That's Church

I purchased a subscription to ESPN Insider for the sole purpose of seeing if Bill Guerin was in fact featured naked in The Body issue as was previously reported.

I’m here to tell you that he is not.  He is mentioned in one tiny caption about OTHER NHL players and their exercise regimen. Boo and hiss to you, ESPN.

I did however stumble upon ANOTHER naked Pittsburgh athlete. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Casey Hampton, AKA Cabbage Patch Baby Cici Donna.

First, YOU ARE WELCOME, Loves!

Second, because I want to know the MOMENT some sicko Googles this, I need to type it so the search engines will find it: “CASEY HAMPTON NAKED”.

Finally, that is supposed to be a picture of a scar of some sort on Casey’s body, but I don’t see a scar. I see a very pregnant black woman.

Oh! “PREGNANT NAKED BLACK WOMAN”.

Just in case.

My column that appears in November’s Issue of Pittsburgh Magazine is online now, and it’s one of my favorite stories to tell.

It was a story I couldn’t share with my readers until now because you all didn’t know I have children until I came out, and this story involves airport hell with my children while traveling alone one winter.

Every word of the story is true and it is now my go-to story for those times when people try to tell me that Pittsburghers are just like everyone else in America.

It’s not true and I have proof.

Let me know what you think!

So this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down, and I’d like to take a minute, you can just sit right there, and I’ll tell you all about the night I met the Dread Lord Zober and Hizzoner Master Lukey.

Or you can bloop-bloop-bloop because this post is going to be a bit long.

When my husband mentioned he wanted to hold a grand opening party the evening before he actually opened the restaurant to the public, he and I sat down one evening and wrote out a list of people we wanted to invite to the free food and drink shindig complete with a mariachi band of real actual Mexicans originally from Mexico.

This happened:

Him: “Should we invite the Mayor?”

Me: “[sigh] [moan] [bitch] [whine] It would probably be the proper thing to do.”

Him: “Okay, how about the Dread Lord?”

Me: “God, NO! He’ll destroy me!”

The next day, a call from my Mother:

Her: “Did you make your invite list?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Her: “Are you inviting the Dread Lord and the Mayor? You really should. It would be the proper thing to do, you know.”

Me: “[bitch] [moan] [whine] Fine.  I’ll invite them! But they won’t come. And if they do come, they’ll come for the sole purpose of destroying me.”

Fast forward to the following week when I get an email from the Mayor’s office informing me that The Dread Lord Zober is pleased to accept my invitation to the grand opening fiesta.

Eff.

Fast forward to the night of the grand opening.  It’s a beautiful early evening in Pittsburgh and the restaurant is filling with our family and our friends and the mariachi band is warming up.  I decided to park my butt at the main doorway and stand on the sidewalk in Market Square to greet the guests.  After about 20 minutes of this, I was standing out in the fading sunshine in a quite deserted square when I heard soft voices. Approaching footsteps.  Suddenly fearful that the pigeons had been informed I was alone, I glanced to my right to find myself being approached not by a flock of ninja pigeons, but instead by the Seven Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

There, walking toward me was The Dread Lord Zober and to his left was none other than Mayor Luke Ravenstahl.

And they have a posse.

No lie.  Four or five business-suited city employees are following close behind Yarone and Lukey and they’re all walking toward me in SUPER SLOW MOTION and they’re … I can’t even type this … THEY’RE SMILING.

I realized that if Lukey and The Dread Lord are walking toward me with smiles on their faces, it can only mean two things … I’m holding a pile of cash they plan to steal or they’re here to kill me.  I was holding no cash, so murder seemed the more likely scenario. With that realization, I said loud enough for them to hear, “Oh, God, no.”

[I'd like to interject that I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.  I really said that.  They really heard me say that.  And I really did this next thing I'm about to write.]

When Luke Ravenstahl, still walking toward me in slow motion and still running film in his head of what my dead body would look like, started rubbing his hands together in that mwah-hahah! fashion, I again said, “Oh, HELL, no!” and I turned on my heel to go back into the restaurant. I slammed the door shut, and I peered out the window and I waited.

And then they were there. Smiling at me. And I no longer had a choice.  I had dug my grave and it was time to fling myself into it.

After meeting the posse, I turned on the Dread Lord all, “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU WERE BRINGING THE FRICKIN’ MAYOR!”

Yeah, the Mayor is standing right there listening to me, but whatever.

After chatting for a few minutes, I walked the men up the stairs to the restaurant, where again, friends and family were gathered … and a hush fell over the crowd.

Poor Ginny.  Looks like she’s dying today. RIP, sister. RIP.

But here’s the thing.  The Dread Lord Zober? Extremely, extremely engaging.  I mean, yeah, I’m sure in the back of his head he was cursing me with every name he could think of in every language he knows, but to my face, so easy to talk to and so kind.

The same can be said for Lukey.  Very kind toward me. He thanked me and my husband for investing in downtown Pittsburgh.

