2012 may be the last year ever, but man, what a way to go

If the Mayans are right, and I'm not ruling anything out, then 2012 will be our last year on this planet (but maybe we'll find a new planet? Like maybe Vin Diesel can lead us on an expedition to colonize a new world that is WAY cooler than any stupid world that stupid James Cameron thinks up). 2012 has been a weird year for me, but that aside, 2012 is only half way through and so far, it's been a pretty amazing LAST YEAR ON EARTH. To recap: Kristen Stewart cheated on Robert Pattinson with a married dude, and we were rewarded for this massive failure in judgment with a YouTube post from some British "Twilight" fan crying her little British heart out over the tragedy of it all. Amazing. Also, we have the Olympics, and I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I know that America will kick the world's ass, because that's what America does. (I get crazy patriotic around Olympic time. Mostly because America is the greatest country since, you know, sliced bread. And all the other countries can suck it. YOU KNOW WHAT CHINA? YOU MIGHT HAVE A KATRILLION PEOPLE BUT WE INVENTED THE CHIA PET AND THE SNUGGIE AND YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM US!) And there's a Presidential election. And it's not here yet, but we've already been given such amazing things from it. Like Mitt Romney saying things like, "Corporations are people too!" or "I'm not concerned about the very poor. We have a safety net there." Or Newt Gingrich's entire campaign. Or how about my main man, Barack, giving away dinners with George Clooney. (Say what you will, the Republicans might have more money than us, and maybe they are tighter with God than us, but they are not now, nor have they ever been, hipper than us). Plus, 2012 gave us the "Tanning Mom." I have pretty high expectations for the rest of 2012. And it better deliver.

I wish Will Smith could narrate my life

I've been thinking about this. And I know that most people would want Morgan Freeman to narrate their life, or maybe even James Earl Jones (what ever happened to that guy? If you tell me he's dead, I will cry. Right here. Right now. I will cry), but I'm thinking that Will Smith could narrate my life. What's he doing now anyway besides pimping out his kids? (I'm pretending that Men in Black 3 is not happening. There are things that I prefer just to pretend don't exist. That's one of them. Also the re-release of Titanic in 3D. And NOT ON THE 100 ANNIVERSARY OF THE ACTUAL TITANIC SINKING. Like 8 days before that historically significant date. Let this be reason 864 that I HATE James Cameron's stupid face.)

Here is why I would like Will Smith's life narration:

1) He could rap it.
2) He could put a sick beat behind it.
3) "Parents don't understand."
4) He's probably friends with Bill Pullman and I could maybe meet him and tell him he's the second greatest fictional president of all time. Behind Martin Sheen.
5) He has a voice like butter.


I think this is a great idea. I'm going to look into this.

This post is dedicated to Stevie Johnson. Football loser, Twitter winner.

Things I love this week:

1) Stevie Johnson (who maybe should look into the wisdom of being called Stevie as an adult) wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills blaming God (on Twitter. TWITTER! It just...does not get any better) for dropping the game winning pass against the Pittsburgh Steelers. "I PRAISE YOUR NAME 24/7!!!!AND THIS IS HOW YOU DO ME!!!" I love this on several levels (in addition to blaming God, I love how many exclamation points he uses. HE'S REALLY REALLY MAD AT YOU GOD!!!!! SO MANY THAT HE HAS TO USE ALL CAPS AND LOTS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!), and I also love that he retracted that statement a day later. Although, Stevie, if you are going to go all out and blame God, you should probably stand by your anger. "THX THO!!!!!!"

2) Sarah Palin mixing up North and South Korea. Cause that's not an important distinction or anything. One is has a crazed dictator and nuclear weapons and the other is our ally. I also love that Barbara Bush commented on former Governor Palin by replying, "I sat next to her once, thought she was beautiful. And I think she's very happy in Alaska -- and I hope she'll stay there." Word. Now I just have to deal with the fact that I agree with a member of the Bush family. It's sort of turning my world upside down.

