Suicidal Snowflakes

Just because I have a short attention span doesn\’t mean I…

Everything but the… WUHH???

Ok, so we're watching the NFL channel and they're talking about new rules, etc.  And one of the new rules is the cap on excessive celebration.  Cuz the endzone dances aregetting silly again. One of the commentators says they should hand the ball to the offensive linemen (line-people?) to spike since they never get to celebrate anything.  And then he says it would be a "tribute to teamwork." 

Uh… hell no. If I get into the endzone with that thing, I'm going to do the freaking goofy little dance.  I'm not going to hand it off to, uh, support personel so they can pretend like they  got a touchdown in the hopes of bolstering the self-esteem of someone who, even at league base pay makes more in one year than I have made in the last five.  Let me keep my goofy little dance, you freaking hippy. 

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March 30, 2006 Posted by | Sports that arn't NASCAR | Leave a comment

The softness is the lard. And bacon grease.

Yeah… the steeler cookie thing. I have this big 12 inch round chocolate chip cookie with the steeler’s logo in icing. We bought it Saturday, and I figured it’d be at least kinda hard on the outside, especially since we didn’t bust into it till AFTER the game… but even the edges were moist. that’s how you know that a two inch square piece is 400 calories. WITHOUT the icing. The lard is the goodness, I tell you.

February 5, 2006 Posted by | Food, Sports that arn't NASCAR | 2 Comments

My Steelers cookie can beat up your Seattle’s Best.

I was over a friend’s house for the game, but I didn’t get to see most of it. You see, every time I actually *watch* the game, the Steelers do el stinko. The first half of the first quarter?? That was Joel trying to convince me that I am not a jinx, and if I left the room, he threatened to sic Eric on me. But finally I just couldn’t take it any more. I sat there, but I refused to look at the place from the moment I saw them setting up until all the screaming and rumbling died down in Kristin’s living room. That touchdown they got later in the game? That was when we thought Joel was the jinx because every time he was in the kitchen, the Steelers scored. So I dared watch. And I dared watch the extra point attempt. So, after that, it was no more play-watching for me. I spent a lot of time staring at the carpet, or with my fingers covering my eyes. I do what I havta for my team.

Oh yeah…. and my laptop died today. I guess it was either sacrifice my data, or sacrifice a chicken. While the laptop is regretable because it’s an expensive replacement, it’s less messy to clean up than the chicken.

February 5, 2006 Posted by | Family & Friends, Sports that arn't NASCAR, TV/Movies/Books | Leave a comment

#7 is yummy.


What kind of a sick person makes Ben Rothlesberger gingerbread cookies? Eating it seemed like bad luck, somehow. But I like gingerbread (all things ginger, really), so I ate it anyways. Hope my ginger-indiscretion doesn’t destroy our hopes of one for the thumb. Posted by Picasa

February 3, 2006 Posted by | Food, Random & Miscellany, Sports that arn't NASCAR | Leave a comment

Crackin’ up.


It’s not vudoo, I swear. Posted by Picasa

February 3, 2006 Posted by | Food, Sports that arn't NASCAR | Leave a comment

Whitecastle is ROXOR!!11oneoneone

Not only do they have yummy burgerettes, but Whitecastle is also sponsoring SAVE THE DAY, which is a campeign to make the day after the superbowl a national holiday, thereby aleviating the problem of 1.4 million Americans calling in sick the day after the big game.

February 2, 2006 Posted by | Food, Sports that arn't NASCAR | 1 Comment

Everything but the game

You know what I hate about watching football on network television? Lets see… incessant and constant commercial breaks for one. They haveta stop the play, or have a longer break for the network. Next, the announcers. Have you ever heard a bigger bunch of lack-witts than those fatuous “color commentators” on TV? There’s the stating the obvious, there’s the stupid metaphors, there’s the patting each other on the back constantly. Barf. Then there’s the news-babes on the sidelines, trying to take it seriously, screamin’ over the fans into the microphone, steem coming out of their noses like dragons as they freeze their asses off because the ‘men folk’ are in the press booth, nice and toasty and being served by Hooters waitresses while they say stupid things and laugh at how the news babes are on the sidelines, but they’re safe and warm.

But… there’s this one thing that happens on the network telecasts of NFL football that grinds on my nerves like fingers on a cheese grater. The. Gratuitous. Shots. Of. Football. Players. On. The. Sidelines. With. Their. Hands. On. Their. Hips.

MAKES ME NUTS.

It’s like, when I was in high school, and I figured out if they cut out the half hour of “Quality Resource Time” (a glorified study hall in which you couldn’t actually study or do homework), lunch, all the wasted time between classes, all the wasted time getting everyone in class to shush and behave, group activities and waiting for everyone else to finish, and the wasted five or ten minutes at the end of class where everyone was congregating near the door, waiting for the bell… the school day would be about two hours long, and I’d have five more hours a day to do shit that wasn’t lame or stupid. It’s like that. But with football.

