Your eyes are not deceiving you.  Me, the blogger who once wrote, “Vista causes cancer,” is vowing to never, ever speak badly of Vista again.  I don’t care if Vista shoots my eye out with a BB gun.  I will get a sexy eye patch.  I don’t care if Vista deletes every picture I’ve ever taken in my life.  I will make new memories.  I don’t care if Vista begins breeding pigeons.  I will simply up my pigeon-murder rate accordingly.

Why you ask?  Why this virtual hugging of that which I previously wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole slathered in anti-bacterial fungicide?

Because a day after I announced that we would be targeting the transplant floor at Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh for Make Room for Kids, I got an email from an employee at Pittsburgh’s Microsoft office, basically saying, “We’d like to help.”

And I said, “Accepted! Also, I’m sorry about all the crap I spew about Vista.”

So, we’ve spent the last few weeks, my butler Mike and I, going back and forth with Luke Sossi of Microsoft (his wife is a reader. HI, LUKE’S WIFE!), Nancy Angus at the Mario Lemieux Foundation, and each other in which we would send texts and emails that basically would say, “HOLY CRAP!  ISN’T THIS AWESOME?!  PINCH ME!!  NO DON’T!  I DON’T WANT TO WAKE UP!!”

What has resulted is this official offer from the local Microsoft EMPLOYEES with an assist from corporate.  That’s right.  People.  Burghers.  Wanting to help Make Room for Kids.

XBOX Consoles

o   Donated by Employees – Microsoft employees based in Pittsburgh donated (7) XBOX Consoles.  This equated to roughly $1,700 in personal donations which they are going to submit to Microsoft through their Employee Matching Program.  In other words, these personal contributions provided (7) consoles directly plus the funds for (7) more consoles.  This means that this effort alone provided (14) consoles against the goal of (24).

o   XBOX Consoles Donated by Gaming Group – They were also able to secure (2) additional consoles from the Gaming Group taking the total to (9).

XBOX Controllers – In order for each room to have an additional controller (one controller comes with the console), Microsoft is going to donate (24) controllers.  They are also working on securing another 6-12 controllers which can be checked out along with the games.  This will allow for family members to play games when they are visiting.  The value of the controllers is around $1,000.

XBOX Hospital Kiosks – Microsoft will donate (2) Hospital Kiosks that can be used in a public portion of the transplant ward.  They will be on a wheeled platform so the foundation can determine where in the ward it makes sense.  The consoles are more than $2k/device.

XBOX 360 Games – Microsoft will donate at least (40) games which will include the following titles; Lips, Sonic & Sega All-stars Racing, Fuzion Frenzy 2, Blue Dragon, Project Gotham Racing 4, You’re in the Movies, Viva Piñata and Scene It! The number and variety of games will increase as we get closer to delivery date.

Employee Purchase Program for Additional Consoles – With the (9) donated consoles, the foundation would only need to acquire (15) so that each room would have their own console.  In order to get the most mileage out of the money raised, Microsoft is going to work with the foundation so that it can use the Microsoft Employee discount which will result in a $50 discount/console, which will save $750.

Employee Donations – Several employees asked to participate through a cash contribution.

ARE YOU FREAKING OUT LIKE ME?!

I pretty much burst into tears when I received that final offer email from Luke last night, in which he was sure to bring attention to employee David Severino who was instrumental in making it all happen as well.

Do you realize how much of your money this saved us?  How much easier it will be to do everything we want to for that floor with additional hand-held game consoles and ToughBook laptops and whatnot?

And do you see why I am Vista’s new BFF forever and we’re going to get matching heart necklaces and I’ll wear one half and Vista will wear the other and never the twain shall meet?

Microsoft and its local employees are a PERFECT example of why I adore Pittsburgh and the people that do or have called it home.  It’s this generosity; this attitude of “we’ll take care of our own.”

I’ll keep you updated as we near delivery date, but for now, GROUP HUG!

And I should point out that I no longer even need to USE Vista because Windows 7 is available and it rocks!

1.  Last month, in a flash of mommy brilliance, I mixed Flavor Blasted Pizza Goldfish with Parmesan Goldfish, gave it to my son for an after school snack and said, “No applause necessary.”

Then, last week in Target, I spy, what’s this here?  Goldfish Mix-Up Adventures!  Flavor Blasted Pizza Goldfish mixed with Parmesan Goldfish.

I’m pretty sure Pepperidge Farm owes me a couple million dollars.

2. Yesterday, thanks to hot bats and a homer from Garrett Effin’ Jones, the Buccos of Suckitude beat the World Champion Yankees.  Add this to the many many reasons you should hop on the bandwagon with me and donate five dollars to be eligible for some random prizes once the Pirates finally finally finally play .500 ball.

THIS IS THE YEAR!

3.  Speaking of the future World Champion Buccos of Suckitude (I can’t believe I just typed that either.  I think my Pollyannaitis might be flaring up), listen to this quote from pitcher Charlie Morton describing, well, I don’t know what the hell:

“The stuff felt fresh, and I was mostly down.”