3) The Walking Dead . Yes. Gory, gruesome and just awesome. It's totally blowing my mind. Sure, I have to fast forward through some of it (my aversion to all things bloody once again rears its ugly head), but it's so good. In other news, I would not survive a zombie apocalypse, despite claims I have previously made to the contrary. I'm not fooling anyone, I'd be in the first wave gone.

1985, what WHAT!

Okay. So I fail. I haven't blogged in months. Since March Madness concluded. Perhaps we can just agree that maybe I was too upset with Pitt getting knocked out of the tournament to visit the worlds of the internet. Sure, that works.

But! I rediscovered this ol' blog that I used to frequent, and I thought, you know I'm feeling a little bloggy today (real word. Look it up.)

This post is dedicated to the year 1985, which was awesome in many ways.

Uno, I was born. You are welcome world.

Two, Back to the Future was released. As was The Goonies AND The Breakfast Club AND Teen Wolf AND St. Elmo's Fire.

If that doesn't make you worship the year 1985, what will?

C) How about the music? "Don't you forget about me?" And oh, yeah, there was that little song called "We are the world." Yeah, that happened in 1985. So did "Live Aid."

Honestly, I bet all the years around 1985 are pretty jealous that they aren't as awesome as 1985 was. I bet they cry all the time and think about how they could have been cooler if only 1985 hadn't existed. I bet 1984 and 86 scheme from time to time about how to cut out that middle year and just pretend it never happened.

But it happened, World. It happened. And it was amazing.

Maybe you should have elbowed someone in the face McGhee

Dear Pitt,

You know I love you. I do. But we need to talk. Every March, Pitt, I get all excited. I bust out my Oakland Zoo t-shirt, and I fill out my bracket, and I always, always, have you taking it all.

Call me optimistic.

But Pitt, every year, every March, you disappoint me. Xavier? XAVIER?!

I kicked a box when you lost Pitt, and it hurt. (No really, it hurt my toe. Box-1, Lisa- 0).

To be fair, this doesn't hurt as badly as that elite eight loss to Villanova last March, and it doesn't even hurt as much as that Cincinnati football loss this past season, but it still hurts. I had faith in you, and you squandered my faith.

Give me some space, now, Pitt. I will still rock my Oakland Zoo t-shirt come next season, you know that, but for now, I think we should just take a cooling off period.

Love,

Lisa

P.S. Xavier? Don't even get me started on you. You are from Ohio. I should have known. Nothing good comes out of Ohio. NOTHING.

You know what James Cameron, I saw True Lies, and it SUCKED

I have an epic cold that WILL NOT GO AWAY. Now it's a super awful cough. I should probably go to a doctor, but I probably will just wish it away.

Kate Winslet and her husband split up. I think that Leonardo DiCaprio is secretly in love with her. Did you see the way that he looked at her when she won her Golden Globe? That's not just typical co-star support, that shit's emotional. He looked pretty teary eyed. I'm just saying, Leo, girl's single now, go get em' champ! 'Bout time you ditched those brainless models.

I drank some green beer on Saturday. It turned my tongue green. I like being Irish.

Tara's shower was on Saturday. Throwing parties is a fool's game. From now on I am just attending parties. Oh it went well, and the food was good, and the booze was good (I said to my Aunt Amy, "If there is one thing I know, it's how to make alcohol taste not like alcohol," and she said, "Somehow I could have guessed you'd be good at that."), but it's just so exhausting. On top of the epic cold that won't go away. Seriously, I will come to your party, but don't expect me to throw one. I am le tired.

I was watching that show, "Who do you think you are?" about celebrities researching their ancestors and now I totes want to research my own. I know that we had a florist in the family in the early 1900's named Valentine Scheide, but SJP found out one of her ancestors was accused of witchcraft in Salem. Witchcraft trumps florist, even if Valentine is an awesome name.

Pitt is a number three seed in the NCAA tournament. This is exciting. Less exciting is the fact that Drunk!Sarah stole a Penn State paw from someone's truck on Saturday night and left it, without my knowledge, on Eartha Kitt. I left it on her mailbox. I half hope it's going to show up somewhere else. It's like a game.

This week's douchebag of the week is James Cameron. Because he couldn't be last week's.