Think about it. How much football could you get in if you weren’t standing there with your hands on your hips, waiting for the network break to end, the never-ending time out to end, the ref in the funny little booth to watch the play fifty seven different times on the challenged play to end, or even eeeeevery time the clock stops. Run out of bounds, sneeze while you’re lining up, the clock stops. Oh and God forbid a flag get thrown. That just makes the clock stop for even longer. I could cook a turkey in the time that the clock is stopped on some of these penalties, the worst of which being the dreaded red flag…

…Anyways… It’d be a hell of a lot of football in the three or four hours usually alotted by the network for the game. Shit. Think about how long it’d take you to play a 60 minute game, without the guys with their hands on their hips for minutes on end? I dont know… Like… 60 minutes. Then we could get on with our lives. With the constant stopping and starting, it just ruins the flow and the suspense and the drama.

Which is why I like watching games on the NFL network. Sixty minutes, including commercials, so it isn’t the full sixty minutes of play. And it starts off with the dramatic build-up, the grounds crew shoveling snow out of the aisles, sun rising over the stadium in Denver, “flashbacks” to last week’s games highlights and lowlights, the pregame baloons floating up to the sky, the lady on the horse (why don’t we have a lady on a horse? Or cute girls in short skirts and hard hats?)… the pregame talkup on the sidelines, finally, the music, the slo-mo, the deep-voiced narrator. Some plays, some plays repeated at different angles at even slower mo, closeups on guys on the sidelines, shiny faces frowning in concentration, commentary from the sidelines, post-game celebration in the locker room… There aint a whole lot of game going on here either, but it’s got flow and suspense, and moves a hell of a lot faster.

Hey, sometimes it’s not about the game, so much as the story behind the play. But I know one thing for certain, it aint about long shots of big, over-padded asses with hips holding up hands. Thank GOD for the only channel on my cable box more gratuitous than the SPEED Network. Thank you, NFL network, you are ROXOR!!!111oneoneoneone.

January 27, 2006 Posted by | Sports that arn't NASCAR, TV/Movies/Books | Leave a comment

The Phantom of the Playoffs.

I’ve been trying to post this since Monday. Oh well. The intarweb hates me.

Waaaaay back in December (stop me if you’ve heard this one), my sister Mary asked to go see The Phantom of the Opera for Christmas, instead of a “real” Christmas present. Mary and I had a blast at Brigadoon and Singin’ in the Rain (which she and Jenn watch non-stop on on-demand), so I figured hey, give the kid what she wants for Christmas!

Then Melissa overhears this, and asks if she’s going to be left out. I didn’t take her to see The Nutcracker this year (which we do almost every year) because a) I was uber busy with school in December, and b) they didn’t have any shows after Christmas. Their last show was on the 23rd, and we always went the week between Christmas and New Years, because we were both off. Of course, Mary usually came along too, so I figured hey, Phantom only comes once every few years, the Nutcracker is around every year.

I started thinking… you know, if I take both of them to see The Phantom of the Opera, and I don’t take Jenn, Jenn’ll feel left out. Jenn wanted to see the movie so much that we went together, so she’s probably interested, even if she’ll never admit it to another human bean. So, ok. Three tickets for Phantom of the Opera. A little pricy, but doable.

Then I let slip that I was taking the girls, and my brother stared on the “what about me” stuff. I told him I’d been planning on getting him booze. First, he’s 21. Booze is important. Second, he already saw Phantom of the Opera when I dragged him when he was in middle school. And… well, it’s kinda girly. But he says, and I quote, “I can by myself alcohol.”

And thus it was so, the Phantom tickets were bought. Mom was having a bad Christmas (what with having a crappy job she’d just started, and being in the middle of a divorce), so I got a few cool things for the kids to have something to unwrap (you’d think that they’re old enough that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but Mary was really bummed about it), and let them know I had the tickets.

Fast-forward…

Sunday night. I’m dressed all cute in Jenn’s dress (Which looks better on me, I might add) and freezing my behind off in the cold. Last week all that badness with the Steelers in the fourth quarter happened because I’d been watching the game. For the good of the city, I stayed as far away from television as I could, but the last I’d heard, we were ahead. And there was also plenty of game left to mess it up.

We had to wait and wait for Jenn to leave her BF’s place before we could walk over to the Benidum. As we were walking, we had a conversation that went a little something like this:

Jenn says “why did they plan a show for the same time the Steelers were playing?”

I tried to explain that, uh, last year when they were setting the schedule for the shows in Pittsburgh, they probably wern’t thinking too hard about if/when the Steelers got to the AFC game. Strange, though it may seem, the world does not revolve around Steelers football (it revolves around NASCAR, dummy–already got the Budwiser Shootout set to record on the TiVo).

