Search This Blog

Thursday, February 5, 2009

More Bits And Pieces  
or cleaning out my mind's attic...

As  noted in the prior posting, my muse hit the highway some time last week and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. (www.nataliedee.com)

So I figured I'd just toss a bunch of random mental trash on the junk heap. 

1. As if you didn't know, the Steelers won the Super Bowl lasts Sunday. Pittsburgh celebrated with a "Salute to the Champions" parade on Tuesday. 350,000+ Steelers Nation faithful lined the Boulevard to cheer and revel in the glory of our unprecedented sixth title. Some of the players stepped off their cars and walked the parade route. One went one step further...

Yes, Troy Polamalu treated his rabid fans with a repeat of his crowd dive from 2005. You can see a much cleaner, professional video from a rival TV station here. Can you say "crowd pleaser"?

2. So apparently an Arizona newspaper reporter has been bad mouthing Steelers fans. He was saying crap like we're just a bunch of rude, ignorant rubes who are loud and ill-mannered. WaWaWa...sore loser. Does this cat not know there is an entire NATION of Steelers fans around the country and the world...even in Phoenix?!? What a douche. Perhaps he and the other Cardinals fans should remove the stick from their collective butts and learn how to have some good, old-fashioned, blue collar fun. Bottom line is they can say anything they want. The fact remains we have six Lombardi trophies AND Troy Polamalu stage diving. In the words of Tina Fey... he can just suck it.

3. Okay, so remember my "wiener of the week" posting from January 28th wherein I spoke of a co-worker's anxiety over what was prowling around in her new beau's pantaloons? No? Well you can read it here, then come back.... I'll wait.....

(whistling Jeopardy theme....) 

Done, okay. So last night we were at a wine tasting with one of our favorite couples. Afterwards we were at a bar when I told my girlfriend Kels about my wiener posting. Well... she has her own horrendous hambone horror story. 

Get this!! She once dated a guy who had one ball ... and two holes.

I repeat... Two. Holes.

The one ball thing is no big deal, but he had TWO HOLES. 

I mean, come on. That just brings up all kinds of questions.... what happened to his other nard... what's with the two holes... seriously, does like .. pee come flying out in two different directions?  How the hell does one end up with two holes in his schlong? A Prince Albert piercing gone horribly wrong? A shaky Mohel at a Bris? A bizarre bicycle accident? (seriously...who's bright idea was it to make boys bikes with that scrotum crushing bar, anyway?)  What could possibly have happened to this dude to turn his tube steak into a meat whistle.

Of course, she was so stunned (and much more of a lady than I) she never talked to him about it, thereby denying we twisted and curious from obtaining the (w)hole story. Sorry. had to do it. Oh well. Maybe it's more fun to ponder anyway. 

4. I haven't obsessed about the king of all my things lately, so here's a video just for me... because it's MY blog, dammit!! 

One of the best parts of Rhett's solo shows is his storytelling and banter with the audience. This is classic. And, no... they won't play at your wedding... unless you have lots and lots of money to throw their way. 

Hmmmmm... note to self... if we ever win the lottery... restring all your guitars and pack up all your stuff, boys. You're playing at my house!
In Which I Admit I Suck At This Blogging Thang Lately  

Mea Culpa

I don't know what's up, but lately I've been really scattered. I can't seem to focus on something...anything entertaining to write about. My muse has apparently motored south for the winter, to bask in the glory of the warm sun and sip Mojitos poolside in that skimpy little leopard bikini that used to look so hot on me until, you know, excess stuff started settling in around my mid-section, but of course it still looks fantastic on her because she's a freaking "muse" and therefore immune to getting fat or cottage cheesey in all the wrong places (not that there are any places on one's body in which being cottage cheesey is acceptable). But is she happy with merely mocking me by looking uber sexy in my own bathing suit... No!! She has to rub it in by sending postcards of her antics with young, muscular pool boys named Sven and Gunther. AND if that's not bad enough, she stabs my very heart by getting my one, true, fantasy love, Rhett Miller to kiss her!?

Stupid little skank. Do you see how she taunts me? I miss you, Muse. Please come back.