Friday Photo #38

Alas, Mr. Snowstorm. We Meet Yet Again...

Okay, so believe it or not, it hasn't snow here for about four days.

*Gasp!*

I know, right? But wait, there's more. Fueled by a mysterious large, glowing orb I believe you call the Sun, the temps were high enough to start the big melt. So much so, we could see actual grass here and there.

No shit. Grass. Seriously.

Not to mention I actually wore footwear other than my spectacular bright orange, quilted Lands End snow shoes.

Hurrah!! It seemed things were starting to look up. I could see a faint light at the end of Winter's dark, dank, miserable tunnel.

Aaaaah, but February, that fat f*ck, had other sadistic ideas and decided to dump yet another substantial storm on our collective heads this morning. So I have once again donned my bright orange PennDot galoshes, pulled my hood tightly over my pea-sized head and armed myself with our super-scooper shovel to push to the curb the latest load of the Lord's beauty.

And now my fingers are numb and burning from spreading salt like I was tossing beads to tanked-up, topless Tarts at Mardi Gras.

Whoa Whoa Whoa. Not so fast. Hold on there, Skippy. It's STILL snowing...steadily. So I'll get to do the shoveling and the salting and the grousing all over, again and again and again. The only good thing is this time around, I'm off today so I don't have to go to work and deal with all that madness.

February has officially become the snowiest month on record. Oh Bravo! Well done! You can stop with the overachieving now you silly be-yatch. But, nooooo. This menacing month will just not go quietly. Much like that crazy-ass Glenn Close character, Alex in Basic Instinct she refuses to be ignored. I just hope it doesn't leave any "surprises" like boiling bunnies for us to find.

Hey, wait a minute. I don't remember leaving that big pot on the stove...

I've Got Olympic Fever On Ice, BABY!!

or how I gave up my figure skating obsession for men tossing rocks

Okay, so in the past I've been a huge figure skating junky. I mean HUGE. I would live for the singles men's and women's skating competition. I actually used to get bummed out if I missed any of the Olympic coverage.

Not this year.

I'm still about men and women on ice, but this year it is all about the Curling and the Hockey. But mainly the Curling.

Seriously.

Dude, it is AWESOME!!

Yeah, watching guys and gals tossing stones down an icy pitch, sweeping them to their final resting spot sounds dorky and stupid and more like something you'd casually do with friends at your side and a beer in your hand on a Saturday night, but it is a full-on Olympic gold medal sport.

And I gotta tell ya...it is EXCITING! No shit!

For those unfamiliar, Curling is a lot like Bocce on ice. Each team throws eight stones per End and there are 10 Ends per game. The skip releases the rock and two teammates guide the stone, curling it into position around the opposing teams rocks by brushing vigorously with a broom. The team closest to the center target or button wins the point(s). Just like in Bocce.

The thing is this game is a thinking man's sport. There's a lot of strategy involved. Much like Chess, each team must think one or two plays ahead. As with Bocce, you could have three stones in scoring position, and then just like that... one well-placed toss can knock all of your men out of contention. If both teams are tied after 10 ends, the game goes into sudden death overtime. I have to tell you, I have seen some real stand-up and shout-out-loud, nail-biting battles in overtime.

Okay. You can quit laughing now.

Sadly the USA men are in a downward spiral and won't make the playoffs, but the women are hanging on. Honestly, it doesn't really matter to me if the USA is in the running or not. The Brits and Canadians are kicking some major ass in these games and are enormous fun to watch. The Brits (a team of handsome Scotsman with their irresistible accents) are running a clinic on the perfect way to curl.

And then there are the Norwegians and their pants:

They've caused quite the stir. Their pants have a Facebook page...with over 250,000 friends.

Yes. You heard me correctly. Their pants have a Facebook page. Team Norway is also heading to the playoffs to add a little color to the proceedings.