Dear James Cameron,

You are a douchebag. I know very little about you (on purpose) but I do know that you are several times divorced and that you are a douche. I am very happy that your ex-wife beat you because she seems like a nice person and you are not. Titanic, although it has one of my all time favorites, was a terrible movie and so is Avatar. I could make a cool movie too if I had that much money to do it. You aren't that special and when you did win (not at the Oscars, sucka), you used a language that you created. That's not touching, that's douchey.

Not love,

Lisa

Hey, remember that time we beat Marquette?

It's that time again. Yes. It is Random Monday. This week's Random Monday is brought to you by the word Awesome.

I had a really great week. Despite dying of the Bavarian Death Flu. Also known as the Jonathon Brandeis Memorial Death Flu. Also know as the Black Death.

I went to the Pitt game on Thursday. We should have won handily, but it was more fun the way that it happened. Ashton Gibbs, I want to do bad things to you. That three pointer at the buzzer? OMG. Seriously. Killed me dead.

A few years ago, we went up to New York and saw Pitt win the Big East tournament. As we were walking down the street, drunkenly of course, we kept saying, "Hey, remember that time we beat Marquette? Because I do. Because it just happened." I'm pretty sure all the Marquette fans around us wanted us to die. Well, suck it Marquette. And Providence. That loss hurt, didn't it friends?

I'm supremely happy that James Cameron lost to his ex-wife. And that his stupid live action version of Fern Gully lost. I hate James Cameron. I'm not entirely sure why, I think that fact that he's a jackass and that he makes crappy movies and still is richer than Jesus probably has something to do with it. It makes me sad that Kate Winslet was involved in Titanic because I love me some Kate Winslet. Sandra Bullock's win also was epically awesome. Confession. I love terrible action movies. Like Speed 2 or The Mummy.

Don't judge me.

I'm making green Jell-O shots for my sister's wedding shower on Saturday. Let the records show that I am an awesome Maid of Honor.

I'm going to end Random Monday with another weekly tradition I am going to start. It's called Douche of the Week. This week's Douche? Big Ben.

Dear Big Ben,

You are a douche. I'm not sure if you are guilty, but honestly it doesn't matter. Guilty, innocent, you are still a douche. An ugly, overrated douche. You shouldn't have been at that nightclub. Nothing good can happen at two a.m. Go home, go to bed, stop being such an idiotic douche. And please, for the love of God, learn how to release the ball faster. You hang on too long to it in the pocket. That's why you get sacked constantly. That has nothing to do with you being a douche, it's just something that's been bothering me all season. You're a turd.

Not Love,

Lisa (speaking on behalf of all of Pittsburgh)

Random Monday Volume II: The Rainy Day Edition

Random Monday, round two. GO!

Best thing I heard all day? When Teja explained that Emaline couldn't have a glass of water to dip her paint brushes in because the last time she drank the cup of paint water. And Em's reply?

"Yep. It tasted good."

Kids are awesome.

My Monday off was totally busy. I had lunch with Bill Keller (who in his Bill Keller way, managed to drive me crazy before he even got into the car. It's actually a talent and impressive). After that, I went to my aunt's to borrow her scanner to scan some old pictures into the computer. And then picked up Samantha from school (man, you know you live in the 'burbs when the area where parents pick up their children is filled to maximum capacity with minivans and SUV's). Then came pretty much straight over here to watch Em. And here I sit. Keeping Random Monday alive. Trying not to fall asleep.

I like chocolate and cheese more than should be allowed. I think things from a cow are the greatest gift the Universe has ever bestowed upon us. The only thing that would make a cow's contribution to my life better would be if pierogies also came from a cow. Then I would understand completely why the Hindu's worship the cow. Maybe in India pierogies DO come from cows.


