Category Archives: Sports

What They're Really Thinking: Super Bowl XLIII Edition

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.

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Skank + Skeeve = True Love Always

OMG.  It is snowing like crazy in the Burgh right now.  This is noteworthy because:

  • It has snowed, iced, sleeted, frizzled, or otherwise frozen precipitated every day for the last 65 days here in the Burgh.
  • I don’t believe the weather people told us this was going to happen.
  • We’re not all toasty and warm as we could be if we headed to Tampa to cheer for our boys.

Speaking of our boys, I’d like to share this picture with you that reader Diana sent saying:

My boyfriend and I were religious Burgh Blog readers, so when he found this pic he asked me to figure out a way to forward it to you, because no one could appreciate it more.  He confirms that the signature is in fact jeff reed’s and the tattoo…well I guess speaks for itself and for the 2% of women that find a crotch shot of skippy stretching to be hawt.


1. I believe that the most attractive of women, the women you don’t forget — the unforgettable, are those women that conduct themselves with class, yet that have a witty, snarky side while also having a flirtatious, come-hither side.

Now I know that there is also another way to be unforgettable.

2.  We know that Jeff Skippy Skeeve Reed is the very personification of skeeviness.  The Grand Master of Raunch.  The Ruler of Smut.  The Most High Libertine of Lechery. So we can imagine how excited he must have been to find a woman whose skank rivaled his skeeve.

3.  If Skank married Skeeve would their children come out of the womb with pre-printed tramp stamps and teeny tiny nipple rings?  That’s a question for Science.

4.  Clearly, the tattoo needs to poop.

5.  It looks like the tattoo just pooped out a Steelers helmet.  Ouch.

6.  If I had to put a voice to that tattoo’s grimacing face, I think it would be like, “You want to get wit ‘dis, dontchu?  Nee-rwor.”

7.  I can guarantee that that tattoo has an STD.

8.  The smiley face.  It’s a nice touch, Skippy.  “My name is Jeff Reed, and I approved this message!”

9.  In 70 years, the people at the nursing home are going to be all, “Brianna, why do you have a dead armless horse tattooed on your ass?”

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Kiss your ass goodbye.

STEELERS!  Let’s get to it.

1.  First, Jeff Reed is probably gay.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but come on, this ludicrous public carrying on with sluts every chance he gets and always with photographic evidence and now, he is actually walking around Super Bowl practice plainly carrying a picture of a half-naked model with the word “WOMEN” emblazoned across it?

Me thinks he’s trying too hard.

Like, “Look at me.  I love zee women!  I love zee boobies!  I adore zee bajingos!  See!  I carry one around with me!  I am such a manly man.”

Give it a rest, Skippy.

Also, here’s a picture of Skippy stretching.

Now, 98% of the women looking at that picture say to themselves, “Self, looking at this picture of Jeff Reed is making be feel very awkward and uncomfortable and I am going to look away now before I scar,” while 2% of the women are saying, “Hawt.”  If you are one of those 2%, would you please come a little closer?

It’s very hard for me to slap you when you’re way over there.

2.  Santonio Holmes decided to come clean with the fact that as a teenager, he sold drugs so that he could buy himself things.


In order for me to be shocked by a Santonio Holmes headline, that headline would have to include words like charity or churches or Amish or maybe Viagra.

Headlines about Santonio Holmes that don’t shock me will contain words like drugs, sex, babymama, choke and giant freshly showered penis (ding!).

3.  Here’s a video of Dan Onorato and Luke Steelerstahl at today’s Cage the Cards rally in downtown Pittsburgh.

My identity mandates that I can’t say too much about how I feel about Lukey and Dan and the fact that they are going to the Super Bowl along with family members and bodyguards and doing it with campaign funds, but I CAN show you what people have been calling Lukey as of late on Twitter:

  • Mayor Dickwadenstahl (From Mikey of 96.1 FM)
  • Mayor Douchenstahl and Mayorsgonewildenstahl and Mayor Asshatenstahl (Erin Patricia)
  • Mayor Selfishenstahl and Mayor Itsallaboutmeenstahl and Mayor Moronenstahl and Mayor Effingidiotenstahl and Mayor Cheapbastardenstahl (Burgh Baby who appears to be SUPER PISSED)
  • Mayor NoParadeFreePartyTripToTheSuperBowlInStahl (Big Bob from 96.1)
  • Mayor Idowhateverdanonoratotellsmetoenstahl (Magnus Patris)
  • Mayor I’mgoingforthestripclubsenstahl (MarkECib)
  • Mayor Flyaplaneoncampaignfundsenstahl (Tall Cathy from 96.1)

I can’t tell you if I agree with this people, but yes, I AGREE WITH THESE PEOPLE.  Keep it quiet.

4.  If you’re still hoping to head to the big game, you know I’m going to send you to the trusty to tell Dom that PittGirl sent you.  Be sure to check out the seats located in the “Super Sexy VIP Section”.  Seats that actually come with adult film stars.  Awesome.