My love of all-things-curling has gotten me a lot of ribbing by my friends and coworkers, but there is a growing group of work buds who are becoming Curling enthusiasts. We're seriously considering starting our own group, The KD Kurlers. Of course we'll have to get us some of them fancy pants to wear with our curling hats.

Queen of the Dorks

Even our nephews have caught the fever. They've dug out their own pitch in the snow on their front lawn. And they invited me to join in.

Boys after my own heart.

And then there was the USA vs. Canada hockey match last night.

Holy Crap!! What a game!

From the get-go this game was played with the speed and intensity of Game 7 in the Stanley Cup finals. Both teams were flying from end to end, checking hard and firing blistering slap shots on goal. It was incredible!

The US lead 2-1 going into the 2nd period, but Canada tied it up before Chris Drury rapped a loose puck around Canada's goalie, Marty Brodeur to put the US up 3-2 late in the period. (FYI, beating Brodeur is a special treat for any Pens fan) America scored again seven minutes into the third for a 4-2 lead.

Then Sid, the Kid closed the gap to one point with three minutes to go. Canada pulled their goalie and with roughly 50 seconds on the clock, America's Ryan Kesler, wrapped in a tussle with a Canadian, managed to dive around the outside of his opponent, somehow connect with the puck and shoot it into the empty net. Brilliant! Best empty net... EVAH!

A link to the NBC footage of the empty net goal is here. Hopefully you can watch it because it is soooo worth viewing. The US is now guaranteed a playoff berth thanks in large part to our goalie's performance of a lifetime. Ryan Miller stopped 42 of the 45 shots on goal. Absolutely phenomenal! It is going to be one HELL of a playoff series.

Check it out. Our goalie...R. Miller. Gee, who does that name remind me of? Hmmmm...

Of course!

Oh, come on. Like you didn't know that was coming. It's been a while since I posted his beauteous visage here. Besides, he already looks crazy-hot all sweaty. You know he'd just rule that uniform.

Friday Video #... Oh Who Really Gives A Shit What Number It Is

or Attention all humans with a 12 year old sense of humor: this video is dedicated to you

Okay, so I was wasting time on Facebook...er, I mean doing research online this morning when I came across this gem of a news story posted by my #1 entertainment guru, Jimmy McParkway.

Holy Crap! This has got to be one of the funniest things my Earthling eyes have seen in a while. It is an actual, legitimate news package from a station in Tempe, Arizona. My inner 12 year old boy is having a grand time with this one.

I'm not going to say anymore about it so as not to ruin your fun. All I will say is read all the on-screen comments. The comments are what makes it... and you might not want to drink anything whilst you're watching it.

Enjoy!

Oh no they d'dn't just give the address, did they! They sure did. It's like they're promoting a Penis Pilgrimage. Pack up the kiddos Mom and Dad! It's time to pay homage to the Wondrous Wooden Wang. Yea!!!

Tempe... I want to go to there.

And now I'm off to view the more family friendly fare of Curling... and watch grown men get there rocks off.

25 Years And Counting

or I could swear we were promised silver...

Okay, so Geo and I met in a past life, found each other again on a street corner and married 25 years ago today.

It was a bright, sunny, snow filled day. Roughly 120 friends and family packed into the little gold-domed Ukrainian church. We had a traditional Orthodox wedding. Geo's preference. I was a religious free agent at the time and had no affiliation of any sort. There was no music, just choral chanting, but we wore crowns...

were tied together with an embroidered dish towel and took three laps around the altar before being pronounced husband and wife.

We also lost a couple of witnesses during the forty-five minute festivities. They dropped like rocks from standing so long in the unusually warm sanctuary.

*Wham* Oh-oh. There goes Kenny.

Luckily no blood was shed. Just some minor bruising and one big welt.

You know how people always tell you how you won't remember anything about your wedding day after the fact? Well, I remember a lot of it.

I remember sitting around all morning with nothing to do, then

Blammo!!