We got in there and climbed up an endless set of stairs. Instead of reaching a monastary, or even Ra’s al Ghoul (which would have been cool at least) we reached the top tier. We sat there for quite a while. Eventually, Jenn had the phone attached to her head again, and I figured she was doing something lame like calling her boyfriend. I also HAAAATE it when people can’t put down the cell phone long enough to interract with the world around them, and use their phones in places where it’s not appropriate. That’s not the point. She was calling dad to ask for the score. He said we were ahead, and it was the two minute warning. Mary was all excited that they were “going to win,” as she put it. I reminded her that all of last week’s craziness happened after the 2 min mark.

Within about thirty seconds, word got through the auditorium, and there was clapping through the audience.

A few minute later, even MORE applause and cheering when it was announced that we’d won, and we were going to the Superbowl. A yellow towel here and there waved, one or two whistles. The applause was good and hearty and lasted a minute or so. It died down and a few minutes later, the lights dimmed and the conductor came out. He waved a Terrible Towel, or something, and the crowed errupted. I saw just as many Terrible Towels as at a Steelers home game. We’re talking, whistles, clapping, a standing O for the Steelers. Then the chanting started. Yes, thirty seconds before The Phantom of the Opera started, the sold-out Benidum Hall was thundering with “Here we go Steelers, here we go!” And it went on, and on, and on.

I know we’re a drinking town with a football problem. I wasn’t sure whether this rather uncouth display of fandom was cool, or a little disturbing.

January 25, 2006 Posted by | Crazy and/or Weird, Sports that arn't NASCAR | Leave a comment

Stuff…

  • The pharmicist knew my name and looked up my record and knew what I wanted to be refilled, without me even asking. I don’t know if that’s really cool, or if I should be worried.
  • The manager of the pharmacy looks like Stewart Townsend. which is weird. I’m expecting like a mud monster to try and eat me when I’m checking out my stuff.
  • I went to a football game tonight, and a baseball game. of course it was like half an inning of the baseball game, but it counts. Totally. And I got fake twizzlers and a pepsi at said event. Well, the baseball game, at any rate. The stupid football game didn’t have any stupid twizzlers. Stupid stupid.
  • I dyed melissa’s hair purple (shows up with purple highlights in her dark brown hair) and I put what were supposed to be brown streaks in Mary’s hair, but it came out like red highlights. I did the same thing to my hair, but I haven’t noticed any sort of change or difference.
  • Wonder Woman continues to suck. I have decided that since I’m too dumpy for the marines, even if I can pass their stupid running test, I shall become a ninja. I can be a dumpy ninja. then after I’m a ninja, I will become batman. You’ll see. You’ll all see.
  • I had pizza before the football game. It was kind of like when I was in high school and in the band. Except for the band being totally teh roxorr!!!111one one one. I mean, they’re like second in the country now. Mary says band’s the new football team. And hell yeah, it shows. The band is eighty gazilliondybillion times better than when I was in the band. Da hell.
  • to further simulate the high school experience, I put my headphones on and started listening to music at the beginning of the third quarter. That was usually about when our getting our asses totally kicked wore thin on me. Now it’s an iPod instead of a walkman, but hey, still the same drowning out effect. The only thing I was missing was a book to read 🙂 Fortunately we didn’t stick around that long. A few drives in the third quarter was more than enough for me The score was 30-something to zippo when we left. Holy crap do they suck. Shit yeah, I’d rather be in the band than on the football team.
  • the opposing team’s band had two male color guard members. That was so cool. THAT is equality, Wonder Woman, you sanctimonious bitch.
  • I didn’t get out running today, which was a bummer. I actually… gasp… like it. I know I’m damaged in some way. This is why I wanna join the marines. They’ll make me run ALL the time. Just running and running and running, and pullups, and shooting things, and getting yelled at. I wanna get yelled at to my betterment. y’know, as opposed to now, where it’s just getting yelled at to make the other party fell better. Oh yeah, and I’ll get to shoot things and maybe people. If I can get undumpified. And dig holes. They might let me dig holes too.
  • Did you know that little grey aliens ride in orchid colored space ships? Yeah, me too.

October 15, 2005 Posted by | Comics, Family & Friends, Random & Miscellany, School, Sports that arn't NASCAR | Leave a comment

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I’d go to more sporting events if this sort of thing happened regularly. I’d go on “Yoda uses the force to levetate the coin toss night” on Monday Night Football.

Ooooooh… you could have Boba Fett skate around during pre-game warmups before hockey games. He can randomly shoot players. That’d be roxorrr!!!111one one one one

And I’d go to any nascar race to hear Darth Vader say “gentleman, start your engines” then use the force to strange the life out of Darrel Waltrip before he can yell “boogidy boogidy boogidy!”

Or hows about the Cantina band can play the national anthem at the world series, then Rogue Squadron can do a flyover?? Come on. That’d be cool.

September 30, 2005 Posted by | Nerdology, Sports that arn't NASCAR | 2 Comments