Category Archives: Nothing
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.
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.
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 …
Let’s get this party started. Raise the roof. Let’s get jiggy with it. Can’t touch this! Cowabunga.
Okay, I’ll stop. But you do realize, don’t you, that I’m still very much a dork, right? A HAWT dork in do-me boots.
The Steelers arrived in Tampa yesterday to begin their week leading up to Sunday and here’s Benny getting off the plane:
That’s right. Benny is filming Brett Keisel filming Benny.
And if you watch this video at the Trib, you realize that a Trib videographer is filming Benny filming Brett Keisel filming Benny. Guess what? Right this second I am filming my computer filming the Trib videographer filming Benny filming Brett Keisel filming Benny.
Did I just make your head explode? You’re welcome.
Can you imagine someday when Benny is older and decides to whip out his Super Bowl video for his kids?
Okay. Okay. Watch here. The cabin door is going to open. Okay. Here’s we go. There it is. The door is open. And now, watch carefully, as I am going to disembark the plane. Aaaaand. There we go. First step. You’ll notice I’m now walking down the steps. Step. Step. Step. There’s the airport. There’s an airplane. Step. Step. Aaaaand, I’m on the cement now. Walking on the actual airport tarmac, you see. There’s the sky. It’s blue. Some trees. They’re green. And we’re walking. Step. Step. Step.
Now, were I so fortunate to be going to the Super Bowl and one day was able to sit my kids down to watch my home video, it’d be more like this:
First thing we’re going to take a look at is Troy Polamalu’s abdominal muscles. Troy? Lift your shirt please when you’re done praying there. Ready? BAM! Lookit that. The next thing we’re going to take a look at while waiting to disembark the plane is Daniel Sepulveda’s entire torso. Danny? Ready? Okay. BAM! And if you look over here you’ll see Casey Hampton inhaling some fluffernutters …
Best video ever.
Write your own joke. Make it a dirty one.
I wonder how much that guy gets paid to paint milk ‘staches on A-list celebrities. I’d like that job.
“Okay, David Conrad, I’m here to paint your milk mustache on. Please drop your pants.”
Hiya! PittGirl here. Or, er. Jane Pitt. Or, ah. Oh, screw it. I have an identity dilemma so you can just call me Your Majesty. Deal?
Did you really expect me to be able to get through the whole Super Bowl week, a week sure to be filled with Skippy Skeeve being all skeevish and blond, The Duke of Fug and the Earl of Gross being all media-whorish, Daniel Sepulveda being all, “First PittGirl self-divorces me and now I’m missing the Super Bowl. Woe is me, God. Woe. Is. Me.” and Troysus being all Jesus-y and the Asshat being all, “Whooooa. This is far out. Do you feel like you’re floating? I feel all floaty. Hey, look at my giant penis!”* and did you expect me to be able to get through the actual Bowl of Super itself without writing about it?
You don’t know me at all.
Luckily, because he’s still my brilliant butler and good friend who almost made me wreck my car in the Squirrel Hill tunnel this morning by texting me, Mike kindly offered me space and a password (Mwah-hahaha!) here on HAGS so that I can post my thoughts and the news this week as we near the big game, a week that will culminate with one last final What They’re Really Thinking.
Try not to sit there at your computer hitting the refresh button until your mouse starts smoking.
*I wonder how Mike feels about the word penis on his blog. It’s not like I wrote “GIANT FRESHLY SHOWERED PENIS!” Class points for me.