The Olympics make me patriotic in a way that might be unhealthy. I get all fired up. Like US v. Canada in hockey. I was super serious about that shit. Screw Sid the Kid. GO TEAM USA! I'm usually all about other cultures and not being too cultural bias-y (which, I'm thinking isn't a real word. WELL YOU KNOW WHAT? IT IS IN AMERICA!), but during the Olympics there's like a switch in my head and instead of being like, yeah, other countries are awesome too, I'm all like, "Dear Other Countries, Sorry that you are not as awesome/amazing/crazy good at all things like we are. I'm also sorry that you don't seem to realize that we are better/more awesome/generally just superior in all ways than you are. GO US! Love, America."


The only thing that is different about this Olympic experience is that I kind of want to be Canadian. And that has never happened before. But do you see how excited they get about EVERYTHING? Canadians are like Canada's biggest fans, and that's awesome. Plus Ryan Reynolds is from Canada. And I would like to do dirty things to him.


That's all I have for the second edition of Random Monday. We're making it just under the wire too. Because in forty minutes it's going to be Tuesday. And Tuesday can't be Random. It's just Reasonable Tuesday where things are orderly and make sense. Suck it Tuesday.

POPCORN Lisa!

I'm currently sitting at Caribou. I have never done this. Others do it. All the time actually. Some people waste hours here. I have about an hour and a half to kill. There are strangers in my home putting in new carpeting. Hence, I needed to get the hells out of there. I think there is a difference between strangers and potential friends and I do not like to cross it. Potential friends? Yes. Strangers? No. Stay the fuck away from me.

Please do not offer me candy to entice me into your creepy van. The answer is no. (Sidebar: If someone offered me Strongbow, or to a lesser extent Woodchuck, to get me into their vehicle, I have a hard time believing I could say no. I have extraordinarily low standards).

So Caribou. It's strange that some people do this every day. I'm going to assume that they have more to do than just sit and read The Princess Bride and write a ridiculous blog about the danger of strangers. But I have no idea. Maybe they sit and play Snood all day long and just pretend to look busy.

I sure hope so. If I could figure out a way to play Snood at a professional level, I would, I totally would. I want someone to pay me to play Snood. Or Zuma.

I'm going to assign this blog Random Monday, because I'm going to popcorn to a different topic (remember popcorn? When you would be in class reading out loud and to get someone else to pick up the reading you would say "Popcorn Meghan!" and then Meghan would have to read about estuaries and tidal flow. I hope that was not just a Marzolf Elementary thing but like a real life everywhere thing).

Bob is throwing beans at me. Kurt also had to try. Bob won. Kurt's landed no where near me. Sorry Kurt.


The Princess Bride is one of my all time favorite movies. I bought the book recently at the Half Price Book Store. I love the Half Price Book Store. But I digress. The book is fantastic. The movie follows the book pretty precisely, which makes me love the movie and Rob Reiner more. I hate movies that screw with the book. Don't make the movie if you don't think you can do the book justice (I'm looking at you Time Traveler's Wife.)

I love the Olympics. I want the Olympics on all the time. But I bet that would make them less awesome. Like Christmas. If you had Christmas everyday I bet it would suck after awhile. Plus everyone would be broke. You can't have the same day over and over again without it totally sucking. Just ask Bill Murray. He'll tell you.

Random Monday. I might make it a thing. Stay tuned.

Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

I epically fail at keeping a blog.

In other news, my fortune cookie the other night when Sarah and I ordered from Lulu's was "You will find a way out of a financial mess as if by magic." I thought, hey, that's an awesome fortune, and then forgot about it. UNTIL Tuesday when the fine folks at Pitt called me to tell me that I had a rebate check from 2004 that was never cashed. AND THEY ARE GOING TO SEND ME A NEW ONE.

Fine folks at Pitt, can I please make out with you?

I'm not going to get too excited, because my fortune the next morning when we went to get brunch at Fuel and Fuddle was "The only way past grief is through." WTF kind of fortune is that?! I'm hoping not ALL of my fortunes come true. That would stink.

P.S. The reason we went to brunch on Sunday was because we drank an entire bottle of cherry vodka between the two of us Saturday night while watching Now and Then and the Princess Bride. And also while arguing whether or not the location of Prague is common knowledge. I said yes, Sarah said it was in Russia. When I told her that it was in the Czech Republic, her exact words were, "Yes. Which is in Russia." Nope. Not really, friend, but good try.

