Monthly Archives: August 2009

Pigeon-lover hate email of the day!

These are gold, I tell you!  GOLD!

you big phony. you outed yourself by PURE accident. Only a coward would choose to attack a flock of defenseless pigeons. By the way did you know pigeons mate for life?  They’re very good parents too. Can you measure up to that? I thought not.

1.  You’re right! I will never forgive myself for falling into the frame of a news camera at the exact second I blurted out “I’m PittGirl!”  And I’ll never forgive myself for accidentally writing a thousand-word post telling the city who I am while accidentally uploading attractive shots of my sisters and my parents. I’m such a clumsy dolt!  Damn you, easy to hit “Publish” button! Damn you!

2.  Would you feel better if I arm the flock of pigeons before I attack them? Tiny little cap guns? Poison tipped arrows? Or are their sharp pointy beaks and smelly, poop-loaded cloacas enough weaponry for you?

3. They mate for life?! Yes, they’re better than me, what with all the whoring around I do.

4.  Yeah?! Can a pigeon employ such effective reverse-psychology on her child that said baby pigeon enthusiastically begs to be allowed to dust the furniture and wash the windows?!

Can it?

I thought not.

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If I cared.


If I cared about the Buccos of Suckitude, which I don’t — not since a few months ago when I gave up my position as driver of the bandwagon, abandoned ship so to speak, lit that bitch up and rolled it into the Mon without a thought of the drunk, deluded fans still aboard all, “Wooo! We’ll get ’em next time! This is our year! Where’s that water coming from? Woo!”– but if I did still care, I would look at this picture of Andrew McCutchen leaping with joy into the arms of his teammates after a walkoff homer last night and I would talk about how awesome it is to see them caring that much about winning.

If I cared, I would write an entire post about the beauty that is the poetry in motion of Andrew McCutchen rounding first base, then second on his way toward a triple.

If I cared, I would point out this letter from former Pirate Jack Wilson that surprisingly doesn’t include any of the following words or phrases: effin’ Nuttings, trade-happy rodents, hell on earth, misery, shoot myself in the face or dying alive (tm Jaromir Jagr), but instead focuses on the fans — the die-hard fans who despite what will likely be 17 years of losing, continue to show up, root for the team, and Hope for Change (tm Barack Obama).

If I cared, I would write a post about how my seven-year-old nephew, who can name every player and their position, wakes up every morning, runs to the newspaper to see if the Pirates managed to pull their losing butts out of last place, only to throw the paper down in disgust, stalk into the kitchen and mutter “stupidheads” under his breath. And how much I want to sit him down and tell him it’s time to let go.

If I cared, I’d tell you all to shut up about your love for McCutchen, to stop caring so much about him, to not pin your hopes for the future on his ever-growing talent because it is only going to anger you that much more when the team sells his butt in a few years calling it “rebuilding,” or “prospect-acquisition,” or “MONEYMONEYMONEYWEWANTMONEYNOMNOMNOM,” after which they’ll hold a press conference announcing they’re signing two fifty-year-old Eskimos from the Yukon who showed great promise as athletes when they won their local reality show Akkorpok Talleriktok Uyakterpok!*

But I don’t. Care. Not even a little bit.


*Literally “lifting self up on tip toes and using strong arms to catch flying ball-type object”

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Random n’at.

What better way to get things back to normal than a good old fashioned Random N’at post?

1.  I have drafted my team for the Yinz Team Fantasy Football challenge this year, and in an epic burst of questionable judgment, I drafted a kicker by the name of Jeff Reed. You may also know him as Skippy Skeeve. Fairy Princess. Foul Dwarf. Foul Fairy Princess Dwarf.

The name of my team?


With Kurt Warner leading my team and hitting Larry Fitzgerald, Domenik Hixon and Jeremy Shockey, combined with the #1-ranked Steelers defense and the poster boy for douchebags everywhere, I am clearly going to dominate the league this year.

Or at the very least, disease it.

2. My @janepitt twitter account is up for best twitterer in the Burgh. I can’t fathom a best twitterer in the Burgh contest that doesn’t have either @cranberryperson or @texburgher in the lead, but if you’re so inclined to vote, by all means have at it.  Because I like to win. At everything.

You should see me play a game of Uno.


Also, kids cry easily.

