Well this was a game that probably had all of Steeler Nation using birthing breathing to calm themselves down.
Women kneeling beside grown men helping them hee-hee-hoo. Hee-hee-hoo. Hee-hee-hoo.
I spent one half of this game carrying on and high-fiving my husband, my kids, my dogs, my beer; I spent the other half yelling at everyone to SHUT THE HELL UP.
I spent one half of this game running laps in my house screaming, “Pittsburgh’s going to the Super Bowl!”; I spent the other half using evasive maneuvers against the Karma Boomerang.
I spent one half drinking beer; I spent the other half wondering if Rite Aid sells hemlock over the counter.
I spent one half euphoric, the other vomitous.
Epidural! C-Section without anesthesia.
Somebody stop the Opposites ride; I’d like to get off now.
Let’s talk football.
1. I told you last week that my vibes on the Steelers are usually 90% accurate. I’m not making that up. As opposed to my parents’ vibes which aren’t vibes at all and are really just pessimism wrapped up in defeatism and sprinkled with hopelessness.
True story. My mother called me in the fourth quarter.
Phone: RING! RING!
Mom: “Whatcha doooooin’?”
Me: “Um. Watching the game. What are you doing?”
Mom: “Oh, nothing. What’s the score?”
Mom: [ranting and raving and freaking out]
Me: “Aren’t you watching the game?”
Mom: [ranting and raving about how she can’t watch it because she knows they’re going to lose. SHE KNOWS IT AND–]
Me: [blink] [click]
Husband: “Who was that?”
Me: “Wrong number.”
My vibe on this game as early as last week? That we were going to win.
My vibe on the Super Bowl. I’m not telling.
2. Game warm-ups. Sanchez is loosening up and teasing his teammates at the same time.
3. The first drive took almost ten minutes of the first quarter. A huge clock eater.
Benny took off running on third and long and managed to snag a first down. Hines almost has a touchdown. Mendy gets it. Bam. 7-0.
Nice. Textbook. Have a beer.
Except Maurkice Pouncey got hurt on the final play of the drive and is helped off the field where a waiting cart shuttles him out of the stadium, likely for the rest of the game.
Good thing the center isn’t that important, right, guys? RIGHT? In comes Legursky to play center, a very unimportant position. Nothing ever happens at center. Right? RIGHT?!
Excuse me. You there. Do look out for the irony anvil about to fall on your head.
4. Also in the first quarter, Mark Sanchez picks his boogers and wipes them on his teammates’ jacket in front of 54 million people.
Tell me that doesn’t look like something you’d see two monkeys do in the zoo right before picking dead flies from each other’s butt holes.
I think I’d have preferred he had done that hold one nostril down and fire at will with the other nostril thing.
5. Second quarter, Sanders, I think it was, draws a big penalty when he’s destroyed with a late hit, to which Rex Ryan screams on the sideline, and I lipread quote, “THAT’S MOTHERBLEEPING FOOTBALL.”
No. That’s a late hit and it’s against the rules.
6. It’s 10-0 when Benny hits Heath and Sanders and Rashard and then scores himself when Mendy draws a tackler away from the action.
Everyone in the end zone freaks the hell out, except for one angry guy who paid a fortune to sit in the front row and watch his team get slowly decimated.
Two touchdowns and a field goal separate us from the Jets. We’re all breathing pretty easy, aren’t we?
Would you like to breath even easier? Wish granted! Ike Taylor forces a fumble and Gay recovers to score. 24-0.
We are breathing so easy we might as well be laying poolside on a posh resort in Hawaii using hundred dollar bills to blot our sweaty brows.
7. Before the half, the Steelers were leading by three touchdowns and a field goal and my son said, “Oh, we are SO winning this game” and being the wise one that I am, I imparted these wise words of advice to him: “If we scored 24 points in one half, so can they, young Jedi.”
My husband got cocky on facebook.
You see the “hahaha” there? That’s sarcasm. What he was really saying was, “We’re leading by 24-0. This game is as good as won as long as we keep our fock-yous.”
You see what Jose said? Pretty sure that translates into, “I have one thousand dollars that says your wife punched you in the arm six times for getting too cocky and forgetting to fock-yous on the Karma Boomerang jajajajajaja.”
Yes, way. Jose.
8. Second half.
What do you suppose happened during halftime that caused the complete switcheroo?
I guess we’ll never know. Or will we?
Whatever it was, toe sucking or maybe dirty play calling:
… whatever it was, the turnaround began with a catch by none other than the Giant Freshly Showered Penis himself, Santonio Holmes.
Who then stands up from said catch, his first of the game I believe, as his team is down twenty-one points, proceeds to signal the first down with so much dramatic flair that the Dramatic Chipmunk was all, “Really?” Santonio then stares into space. Deep into space. Deep. Deeper.
You know what? I’m going with the weed theory.
9. We interrupt this What They’re Really Thinking to ask, “Did you really think I was going to write this post without talking about his penis?”
Also, “Was Santonio that annoying when he was a Steeler and we just didn’t realize it because the black and gold blinded us?”
Deep thoughts. I haz them.
10. While I’m lost deep in thought about his level of annoyingness, Santonio snags a pass for a 45-yard touchdown and immediately pulls his penis out and pistol-whips Steely McBeam with it in celebration. Your recollection may vary.
11. It’s 24-10 now. I’m getting a little nervous, but I’m hanging in there. Still two touchdowns ahead.
Benny is almost intercepted on third down. I’m getting a bit more nervous.
Roughing the punter! YAY!
Interception! NOOOOOOOOO! A squirrel has burrowed into my heart and is punching my important heart-regulating nerves.
Goal line stand! No points!
Steeler Nation is in a frenzy! People are live-tweeting their goal-line-stand-induced orgasms!
I’m tweeting the words “MOMENTUM SHIFTER!” And then.
12. What’s this? The center is important, you say? The irony anvil I dropped up there has come crashing down upon your head, you say? Legursky screwed something up in the end zone, you say?
SAFETY, YOU SAY?!?!?!
Hellfire and damnation are upon us.
I can hear my mother punching hand-sewn pillows a mile away.
People are bursting into flames.
Don’t be alarmed. I bet that happens every time the Duke walks into a church.
Ba-ba-BAH! Try the veal!
13. I take a moment to pray and BAM! 24-19.
I cast a scolding look heavenward and then say to myself, “HEY! Has anyone seen Troysus?!”
Oh, there he is. Practicing his boyband moves.
If you don’t recognize that song and those exact coordinating dance moves, you can get yourself off my lawn before I wipe my ancient boogers on you.
Troysus. Super Bowl. Be there? Or do we need to replace you with this?
14. Third and 6. Less than two minutes on the clock. We need a first down like Troysus needs a resurrection. Bad.
Benny scrambles. I hold my breath. My husband lets out a primal scream. My mother probably covers her eyes. My father has no clue about anything as he’s locked in a dark room at an undisclosed location. Time stands still. We just need a first down and this game is ours. First down, game is over. Fourth down, Jets have time to win. Heaven. Hell. Up. Down. We’re either going to explode with joy or fling ourselves from bridges while holding irony anvils.
Ball … thrown … to … to?
15. We interrupt this What They’re Really Thinking for this special announcement.
This dude’s first name is D’Brickashaw:
16. … RANDOM DUDE NAMED BROWN!
Two weeks in a row we’re saved by a guy whose face I have never seen.
Benny kneels and the full magnitude of what has happened finally hits Mendy.
You’re going to the Super Bowl, Mendy! What are you going to do now?!
18. Steelers win.
Pittsburgh’s going to the Super Bowl.
Here we go.