And finally, good people of the internet, I cannot leave this first post of 2010 without paying homage to one of my all time favorite authors/recluses.

J.D. Salinger died at the age of 91.

The Catcher in the Rye is one of my top three favorite books of all time. Holden Caulfield is one of my all time favorite characters.

Here's to you J.D. Catch you on the flip side.

"Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be."

You can suck it too Cincinnati

Good People of the Internet! I come bearing news of my terrible, no good, very bad weekend.

First there was this.

Yeah. That still smarts, actually. We were up the whole game! AND WE LOST BY A POINT! I really...can't talk about it.


Then back to Heinz Field I went on Sunday, I was optimistic. I was not worried. I was sure that a Steelers' victory over a sub par Oakland Raiders team was sure to be the aloe to my Pitt loss wound (still...might cry a little over that. ONE POINT.) It would soothe my weary football soul.

And then. Well, I think we all know what happened.

I don't blame myself.

I'm not sure who I blame. I blame the state of Ohio, for sure. I still partially blame WVU (because they always deserve a little blame). I blame Pitt for making me think this would be the year they wouldn't break my heart (Let's recap this year shall we? Final Four? Fail. Sugar Bowl? Fail). I blame the cold weather for being cold. But mostly I blame Heinz Field for not producing the right mojo.

All I know is that Troy would have never let this happen.

I sat in the cold for two days straight for what? For nothing.

There's always next year, right?

Boo.

I'm okay with just voting Uganda off the planet

So, normally, my rants in this blog are contained to things that range from mildly ridiculous to full out ridiculous with some shout outs to Pitt (WTF WAS THE BACKYARD BRAWL ABOUT BILL STULL?!?) interspersed with some love letters to things/people/places I love. I came close once to ranting in all seriousness about Roman Polanski, and while it still makes me irate (HE RAPED A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL. Roman Polanski, GDIAF. Seriously.) I have stumbled across something that deserves my ire and righteous indignation.

First, before I bring my wrath down upon those who surely deserve it, let's give a rousing round of applause to one Mr. John Marcotte of San Francisco, California. I, for one, want one of those t-shirts with the bride and groom chained together. Make note of that. It's on my Christmas list.


Moving on.

I know I place people on my "Dead to Me" list. And that's all relatively fun and games, but this guy? Pastor Rick Warren? Can go fuck himself.

Apparently, the Ugandan government is pushing for an "Anti-Homosexuality" bill. The penalty for being gay? Lifetime imprisonment. And if you have HIV or AIDS or have sex with a minor or a disability? Death.

Oh yeah, we've come a long way. Hats off to you progressive thinkers in Uganda.

And this douche bag? Pastor Rick?

He said this:

"The fundamental dignity of every person, our right to be free, and the freedom to make moral choices are gifts endowed by God, our creator. However, it is not my personal calling as a pastor in America to comment or interfere in the political process of other nations."


You are a man of God, right? Fuck you. And then after being called out on not condemning the Ugandan government for what is clearly a huge, giant human rights violation (not to mention what should be a huge moral violation, particularly if you claim to love a God that is fair and forgiving, but that's just semantics, right?), he goes on Twitter (for the love of God. TWITTER), and tweets a fairly inaccurate and awfully snarky response: "Globally last yr 146,000 Christians were put to death because of their faith. No one, except Christians, said anything."

Where exactly are you getting your statistics from?

But moreover, I'm sorry? Does that make it okay to condemn to death 500,000 Ugandans because their sexual preference doesn't match up with your own?

I could go on, but I think the nice Wonkette reader, queeraselvis v 2.0, said it best:

"And on the night He was betrayed, Jesus took a bowl of lightly salted poisoned rat dicks and, after blessing it, gave it to Rick Warren and said, 'Take, eat. Do this in remembrance of me.'"

"I knew a vampire once. Cute as a bug. Teeth all sharpened."

Dear New Orleans,


I miss you already.

Remember that time that I came to visit? Remember how we drank Hurricanes at Pat O'Briens and sang along to some rad songs with the piano player? Do you remember the awesome guy playing the tin tray? I LOVED HIM. Almost as much as I love you.