Is that Snoop Dogg-speak? Next time someone asks me, “How are you?” I’m going to say, “The stuff felt fresh and I was mostly down, holla.”

4.  Antwaan Randle-El is a Steeler again, and this is weird … I can’t remember what I thought of him as a player while he was a Steeler.  It’s like I erased him from my memory.  So I hunted through my archives to see what I used to think about him.

I discovered I blamed the scientologists when he left.  That I was pissed at him, and that he apparently went “Slash” at one game, as evidenced by this ancient WTRT.

And that’s all I can find.  [shrug]

5.  However, check this out:

Randle El’s signing comes one day after the Steelers signed free-agent wide receiver Arnaz Battle from the San Francisco 49ers to a three-year, $3.9 million contract. The addition of Randle El and Battle gives the Steelers seven receivers, including Sweed and Tyler Grisham — two more than they kept on their 53-man roster last season.

NO!  NOT TYLER GRISHAM!

First I lost Jeremy Bloom and now it looks like I might lose Tyler Grisham.  [sigh]

At least I still have Daniel and Troy to look at.

(h/t Dave)

6.  15-year-old Mt. Lebanon resident Monica Oxenreiter has created her own nonprofit, complete with 501 (c) (3) status, and recognized by the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.  Monica sent me an email saying:

My name is Monica Oxenreiter. I am 15 years old and live in Mt. Lebanon. I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when I was thirteen months old.  I have been involved in fundraising for diabetes research for as long as I can remember.  I came up with a great idea to raise money:  Raise $100 in every zip code in the United States. As there are 42,000 zip codes, this will hopefully raise over $4.2 million for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.

Isn’t that awesome?  Go check out the map, that once every zip code in America is sponsored, will be entirely green.  Right now, there’s tons and tons of yellow.  Visit Zip The Cure and sponsor your zip code!

What an amazing girl.  She’s the next Awesome Burgher and her crown is in the mail and by crown I mean, anything she needs, she just needs to ask me.

7.  When Melissa Hart lost her congressional re-election campaign to Rep. Jason Altmire, for some inexplicable reason she abandoned her old VW in the garage used by congresspeople, where it has rested for three years now, becoming a target for messages scrawled in the collecting dirt by members of the current congress or perhaps their staffers.

“I wish my wife was this dirty.”

Hee.

(h/t Jenn)

8.  Let’s close out with a Craigslist What the Effie, and boy, WHAT THE EFFIE?!

Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m writing you another freaking letter about a sexual assault allegation.

What in the hell is wrong with you?

And please, I don’t mean that as, “What in the hell is wrong with you that you sexually assaulted a young college student,” which, if you did, may your penis shrivel up and fall off.  No, I mean, “What in the hell is wrong with you that you do not take a stronger hold on the charmed life you have, but instead seem content to let it slip away as a result of your vices and/or gross stupidity?”

Am I saying you assaulted this girl?  No.

Am I saying you DIDN’T assault this girl? No.

I don’t think at this point we can truly take a side on the veracity of the claim.  There’s not enough evidence yet.  It’s possible she’s crying wolf.  It’s also possible that you are a perverted, sexually violent wolf.  If you want us to look at her and say, “Maybe she’s lying,” then you must also agree that we should look at you and say, “Maybe he did it.”

We don’t know.  We might never know.

But here’s what we do know.  With a sexual assault accusation already hanging over your head, be it true or false, you never should have put yourself in the position to have this new accusation thrown at you.  What this new accusation does is essentially take the first accusation, which was sinking under the weight of a less-than-stable seemingly opportunistic accuser, and shores that first accusation up.  Strengthens it.  Plugs some holes.  Gives it just enough of an injection of air to make us look at it again as it rises above the surface of the water. Hey look at that thing right there.  That thing I turned away from and said, nah, that’s just a crazy lady who wants money.  Look at that thing floating on the water.  It looks different now.

I don’t think there’s a one of us who isn’t looking at that thing with new eyes. That isn’t wondering if possibly, if maybe, just maybe, you have trouble taking no for an answer.

I get it.  You’re a man.  A wealthy young man.  Then go out to the bars.  Have a blast.  Buy a round for everyone in the place if you’d like. Laugh. Shoot pool.  Spend your money. Tip big. But for the love of God, don’t go anywhere alone with a woman you just met.  Don’t disappear to the bathroom with a 20-year-old you spent the night bar-hopping with. Hire a chaperon to be with you at all times when you’re out partying.  Don’t get drunk in public.  Don’t be a douchebag.  Don’t traipse around town with your posse like you’re Ed Hardy’s gift to our eyes.

You might ask, why do I have to live by these rules?  Woe is me that I have a target on my forehead and all the opportunistic money-hungry girls are aiming for it.   And who made me a role model?  Why can’t I just do what I want and drink and have some sex with girls I just met?  Why do I have to be so careful?