Also, Dom gave me some Dos and Don’ts for buying tickets:


  • Try to have your tickets ordered by Thursday, unless you are praying for rock bottom prices on Sunday. Everyone is trying to time the market right now. Prices declined over the weekend, but as Steelers Nation rolls into Tampa, there could be an increase sometime between Thursday and Saturday. Maybe not, though.
  • Check out the Official AFC & NFC hotels. The Steelers are staying at the Intercontinental Tampa, and the Cardinals will be at the Grand Hyatt Tampa Bay. Many current NFL players, alumni, employees, and fans will be staying at these hotels as well. Thousands of seats will be funneled through these two sites.  Due to the high price of the tickets, you will not see anyone holding a fist of tickets over their head, yelling “Anyone looking for tickets?” or “Who needs two?”. You will be able to tell who is selling though, and they will be cheaper than “up the street”.


  • The Super Bowl is notorious for bringing in low lifes from all all over. Avoid buying or selling your tickets on the street. You don’t want to end up like this guy.
  • Saturday night is when the fake tickets come out. Fans come out of the bars, and run into sellers that all of a sudden have tickets at face value. Avoid the temptation. If it sounds too good to be true, check with other sellers, and see where the market is.

5.  URGENT!  Currently breaking news on the Trib’s site:

Oh. Dear. God. No!  Stretching!?  He was STRETCHING HIS BACK?!

What next? Locusts?

I need to check, but I’m pretty sure that somewhere in the Book of Revelations it states, “And you will know the end times are near when you see Ben Roethlisberger STRETCHING HIS DAMN BACK.”

This is me, kissing my ass goodbye. Mwah. Goodbye, ass.

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What They're Really Thinking: Media Day Edition

Before we talk about the Super Bowl, can I tell you that I had a nightmare last night?  I dreamed that I was fighting evil vampires (srsly) that had appeared in my bed with me and I wanted to share with you that the way to kill evil vampires is to go into your kitchen, get a dish rag, soak it in Windex and then light it on fire before you toss it in the sink.  This apparently will cause the evil vampire in your bedroom to die.  Now you know.  Aren’t dreams the best?

Let’s move on to something more concrete and graspable, like strippers.

Yesterday was Media Day in Tampa, a day which gives the media access to our boys to ask the silly questions and take the silly pictures before the teams get down to the deadly serious business of winning the Super Bowl.

1.  Now, according to the Post-Gazette, this year’s media day was a giant disappointment due to a lack of jugglers, celebrities, and naked women.

That’s right, Post-Gazette!  I mean, if you’re going to take a company-paid trip to Tampa, you should at least get to see plentiful side-boobage.  My God. Where are all the damn strippers?!

2.  I think Skippy Skeeve knows because he had Slut Radar installed with his first big paycheck.

Did you know that Tampa is like the stripper capital of the world?

Strippers streaming into Sunshine State

TAMPA: It’s not just football fans who are descending on Tampa. Out of town strippers are heading for the Super Bowl city, too.

The Tampa-area boasts more than 40 strip clubs. One exotic dancer named Claudia says she came to Tampa from Las Vegas to work at the landmark club 2001 Odyssey this week. Claudia, who doesn’t want her last name used, says she expects to make $2,000 a day.

Tampa has an anti-lap dance ordinance on the books. But police say their first priority will be security for the big game, not patrolling the strip joints.

So in other words, Skippy, Claudia is going to give you that lap dance!  Yay, you.

Also, proof Skippy Skeeve’s radar picked up on the sluts’ location?  Here you go.

(h/t Burgh Baby)

3.  As for lack of celebrities, I beg to differ.  Pittsburgh Mayor Lukey Steelerstahl was there!

Look at that face.  That is the face of a boy about to get some cotton candy.  Good for you, Lukey.

4.  Cabbage Patch Fatty Baby Cici Donna started out Media Day in the best of spirits, joking around with the media about his new moniker.

*Literally Eskimo for “Chocolate Killer Whale is Hungry” and hungry he was.  By the end of Media Day, Casey was a zombified drooling mess.

5.  There may not have been juggling but there was plenty of dancing.

Holy shit!  I don’t think that’s a legal ballroom move.

Had I been a judge, I would have been all, “I was going to give you a ten until you shoved your fist up his ass.  That’s poor form.”

6.  Edgerrin James apparently subscribes to the Mike Seate School of Thought that states the Race Card is ALWAYS playable:

Running back Edgerrin James, on whether he likes being the underdog: “It doesn’t matter. I’m an African-American. I’m always the underdog.”

Survey saaaaaays … BZZZ.  Wrong answer.  No rose for you.  Big whammie.  The tribe has spoken … you are the weakest link.  Goodbye.

Do you think he goes into the ice cream store and the clerk says, “What can I get for you?” and he goes, “Well, I’m an African-American, so I guess I’ll take some Rocky Road.”

7.  The big question at Media Day was obviously the State of The Knee of Hines Ward.  He was asked how his knee felt, “percentage wise.”  His response.

“I’m not good at math. I feel good.”

Wow.  Wow.  He’s not good at math.  Did the reporter phrase the question as, “Your knee is B and the Super Bowl is A, at what throttle percentage would B need to travel to get up to speed fast enough to arrive at A before the first whistle blows?”

Because THAT is the only way I can see any math at all being involved.

If you put your ear to your monitor, you can hear the gears in his head rusting together.

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Benny, Benny, Benny. Let me pick on you for a while.

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.

Also …

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.”

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