Suddenly activity was amped up to a frenzy. I was a veritable blur of white satin and tulle as I frantically donned my dress and veil--that stupid, stupid veil which made me cry an ocean of tears every time I put that f*cker on my head. Veil doesn't have the same letters as "Evil" for nothing--shoved me and the copious amounts of cloth into my Dad's big-ass Buick and dashed off to the church.

I remember my Dad trying to talk me out of getting married as we stood in the vestibule behind the wedding party waiting to walk down the aisle. Seriously. He kept telling me we could run out front, jump back in his car and high-tail it out of there. No shit. Who does that? Ha Ha! I think he was joking, but I'm still not sure.

Doesn't he look handsome all decked out in his fancy tuxedo?

I remember that big, honking, ominous three-bar cross forcefully placed under the word "obedience" when it came time for me to say my vows. In my head there was a dramatic pause followed by an audible gasp from my side of the room (most likely from my dear, protective sisters) as everyone held their breath, waiting to see if I'd actually utter that word. Geo, his eyes silently pleading with me to say the offending noun, trying to tell me telepathically he'd never hold me to it. The notion of an obedient wife was a bit of an issue with me back then. Now, not so much. Like I could ever be the pushover little house Frau. Pa-lease! My mouth's waaay too big. Ha! But seriously, in my head...there was totally a dramatic "Dun Dun Dun Duuuuuuh!!" playing in the background.

I remember my parents missing our toast, because they got lost on the way to the reception.

I remember not eating much which was just wrong because the food was really yummy. I didn't get to drink much either. An oversight I believe I have made up for quite well over the last 25 years.

I remember Geo giving me the major skunk eye when it came time for the ritual cutting of the cake. We agreed to be civilized and gingerly place the morsel of confectionery goodness in each other's gobs, even though the unruly mob was shrieking for a frosting feud.

Do you see the warning in his eyes. He totally thought I'd cave and shove that puppy right up his nose. Ha Ha!

Most of all I remember laughing and dancing and spending this spectacular shindig with our most cherished family and friends.

The DJ, who came with boxes and boxes of 45s and LPs (it was 1985 after all. CDs were a new-fangled invention then) was ready to play "Goodnight, Sweetheart" to kiss off the evening. He had done a fabulous job adhering to our musical wishes, especially by refusing to play Wham's "Wake Me Up Before You Go, Go". Eeewwwww!! *shudder* I HATED THAT SONG!! I still do. My friends didn't believe we had banished that song and tried to request it. But Bernie B (that was his handle) came through by leaving that puppy at home. Score!!

Wait...what was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Anywho, I was having none of that sappy "Goodnight Sweetheart" crap. I wanted to hear Madonna's "Holiday". Again, it was 1985. And besides it's a good song. It is! Very festive and danceable. Oh, shut up. It was my wedding, and that's what I wanted to hear.

One of my fondest memories is of that last song. All of my siblings were hovering around me like a big ole blob of humanity. We were all singing and dancing as best a blob can when my brother decided he had to bite my veil off of my head like a starving, mad dog feverishly shaking a bone. Then of course it ended up on his head, where the evil thing made him cry an ocean of tears. I kid. He just cried a little. :D

And just like that... it was over.

It was time to leave the party and start our life together.

25 years is a long time, yet it feels like just yesterday. I guess it's true what they say. Time does fly when you're having fun. All I know is I love Geo more now than I ever thought imaginable. We've had our ups and downs, but he remains my True North, my love, my friend, my heart.

Because I know you aren't sick at all reading about me and my life, here are a few more photos from the day we jumped the broom... just for you.

There's always a wise-ass in the family. Geo's bro Mark is that guy.

My College pals. We were into the sunglass thing. I don't know why. It's just what we did.

Dancing like white guys to new wave 80s big hair hits

More fun folks from high school and college we're blessed to still have in our lives

Aawwww! Ain't we adorable? *choke* *choke* *gag*

Snowmageddon Part 2: This Time It's Personal

or how to turn Snowmageddon into Snowapaloosa

With friends by your side, all things are enjoyable.