It was a great time, wasn't it New Orleans? Did you have fun too?

There was the swamp tour! ("If a snake gets in the boat, just lift up your feet, we'll get him out." "By we, he really means he right?") And the gators! All those gators! Remember the Swamp Kittens and how Sarah fed them her Doritos? That was fun, wasn't it New Orleans?

And the French Quarter! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVED THE FRENCH QUARTER?! Bourbon and Toulouse and Chartres? Even though Bourbon street smelled like vomit and booze and urine. And even though the number of strip clubs seemed to outnumber everything else. And even when I paid 8.50 for a Blue Moon. Because it only took about a Hurricane and a half before I was good and sloshed. AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET A HANGOVER. Not once, New Orleans. Do you understand how rare that is? HOW WONDERFUL?

And then the cemetery tour! And Priestess Miriam's House O' Voodoo. Remember how our tour guide told us to peek in through windows and doors? REMEMBER HOW CREEPY/AWESOME THAT WAS?! Remember how she dropped us off in front of Armstrong Park where two tourists had been stabbed for their camera? She was crazy, New Orleans, but damn charming.

And the streetcars, New Orleans! And the World War II Museum! AND THE PAT O'BRIEN'S HURRICANES!

I miss you New Orleans. I miss your booze and your Swamp Kittens. I miss that awesome dinner we had at Coop's and the Mango Mangos every four feet on Bourbon. I miss them gators, and Muffalettas at Central Grocery. Mmmm. Muffalettas. I miss the Hotel St. Marie (but not that non-door to our bathroom). I miss the super creepy guy asking us if we want our fortunes read by Jackson Square.

I will visit again, New Orleans, hopefully soon.

Save some gator jerky and frozen daiquiris for me.


Love,

Lisa

I'm not above begging. Or blackmail.

Dear Guillermo Del Toro,

I did not know who you were. Apparently you directed the second Blade movie. I have only ever seen the first one. And also, I did a little research (thank you Google!) and found you also directed Pan's Labyrinth. Friend, I dug that movie a whole lot. But still, you were a mystery to me. An enigma. But you wrote a book. And one of my favorite new regulars let me borrow your book.

And I liked it, Guillermo (can I call you that? Or would you prefer Mr. Del Toro?). I liked it a lot. In fact, I could not put it down.

I did not realize, Guillermo, that it was the first book in a trilogy. Also, I did not realize YOU HAD NOT PUBLISHED THE SECOND AND THIRD BOOK. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!?

See, G, I promised myself after waiting two years between H.Potters that I would not do that to myself anymore. I am not very patient, Mr. Del Toro. I am a big fan of instant gratification, and I DO NOT LIKE WAITING FOR SECOND AND THIRD BOOKS TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS.

I know that this is not all your fault. I know that part of this is Paul's fault for giving me a book that was one part of an unfinished trilogy. And not telling me this prior to my reading it. You cannot be held accountable for that part in all of this.

BUT I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. So get your act together, Guillermo. Start writing. See, because I don't know if you know this, but you kind of left everything up in the air. They call those cliffhangers.

I DO NOT LIKE CLIFFHANGERS.

You seem like a reasonable person (actually I have nothing to base this on, this is pure speculation). I'm sure you can figure out a way to hurry up and get the next book published BEFORE I DO SOMETHING WE BOTH REGRET.

I swore, Guillermo, I swore I WOULD NOT GET THIS ATTACHED TO CHARACTERS WHEN I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO THEM. If you break my heart like J.K. Rowlings did, I will probably die (WHY FRED, WHY?!?). Just so you know.

Shame on you, sir. For shame. For being so DAMN AWESOME. And for writing a book about vampires that is so much better than that garbage that Stephanie Meyers puked up (I cannot blame her inferior writing on her being a Mormon because Orson Scott Card was a Mormon too, and we both know that Ender's Game kicked some serious ass).

I hope even now, as I write this, you are feverishly writing to finish the trilogy. Oh Guillermo! Think of the children. One child in particular. Me. Think about me. START WRITING.