I’ll tell you why.  Because you run a football camp for kids.  Because you agreed to abide by the terms of the NFL’s Code of Conduct.  Because you are paid millions and millions of dollars and that should be enough money to enjoy your vices in private.  Because you have an entire football organization partially resting on your shoulders and it helps if you can keep those shoulders out of jail, or at the very least off of TMZ.

So what now?  Do you hold that same press conference where you enter the room with a heavy sigh and tell us with a wavering voice and tears in your eyes that you’re sorry for the “distraction” and that these allegations are completely 100% false and that you’ll fight them until the truth comes out?  I don’t speak for Steeler Nation, but I don’t want to hear it again. Save it for your family.

I don’t know.  I’m like, kinda done with you.  I can’t look at you the same.  Before, you were just a fug, gross schmuck who I heard lots of nasty rumors about, but who seemed to have a generous heart and who, despite a knack for holding on to a football way too long after the pocket collapsed, could capably throw well enough to win two Super Bowls.  Now, with this second accusation, you’re a fug, gross schmuck with less smarts than a dog turd and less self-control than a spastic colon, who might have actually sexually assaulted a woman and who hired Ray Lewis’ murder-rap lawyer to defend him.

Unless this accuser completely reverses course and admits you never non-consensually touched her, consider the rest of your public life asterisked and when we scroll down to the footnote it will say, “*Twice-accused of sexual assault. But he throws a hell of a fade.”

I can’t speak for others, but for me, no amount of football-tossing brilliance will ever erase the shadows this second accusation has cast over your character, or the very bright light it has shone on your stupidity, or the very permanent edits it will generate to your Wikipedia page.

Yours,

Me.

Every year Burgh Baby laughs grimly at my sad Pollyanna hopefulness and counts down the days until I angrily kablooey the bandwagon and vow never to care about baseball again.

This year is no exception.  I’ve already professed my optimism for this season.  I’ve rebuilt this here rickety bandwagon and I’m racing this thing up and down the streets of Pittsburgh recruiting other Pollyannas to join me in believing that THIS IS FINALLY THE FRICKIN’ YEAR.

Burgh Baby has already done that thing she does:

Hell, even my future best friend David Conrad wrote, when I asked him if he was on my side of this Will They or Won’t They argument:

Getting excited about the Pirates maybe playing .500 ball is like getting excited that Stalin is only gonna jail your neighbors.

HE INVOKED THE NAME OF STALIN, that’s how much he is NOT on my bandwagon.  In fact, I’m pretty sure if he saw my bandwagon heading his way, he’d try to throw down spike strips to disable my wheels.  I love David, but not enough to give up my rose-colored Pollyanna Sunglasses of Deranged Baseball Optimism.

Last week, Burgh Baby approached me with the idea of a baseball blog contest for our respective charities, mine being Make Room for Kids and hers being Christmas Crazy for Kids, which provides Christmas gifts to needy children in Pittsburgh.

Just like that, Make Room for Crazy was born.

The idea is this.  If you’re so motivated, you are going to pick a side.  My side is the THIS IS THE YEAR! side and her side is the THIS IS NOT THE YEAR! side.  The donation to choose a side is $5 and we will put all of the donations into the pot.  At the end of the season (or possibly sooner if they are statistically eliminated from reaching .500 ball), the winner’s charity will get 75% of the pot and the loser’s will get the remaining 25%.

But that’s not all, she screeches in her best Billy Mays voice, if you enter your $5 for the winning side of this equation, your name will be entered into a random drawing for lots of awesome prizes like gift cards and other things that Burgh Baby and I will acquire for free using our very awesome powers of persuasion and possibly The Force, Jedi Mind Tricks, and Vulcan Mind Melds.  I’m going to bug some local sporty dudes for autographed items, too.  We’ll keep you posted as we accumulate prizes for the drawing.

Please only pick ONE side, but once you pick that side, you can enter as many times as you’d like.  So if you’d like to make a $20 donation, go ahead and do that via four entries into the contest. Yes, I just did math.  Be impressed.

The reason I’m making you pick a side instead of just donating to both sides is because, come on, GROW SOME COJONES AND PICK A SIDE!  You are either on my side or on her side.  You don’t get to be Switzerland.

And if you pick her side, may a pigeon peck out your eyeballs, your eardrums and your tongue out so that I’ll know you by the deaf blind mute that you become.

I kid.  I completely get that I’m on the risky side of this contest.  But remember, kids:  They can’t lose forever and my bandwagon has margaritas, burritos, hot babes, shirtless football players, playful puppies, a billion dollars in cash on board, and we don’t brake for pigeons.

PICK A SIDE and click to be whisked away to the proper PayPal page:

The artwork for Make Room for Crazy comes to our courtesy of the talented Rachel Sager.

This is my two-year-old niece’s reaction to seeing Alexei on a pre-game interview, his first as a Penguin:

That boy is cute.  I’m going to marry him and I’m going to kiss him on the lips. [giggle]

We haven’t yet broken the news to her that he’s a married father of three.

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