly upon the ample cleavage of Jennifer Love Hewitt … do not cry for David Conrad. He has way too much talent for screen and stage to ever be idle. And also, way too much hotness. Did I mention the hotness?
He’ll be fine.
- August 28, 2008
- filed under Annoying Burghers, Eye rolls, Mayor Ravenstahl, Yarone Zober
- 18 comments
A little tidbit I missed in yesterday’s article about Pat Ford’s resignation from the URA position via a letter in which he hinted that there was some unethical blood on the hands of Yarone Zober, our former mayor for what was it, two days?
Mr. Fisher today detailed that allegation, saying Mr. Zober called the people who wrote letters supporting Mr. Ford, “saying, ‘Don’t do that.'” or they “will be destroyed.”
We are to believe that Yarone Zober called some peeps up and said, “You will be destroyed” as if he is some power-wielding otherworldly ruthless terminator?
Yarone Zober, formerly YZ, formerly The Big Redd Up, now has a new nickname:
Dread Lord Zober
You’re all, “WTF is a Dread Lord?”
Dread Lords are incredibly powerful demons who wield the powers of darkness and mental domination. Though Dread Lords have been known to revel in the gore of single combat, they generally prefer to manipulate and beguile their enemies from the shadows.
Yeah. Don’t let his preppy, schmucky looks fool you.
You cross Lukey and Dread Lord Zober will DESTROY you.
Also, you city workers, I will pay you the sum of one million tenths of a penny if you take leave of Yarone Zober by muttering under your breath, “As you wish, my Dread Lord.”
First, let’s recap.
Here’s a LaMont Jones approved outfit for summer.
Here’s LaMont Jones himself.
Bet you were hoping you’d never have to lay eyes on that photo again. So sorry, but it is a necessary evil.
Here’s an outfit that LaMont Jones says is “flashy” and “pushing the fashion envelope.”
Let’s put them on the Scale of Flashy and see which one is heavier.
Here’s Michelle Obama’s dress. Let’s watch what happens.
[scale tips as if a handful of q-tips have been sprinkled on it]
And here’s LaMont Jones in bright chartreuse hip-hugging, religion-showing swim shorts.
[scale thuds to the ground as if the Space Shuttle Discovery has been thrown on it and starts screaming, “OMG. Get it off. Get if off. Get it off!”]
I think we have our answer.
And the question is this: Does LaMont Jones know what the word “flashy” actually means?