Monthly Archives: February 2009

What They're Really Thinking: Super Bowl XLIII Edition

Do you guys know how crazy people will do that thing where they sit on the floor and kind of hug themselves about the waist and rock themselves back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster, lips moving rapidly in an incoherent mumble, humming at turns, rocking harder, occasionally putting their hands over their ears as if trying to shut out a rapidly crumbling world?

Yeah, how many of you were like that during the fourth quarter yesterday?  I thought so.

Who knew it was so comforting?  Next time my boss walks in my office all, “Hey, here’s a major project and I need it ten minutes ago,” I will know exactly how to deal.

Here are some things you would have heard had you been at my sister Pens Fan’s house yesterday:

  • I am so nervous I could just puke.
  • Whoa, Faith Hill.  Did you mainline the Botox this morning?
  • Why is PittGirl rocking like that?
  • NOW they decide to start calling holding.
  • Hah.  Look at that lady in the Cheetos commercial getting attacked by pigeons!  Why is PittGirl rocking like that again?  Is she CRYING?!
  • This halftime show sucks.  I’d rather see Janet Jackson’s boob.
  • I’m sorry.  Did Bruce Springsteen’s crotch just eat that camera?
  • What do horses have to do with beer and why are giant beach balls in New York City going to make me want to take a cruise?
  • Wow.  Number 68 is HAWT. (This very sarcastically from Ta-Ta the Giant-Breasted Poobah)
  • We’re going to lose the SUPER BOWL?! (this from my six-year-old nephew as he was close to tears and kind of holding himself about the waist while rocking back and forth)

Let’s talk football.

1.  The fans.  The fans!  Did you see any Arizona fans?

Oh, wait.  There’s one now.

Poor guy.  Doesn’t he look lost?  And like a giant loser?

Most times, I’m proud of Steelers fans, but sometimes they embarrass the shit out of me.  Case in point:

The Terrible Bra?  WTF?  The Terrible Towel is sacred and we do not merely place the world Terrible in front of something and say it represents our devotion to the Steelers.  Especially not something like a bra.  What’s next?  The Terrible Tampon?

Also, somewhere in the world, Skippy Skeeve is looking at that picture and noticing that the tassels are a-twirling and is saying, “Hawt!”

2.  During the game, my virtual friend @CarmanAvenue texted me, “Why don’t the Steelers have cheerleaders?” to which I responded, “Why don’t fish walk?  Because that’s what God intended.”

Speaking of cheerleaders:

She clearly wants to get it on with that bird.  Something about the size of a bird’s beak being proportionate to … well, you figure it out.

3.  Speaking of fans, Lukey Steelerstahl and Dan Onorato were on hand using campaign funds to promote Pittsburgh to the world.

I’m so proud.

4.  Speaking of suck … weren’t we just discussing suck?  I did not enjoy Bruce Springsteen’s half-time show except for that part where he did that thing.  You know?  That thing?

That part was awesome.

5.  In the Trib, I predicted the game would be won 20-13 and that it would be won due to a turnover/gadget play or something unexpected.  When I was interviewed, I really wanted to use the word “miraculous” instead of “unexpected” and now that James Harrison has run for a 100-yard touchdown, I wish I had.

When he landed in the end zone, after running through Cardinals and Cardinals and refs and Kurt Warner and fire and Cardinals and the very demons of hell, that’s when I said, “Okay, that is proof right there.  God is a Steelers fan.”

Usually, when defensive players intercept and run the football for a great distance, they peter out after about 40 yards, at which point their giant legs become dead weight and they become sitting ducks for the pursuing thinner, faster players.  That didn’t happen this time.

Because of God, Jesus, Troysus, and possibly the President of the United States of America.

And I’ll take some credit too, because I was screaming “RUN!” loud enough that the force of my breath in Pittsburgh probably put some wind at his back in Tampa.

6.  Benny.  BENNY!

You didn’t suck!

And that thing you said at the trophy podium?  “Hey, offensive line, who’s laughing now?”

Adorable.  Today, I love you.

Tomorrow, I can’t promise you anything.

Also:

Clearly, that needs a Separated at birth? caption.  As does this:

7.  There was a debate as to if Troysus was a factor in yesterday’s outcome.  Some of us were all, “I can’t even be sure he was playing for the Steelers today” while others were all, “Troysus was doing exactly what he was told to do — stay between Kurt Warner and Larry Fitzgerald!”

I don’t know.  But I do know his baby is cuter than a puppy hugging a kitten who is hugging a hamster who is eating a carrot all “nom nom nom.”

8.  Hines wasn’t a huge factor after that first big catch he had, unless I missed something great he did while I was rocking and muttering and humming.

His sense of style did take quite a beating when he saw how fugly the Super Bowl hats were.

9.  The best for last.  Santonio Asshat Holmes, Super Bowl MVP.

And deservedly so.  I realize many feel Benny should have had it, but the fact of the matter is that it was pure heroics on Santonio’s part to not only catch the ball but to also keep his toes inside the lines.

There was a good portion of the fourth quarter, probably starting with the touchback, that I began to fear we were going to lose.   Benny seemed desperate trying to get out of the endzone, trying any play he could think of:

Then Larry Fitzgerald scored that touchdown.

That’s when the kids in the room started crying.  No lie.

That’s when it got quiet in the room and you could actually hear the rocking of the bodies.  (Also, because I am an expert lip reader, when Larry got to the sidelines after that play, one of his coaches was saying to him, “Your mom is up in heaven with God looking down … ”  Something like that.  Swear to God.)

That’s when Pens Fan lost her shit and started shouting at the lone Cards fan in the room, telling him he was uninvited to any future Super Bowl parties and that he could either zip it or take himself, his clapping, and his hooting and go in the other room.

It was as awesome as it sounds.  She’s very pregnant, so she’s allowed to yell at people like that.

Then Benny found Santonio.

He made us forget his drunken arrest, his choking of his babymama, his giant freshly showered penis (ding!), his smoking weed in his car, and he allowed us to focus on a catch so beautiful that I’d buy him some weed right now if he asked me to.

I’m not the only one.

10.  And just like that, we’re winners.  They’re not.  You can stop rocking now.

It was a great game.  One I’ll never forget.

Now that we all rest comfortably in the knowledge that we won, we can say we wouldn’t have had it any other way than that nail-biting, rocking ourselves calm way it happened.

It’s a good day when you wake up with a happy hangover and a voice hoarse from screaming and a football team with six Lombardi trophies and a city that is going to throng the streets of the Burgh tomorrow.

I’ll be there.

Now, I must say goodbye to you guys again.  But don’t worry.  We’re like those soap opera supercouples that break up and get back together over and over again.  Like Sonny and Carly.  Like Luke and Laura.  Like Bo and Hope.  Like Beth and Lujack.  Like Blair and Todd.  Like Josh and Reva.  Like Patch and Kayla.  Frisco and Felicia.  Eden and Cruz.  We will find our way back to each other again.

Thanks to Woy for asking me to guest-post and thanks to you for finding me and for reading!

Here’s a little parting gift:

Also, if my departure is just too much for you to bear … well, start rocking.





Patience.

OMG.  Do you have any idea how many photos are coming across the wire?  Bazillions.

Hang in there, kids.  The final What They’re Really Thinking will be posted before 5:00 p.m.

The things I do for you …