3.  Yesterday at Wal-Mart (DON’T YOU JUDGE ME! I’M UNEMPLOYED!) I saw a little old lady shuffling out of the store in a flower-printed house dress, blue hair, beaded costume jewelry, tan hospital shoes, and a leather Steelers purse.

I wanted to hug her.

4. Here’s a shocking breaking news headline from the P-G:


I bet if you scroll down you’ll see headlines like “The sky is partly cloudy” or “Luke Ravenstahl presents proclamation to random famous person” or “Pirates lose, remain upbeat.”  SHOCKING!

5. Lots of people want to know where I got my t-shirt in my “About” photo. It is called “Pigeons are rats with wings” (That’s church) and you can get it here.  And I just noticed that they are almost completely sold out. Whoops.

6.  More fun hate mail!

This wacko should be kissing pigeons’ cloacas. She OWES her livelihood to the birds!

I have no idea what a “cloaca” is and I’m not looking it up because it sounds dirty. Like bajingo.

And I don’t want the mental image of me kissing a pigeon’s bajingo burned into my brain.


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Fun with hate mail.


I realize I should probably sit tight for a week or two, keep silent, really put a lot of thought into “where do I go from here in order to properly ‘brand’ myself” or some other such nonsense, but the fact remains that I want to write and without the worry of losing my job on my shoulders, hell, I’m going to write. Somewhere, Lukey sits all, “EFF!”

Suck it, haters.

And boy, do I love the haters.

If I had a dime for every person that called me a hypocrite over the last four days, I would have forty cents.

If I had a dime for every radio personality that called me a “back-stabbing, hypocritical, middle-aged housewife,” I would have ten cents.

By far though, my favorite haters are the pigeon lovers. One of the unfortunate outcomes of my face hitting the national news is that the pigeon lovers have now furrowed their unplucked eyebrows of doom in my general direction, with one lawyer in New York City going so far as to tell Pittsburgh Magazine that she will be organizing a boycott of their advertisers until I am fired from the magazine because I am promoting “animal cruelty against urban wildlife” and because she finds my “hate speech reprehensible.”

Then after she unleashed her minions who in turn wrote about how sad of a human I am (“How could you hire this wacko?”) that I cannot find it in my heart to love pigeons, who are, after all, God’s creatures, I received the best hate email in the history of hate email:

Don’t you realize that people who would abuse and torture defenseless animals would do the same to any person who was also defenseless? It’s a cheap ploy to use the defenseless to gain attention for yourself. Politicians do it often – let’s go after the (pick one) homeless, drug addicts, alkies and pigeons – they’re always handy.

Are you doing that thing that I’m doing right now? Are you also singing that little Sesame Street ditty, One of these things is not like the others/One of these things just doesn’t belong?

“Homeless, drug addicts, alkies and pigeons.”

Can she not see how ludicrous that looks? That’s like you asking me, “Ginny, what are your favorite fruits?” and I respond with, “Well, I like kiwis, strawberries, THE DEVIL, and boysenberries!”

Perhaps I should cower in fear of the pigeon lovers who have made me their mortal enemy, but a note: Pigeons are partially to blame for the collapse of the bridge in Minnesota that killed 13 people.

I will not rest until I avenge their deaths.

Also, with apologies to Dave Barry, The Devil and the Boysenberries would make a GREAT band name.

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[inhale] [exhale]


You all are crazy, do you know that? Like, insane.

Yesterday we had over 15,000 visitors here at That’s Church, 50,000+ page views, and hits in what is probably the hundreds of thousands.

We had visits from every state except Montana, which, what did I ever say bad about you, Montana? Losers.

As I feared would happen, I am no longer working at NEED.

Listen. It’s okay. NEED is a wonderful organization doing what it needs to do, look after its rich history and stellar reputation. They don’t need me there as a distraction.

I’m very sad about their decision, but I understand it and I am going to accept it and move on.

There is no need to go to bat for me with them.

Yes, it sucks VERY VERY HARD, but I put in a good six years there and it is time for me to step away from that job.

Now, as I wrote yesterday, be patient with me now while I figure stuff out.  I’ll be downtown tomorrow for meetings and stuff, so I hope to get to meet some of you then. I’ll be the curly-haired chick punting pigeons left and right and …. oh hell, YOU KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE!



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