After about five minutes, as the men were seated and digging into their salsa and chips and beverages, I thanked Lukey and The Dread Lord for being such good sports with my blog and the criticism I have thrown their way.

Then I said this, “While I appreciate that good humor and I can’t even tell you how thrilled I am that you came here tonight, I won’t stop doing what I’m doing.”

And that’s when the Dread Lord slammed his fist angrily on the table, sending tortilla chips scattering, and screamed “DESTROY HER!” and had one of his minions run me through with a trident.

I kid.

They said, “We know. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

[thud]

I have no idea what Lukey and The Dread Lord really think of me, but yeah, I’ve heard the rumors. I know they’re politicians and I remain wary of them, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they came, they stayed for almost an hour, and they were gracious.

Regardless of what true feelings or ulterior motives it may have veiled, for the moment, it was human kindness and I appreciated it and wanted to share it with you.  Here are a few photos taken by my former butler Mike Woycheck:

That said, Lukey left the restaurant to head to Off The Record and well, we all know what I had to say about that.

Hey, I’m just doing what they told me to do, which is keep doing what I was doing.

Or something.

There are so many more stories to share from that evening, stories about Franco Harris teaching children to sing Guantanamera …

… and stories about my sisters freaking the hell out when Sally Wiggin walked in.

For now, know that I have come face to face with Lukey and The Dread Lord Zober and as far as I can tell, I have escaped unscathed.

But if I disappear at any point in the near future … avenge me.

Here’s an ad I noticed on WPXI’s website:

That needs no comment, right?

I would like to apologize in advance that I’m about to use even more Internet space to write about the stupidity that is Jeff Reed and Jeff Reed’s agent, but some stupid is just too stupid to be ignored and Jeff Reed and his agent seem to be the Most High Muckety Mucks of Stupidville.  I promise the next post won’t have anything to do with football other than the fact that I’m going to namedrop one Mr. Franco Harris.

Today in the locker room, Jeff Reed spake thusly:

I decline to discuss the charges, but I want everyone to know that I have the most respect for this community and this organization.

[snicker]

Reed added that he has spoken with Steelers coach Mike Tomlin, team president Art Rooney II and director of football operations Kevin Colbert, “and it was not negative,” Reed said.

It was not negative? Well, by my math book here, not negative means that it was positive then? Did they call him in the office and say, “Jeffy! Got yourself arrested again, did ya? But we heard you kept your shirt on and that’s commendable.  Keep up the great great great positive work. We don’t have a negative thing to say about you, your problems, your continued shenanigans, or your insistence on drinking your life away. Effin’ A. Hit the shower.”

I refuse to believe it wasn’t a negative discussion. I will lose all respect for Coach Tomlin, Art Rooney II and Kevin Colbert if they didn’t get a smidgen negative with Jeff Reed.

Let’s continue on:

“I apologize for this being a distraction to the team,” Reed said.

And from Spaeth:

“I apologize for the distraction that it caused to both the organization and my teammates,” the third-year veteran said.

OMG. I have had it up to here with the Steelers and their stupid “distractions.” It’s never that they did something “wrong” or God forbid “unlawful” or “made a poor choice” or “forgot that I am a role model for young children” or “exhibited questionable judgment,” it’s always always always “I’m sorry I have distracted you from the game of football.”

“I went to the (Penguins) game last night and everybody was real complimentary and real nice to me. They know that I love this community and I love Steelers Nation so if I need to apologize to them I do apologize to them and I would never let this city down.”

What the hell, Pittsburgh?! Coach Tomlin won’t say anything negative and the fans are being “real complimentary”?! Am I the only person in this city who when she sees Jeff Reed next will say, “When are you going to pull yourself together and grow up a little bit?”  Complimentary?! I think my brain is going to explode.

Moving on:

“For me, I can move on. There’s been other players that have done this and have played well, so it’s no excuse.”

I don’t even know what he’s trying to say here.  I think I caught some of his stupid or something. Shit. Is stupid contagious?

If it is, stay the hell away from Jeff’s agent, because then you will DIE from the stupid he’s puking all over the place:

“You think he put his hands up to fight a police officer? You’ve got to be kidding me,” Reed’s agent, Don Henderson, told WTAE Channel 4′s news exchange partners at the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. “That’s ridiculous. Jeff Reed wouldn’t fight anybody, so we disagree with the police.”

Yes, Mr. Henderson, it is such a stretch of the imagination to believe that your client, who previously kicked the shit out of a paper towel dispenser because it dared not contain paper towels, and who then angrily cursed out the employees for not having had that dispenser stocked with paper towels, and who after exiting the store CONTINUED to curse them out … it is unbelievable, nay inconceivable to think that he might have an anger problem and that he might in fact have drunkenly put his dukes up with the cops.

Don’t act so flabbergasted, Mr. Henderson.  And please, cover your mouth when you sneeze.  I don’t need to be fighting your stupid on top of the H1N1.

But at least if I get H1N1, I’ll still know the difference between right and wrong.