As I eluded to in the last post, pretty much the entire morning staff was holed up at the downtown Hilton Tuesday night in an attempt to insure we all made it to work and on the air by 4:30am.

Let me throw this out there: TV people are F-U-N!!

I don't know if our goofiness is a mechanism by which to deal with all the horribleness of human nature, boredom or just some "serious" gene lacking in our DNA. Whatever. We're an irreverent lot with the ability to find the twisted humor in almost anything.

That said, we all made the very best of our sleep over Tuesday night.

Once we made sure we all had our overnight bag in order, the real decisions had to be made. First things first, Jill, our Pittsburgh Today Live producer procured two large vats of wine. Score! Beets and I made a run for the essentials...snacks! and lots of them. Double Score!!

Next up, Beets and I changed into our "lounge wear" aka/jammies, headed for Jill and Carrie's room, cracked open the vino...

tore open the feed bags and let the partay begin.

We weren't going to let a little snow stop our fun. What do grown women, loopy on wine do in a snow storm? Why jump on the bed, of course. Warning. Those ceilings are LOW. But, hey. What's a few knots on your head when your amongst friends, right?

A knock on the door and here comes Patty and Brandon. Brandon tried his hand at bed jumping.

Knock, Knock here comes Dickie and Casey to join the festivities and open the second bottle of vino.

Hurry up with the uncorking, boys. We're getting dry over here.

Knock, Knock. Here comes Matt and Dave. The gang's all here now. What do you suppose the weight restriction is on that bed?

Sufficiently buzzed, we decided to get some grub to soak up the alcohol. Obviously the camera was just as blurry-eyed as we were.

How many adults can you fit into a hotel elevator?

We pretty much took over the bar at Max and Erma's for dinner and $3 kick-ass Margaritas.

Dear Menu: Sure I'll have another Rita if you insist.

Jimmy McParkway finally showed up & snapped a shot with me and Beets...in our jammy tops. Aren't we fetching? LOL!

On the way back we wreaked havoc in the plaza...snowball fight, carousing in the fountain (sorry the photos are really dark)

and snow angels in front of the hotel.

And we all made it to work on time for more non-stop storm coverage... some, mainly me and Beets a little hung over and in need of the brain-cell triggering power of java. Delicious, life-sustaining Toasted Almond java to be exact. Mmmmmmmm... Thanks Crazy Mocha. We owe you.

So to recap. Staying alone in hotel during latest storm of the century... BLOWS. Sequestered in a hotel with lots of crazy work buds during the second hit of the storm of the century... ROCKS!!

And that's how we turned a miserable Snowmageddon into a spectacular Snowapaloosa. As much fun as it was, enough now. I'd rather we all got stranded together at the beach next time.

I Sorta Survived Snomageddon 2010 And All I Got Was Wet Pants

...and a sore back ...and no parking spot ...and a slight hangover ...

(these events are so epic, it will take more than one post to convey. you've been warned)

Okay, so last Thursday I get a call from my boss asking if I want to be put up at the Hilton Friday night at the company's expense to insure I get to work on Saturday morning. Something you might not know about me, I don't watch the news--any news--when I'm home. Ergo, I was completely unaware of the impending Close Encounter of The White Flake Kind poised at our collective doorstep overnight Friday.

But being that they NEVER offer to put us up anymore, I jumped at the chance. I also figured I could slip Geo my room key and we could have a romantic hotel interlude on the company dime. We were both excited by this prospect until our adult self did the math and being the kill-joy it is, channeled Dwight Schruite and bellowed these facts:

FACT: I would have to go to actual sleep by 9:00pm in order to rise at 3am to face a 12+ hour day.