FOR ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY IN THIS WORLD START WRITING.

That is all.

Love, Lisa

Nice turn signal!

You know what's not cool?

PEOPLE WHO CANNOT DRIVE WHO TRY TO DRIVE AND WHO IN DOING SO DRIVE ME CRAZY.

Yes.

I have come to the conclusion that most of the residents in Pittsburgh, but definitely ninety percent of those people living in Aspinwall/Fox Chapel/Sharpsburg, really, really, don't know how to drive.

Old Lady in the blue Buick, ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? I'm sorry that you are too little to see over the steering wheel. Also, I am sorry that you have a car that is approximately the size of a small yacht, but Old Lady, you almost killed me today. Please, stop driving on Route 28. See, I have my lane, and you have your lane, and YOU DON'T ACTUALLY NEED TO BE IN MY LANE, SO STAY IN YOURS!

I need to have a message board on the outside of my car. It can have pre-programmed messages for the masses. Such as "Nice turn signal asshat" and "What are you doing!? You could have gone like twelve times!" Someone invent that for me. I will buy two of them. One for the front and one for the back. I will use it all the time. I will even try to contain myself to very few mean names and I cannot promise anything, but I will try not to use sarcasm too much.

Seriously, though, Old Buick Lady. You're on my list.

Oh Mama, I'm in fear for my life

I spent the weekend at Heinz Field. I think everyone will agree that this is not a bad way to spend the weekend. In fact, a weekend spent at Heinz Field is made of absolute win.

Started on Saturday at nine in the morning. Mimosas and chili. And maybe some beer. Maybe a lot of beer. Maybe so much beer that when the score was 21-7 I told someone it was tied. ("Uh. We've scored twice more." "When did that happen?!?!")

Here is what I learned: when you start drinking nine a.m. you kind of feel like you want to die by six in the evening. I don't know how alcoholics do it. Morning drinking is kind of bad news bears.

But oh! When they play "Sweet Caroline" ("Sweet Caroline...Let's go Pitt! Good times never felt so good...Go Pitt! Go Pitt! Go Pitt!"), my heart swells a little bit. I realize that Neil Diamond has nothing to do with football or the Pitt Panthers, but that song has long been a bar favorite. And bars have alcohol and football games have drunks, so really it makes sense.

And then Steelers football. All those black and gold towels waving and all that Styx playing. And all those Brett Favre sacks. If anyone has a sack coming it's Brett "I'm a drama queen" Favre. (And that last one? Harrison's sack in the last five seconds of the game? Beautiful. It was like poetry in motion.)

It's a beautiful way to spend a fall weekend.

Get up off of that thing and dance til you feel better

I like spontaneous dance parties.

They're pretty much my favorite thing ever.

My dance moves are pretty famous, most notably the "Octopus," that shit will be sweeping the nation. Also my rain dance has been known to reduce mere mortals to tears. I'm thinking of trying out for the next season of So You Think You Can Dance.

There's something about flailing around, looking kind of like someone drowning, that brings a smile to my face. I don't think you need to be good to have fun dancing. I don't think not being good should ever stop someone from dancing. I think you just have to move your body the way that it wants to move and have fun doing it.

I like to dance around in a circle with my hands in the air. It makes me happy. I don't really care that I look like a fool. I'm pretty sure that's half the fun.

I like to twirl and dip and do the sprinkler and the shopping cart. I like to look like the kids in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Pig Pen rocks my world. He just sort of shakes his head back and forth. That's amazing.

This is why I don't care for dance clubs. Those people take themselves way too seriously. I don't really care for people who take themselves too seriously. Life is kind of a bummer sometimes. It's best not to take anything too seriously. Going out to a club, dressed in some skimpy outfit and grinding up next to some drunk stranger? Not my idea of a good time.

Now some David Bowie "Magic Dance" and a dance move that vaguely resembles having a seizure? That's so much better.

Maybe the dog can find water. I mean, dogs can find pot and bombs, so I'm sure they can find water

Know who is on my list?

ABC.

For being so freaking awesome.

