Hiya! PittGirl here. Or, er. Jane Pitt. Or, ah. Oh, screw it. I have an identity dilemma so you can just call me Your Majesty. Deal?
Did you really expect me to be able to get through the whole Super Bowl week, a week sure to be filled with Skippy Skeeve being all skeevish and blond, The Duke of Fug and the Earl of Gross being all media-whorish, Daniel Sepulveda being all, “First PittGirl self-divorces me and now I’m missing the Super Bowl. Woe is me, God. Woe. Is. Me.” and Troysus being all Jesus-y and the Asshat being all, “Whooooa. This is far out. Do you feel like you’re floating? I feel all floaty. Hey, look at my giant penis!”* and did you expect me to be able to get through the actual Bowl of Super itself without writing about it?
You don’t know me at all.
Luckily, because he’s still my brilliant butler and good friend who almost made me wreck my car in the Squirrel Hill tunnel this morning by texting me, Mike kindly offered me space and a password (Mwah-hahaha!) here on HAGS so that I can post my thoughts and the news this week as we near the big game, a week that will culminate with one last final What They’re Really Thinking.
Try not to sit there at your computer hitting the refresh button until your mouse starts smoking.
*I wonder how Mike feels about the word penis on his blog. It’s not like I wrote “GIANT FRESHLY SHOWERED PENIS!” Class points for me.