FACT: It's not a suite, nay one room with one TV poised directly at the bed

FACT: Geo would want to watch TV all night

FACT: I would murder him in his sleep for keeping me up when I have to be up by 3am to endure a 12+ hour day because, you know...it's all about me

So I reluctantly left my Honey's company at 8pm, trudging through the first eight inches of part one of Snowmageddon to catch what turned out to be the last trolley to Buffalo, NY...er, I mean downtown SnowBurgh to sit alone in my lonely room with no one to frolic in the sparkly white stuff. All I really wanted to do was stay home snuggled on the couch with Geo in front of a roaring fire eating freaking Bon Bons and watch the telly. But, NOOOOOO. I had to go into television.

*sigh*

It looked like this when I went to bed.

It looked like this when I woke up.

WTF??!? It.Never.STOPPED!

My 1000 yard journey from hotel room to newsroom was blocked by 15 inches of snow drifting to more than 20 inches, enormous felled tree limbs and a constant fall of quiet, heavy, steady snow that showed no sign of letting up.

We ended up being on the air non-stop for seven hours. It was incredible. Fortunately our boss had the foresight to schedule an extra body on the crew to provide breaks for everyone. I got to make a food run with one of the photogs around noon. The city roads were horrendous. We were in a Jeep and still fishtailing everywhere. The intersections were the worst where the snow that was plowed collected into 15+ inch deep spans impassable by anything except SUVs.

As I was dealing with work-related storm issues, poor Geo was home alone facing this.

My beloved Rita's under this mess.

All in all, we fared pretty well. Just some broken limbs and a crushed bush, but enough about me. Hey Ooooo!! Come on. It's funny!

Hey look, kids! It's Mount Recycle and his little pal Clyde the Gnome.

Yeah... We're not gonna be using that bin for a while.

I ended up staying yet another night in town because the trolley which I'd used to travel to work, closed operations due to storm-related happenings. So much for my bright idea to take public transport.

Geo finally sprung me on Sunday. I could not WAIT to get home. Of course that only lasted one night then it was back to the Hilton for Snowmageddon Part 2: This Time It's Personal. At least on Tuesday night I wasn't alone. There were a ton of us staying over which turned Snowmageddon into Snowapaloosa. More on that in the next post.

Meanwhile, it's day six. It's STILL snowing. There are still people without power. Most of the city limits remain covered in two feet of unploughed snow. A lot of people can't get out of their houses because of excessive snow and fallen timbers blocking their exit. The city streets are horrible. Epic fail on their part. City officials simple cannot get their shit together. I think the urban brain trusts are up to plan C or D or X for snow removal.

The Burbs on the other hand did an outstanding job. The main roads in our little town are perfect and most of the streets are clear to at least one lane of traffic. However, six days later there are still people in our neighborhood who haven't dug out their cars like this one.

UGH!! Yes, that is a car's side view mirror weakly peaking out of that snow mound.

But we have seen the return of the Pittsburgh Parking Chair!!

It's kind of a tradition around here to place a chair, recycling bin, table, whatever in the spot you've painstakingly and painfully cleared out in an attempt to prevent some A-hole from parking in your spot before you return from work. Jimmy McParkway tells me the notorious parking chair is illegal, but whatev. It's Pittsburgh, Dude. People uphold tradition here.

We had a blizzard in '93 in which people in my burb were actually having fist fights over parking spots. The police decided to collect all of the parking chairs and stash them at the pool parking lot in an attempt to stem the feuding.

It's a humorous sight, isn't it?

Okay, I admit it. It really is beautiful, but damn it's getting old. Every day I trudge through snow. The bottoms of my pants are constantly wet. Every morning poor Geo has to shovel yet again. The bleakest part is it's only mid February and there's no warm up in sight. This shit's not going anywhere until April. Seriously.

On a brighter note, because I am an optimist--I know, right? Who knew?--our vodka is staying nice and chilled on the back deck. :-)

Anywho, until the big thaw occurs coinciding with the end of days sometime in 2012, here are some more photos from the morning after. You have to admit... It really is pretty.