Damn it ABC.

First FlashFoward? Now Lost? (Although to be accurate, those two shows should be flipped. I'm a little late coming to the party for Lost).

Bob is also on my list. Also for being awesome. He let me borrow the first two seasons of Lost. Now I'm hooked. Damn it Bob. (Reminds me of a great Bob story. When all the seasons of Gilmore Girls were being passed around the Bou, he came to me one morning and without so much of a greeting said, "Rory loses her virginity to Dean doesn't she? No! Jess! No! Dean! You know what? I don't want to know." And then walked away).

How am I supposed to do anything productive when there are Lost episodes to be watched? And Jack Shepard to look at? AND HURLEY! I LOVE HURLEY SO MUCH IT MAKES ME WANT TO DIE.

This is no good. I did not need this, ABC. Why can't you be more like NBC and have like one or two good shows and then suck at life otherwise? (Although, NBC, you are also on my list because of the latest Office. The wedding? Jim cutting off his tie? Killed me dead).

I have to go to work, ABC. And now all I will be thinking about is Locke and Sun and Claire, poor Claire, and stupid Shannon who is stupid (and who was also in the movie Taken , where she is also stupid. And runs funny. And screams a whole lot. And cries. And is stupid), and Boone who has really pretty eyes.

I will never forgive you, ABC. I hate what you have reduced me to. You and DVR. In cahoots. I HAVEN'T READ A BOOK IN TWO DAYS, ABC! YOU ARE TURNING MY MIND INTO MUSH AND I'M A WILLING PARTICIPANT. Can't you put more garbage on television? Can't you just keep putting Dancing with the Stars on? I know how to turn that off. You and your captivating television can suck it.

Are you too good for your home?!

I'm no IT expert. Never claimed to be. My favorite solution when dealing with rogue electronics is to plead with the offending object for a little while, hit it a couple of times, cry a little, and then repeat.

My computer is being lame pants. That's the only way I know how to describe it. One day it's totally all right with being connected to the interwebs and the next day FALSE YOU WILL NOT CONNECT TO THE INTERWEBS.

What's that all about Dell?

I'm currently not on my own computer (and if I get caught there will be hell to pay). My computer connected last night but this morning? Not so much. WTF computer?

Alas. My computer is telling me in its gentle way that it has little time left. BUT I DO NOT CARE. Connect to the internet! How hard is that?! I've restarted like seven times. SEVEN. That's an absurd amount of times to restart.

Don't computers WANT to connect to the internet? Isn't that really their goal in life? Why has my computer decided to be a slacker who has no real goal in life other than to see how many marshmallows it can fit in its mouth at one time? Will I come home one day to see the computer laying on the couch with a beer in one hand and cheese curl dust all over it?

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?

I know I once said that the Check Engine Light is worse than the Blue Screen of Death.

I might just have to disagree with that.

Because this sucks too.

STUPID COMPUTER. JUST CONNECT TO THE INTERNET.

I'm going to restart it one more time.

After all, eighth times the charm.

Hey! It's the guy from "Shakespeare in Love!"

I love fall. I love the leaves changing, I love football, I love sweaters and pumpkins and Halloween and Thanksgiving. I think everyone is aware of my love for Hocus Pocus.

And I love the start of new television seasons.

Here's the thing. I am not ashamed of being a giant tv addict. The invention of DVR is right up there in my book with the invention of electricity and anti-biotics. I love books for their ability to transport you to another place, and television, good television, is the lazier way to do that.

So with that being said. Flash Forward? Yes. Just. Yes.

Everyone and their mother is talking about this show. With good reason. It's a crazy awesome concept. And it's good. So far it totally kept my interest (which is saying something. I have a very short attention span and have been known to be a skimmer. I used to skim my school reading, I sometimes skim movies, and I often skim television shows. DVR owns my soul).

Point is? It's just as awesome as everyone says it is. I didn't fast forward through any of it. Not once.

"D. Gibbons is a bad man." WTF. That line right there just hooked me FOR LIFE.

Do yourself a favor. Go online and find the first two episodes and watch. This show wins at life.