So let me give you some stuff to read today. Some will change the way you view your problems. Some will change the way you view your city. One will change the way you view my ass. Srsly.
1. David Conrad loves you. But step off.
First up, if you haven’t yet as I’ve already tweeted and facebooked this, you’ll want to read this amazing piece in the Sunday Post-Gazette by David Conrad in which he uses the recent death of his father and his brother’s current fight against cancer to illustrate how Pittsburgh’s people are a huge part of what makes this city great.
If you didn’t fall in love with David in the half-trillion and one posts I’ve written about him, this might be the one to do it.
Then I catch myself and say, “Come on, Dave, know your place here.”
Know what you’re doing, honestly. Know where you work best in a situation, and who you can serve. Know where you’re from. Know your “place.”
Me? My place is Pittsburgh.
What a coincidence! That’s my place too. Call me.
2. Real problems.
Next up, you’ll want to read this story about the Perry County farming family that lost seven of their eight children aged 9 months to 11 in a fire recently. Try to wrap your brain around that.
How’s your problems looking now?
Mine are A-OK!
Love my problems. I hug ’em and thank ’em that they’re not bigger or more devastating.
3. Vermin-carrying vermin.
On a lighter note, you can go read my latest blog post at Pittsburgh Magazine in which we talk about the Pittsburgh Downtown Partnership’s new anti-pigeon materials that are being handed out in Market Square.
Please put on your listening ears for this one: PIGEONS SPREAD DISEASE: Note the important words on the card: Mites. Lice. Vermin. That live on the pigeon. The pigeon is a vermin that has OTHER vermin living on it. Shudder.
On the magazine’s facebook page, a comment was left about that post that Pittsburgh needs to start getting rid of its bird-haters, starting with me.
Pigeons aren’t birds; They’re VERMIN.
That’s what I’ll put on my gravestone under “A banana without Nutella is stupid.”
4. My growing ass.
When I say that, invariably, someone I know will be all, YOU AREN’T FAT. I’m not saying I’m fat, I’m saying I’m relying a bit too much on fat-sucker-inning undergarments lately. And I’m blaming all yinz guys for it.
Perhaps the most insidious force being used against me in this war is not knowing how many calories or grams of fat are in most of these things I need to eat, and my thighs don’t seem to believe me when I tell them, “What you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
Of course, Pittsburgh is full of healthy alternatives, but you’re not telling me about those on a regular basis with flashing neon lights and stunning photos. And, most importantly, those healthy options are not calling to me with the sweet siren song of a cellulite-depositing succubus.
Go read why I’m blaming you.
Here’s hoping I get myself under control before I add to my gravestone, “I fought the cellulite-depositing succubus, and the cellulite-depositing succubus won.”