Here We Go Steelers! Here We Go!

or pack your bags, Lucille... we're going to Tampa

Okay, so today is a holiday in honor of Martin Luther King. Most folks, except for us morons who chose a 24/7 profession, are off today. Good thing, too. You see last night the Steelers managed to win a berth in the Holiest of High Holy games...the Super Bowl. They didn't just win the game...they won the game at HOME, which hasn't happened here for a long 13 years.

Even though the evening's performance was less than inspiring, all was forgiven when the long-flowing, raven-haired Adonis, Troy Polamalu intercepted a Raven's pass and scrambled into the end zone with 4:24 left on the clock--bringing the 65,000+ to their feet in a golden Terrible Towel waving frenzy. (Of course I had to call my big sister in NJ to celebrate her boy's victory. I knew she'd be cheering her head off. She was.)

A coworker was at the game and said about three quarters of the fans hung around for the ceremony and Zambelli fireworks. It's Pittsburgh...there are ALWAYS fireworks. We're fireworks happy here. And they are the best! Somehow I don't think these folks minded the long wait to get out of the parking lot. I know people in our neighborhood were hooting and hollering long into the night.

Here's another reason why I love my town...

At the Pens game earlier in the day, fans were encouraged to bring their Terrible Towels to wave in support of the Steelers match. Which they did, along with signs like "You're in Steelers Country". I'm happy to report my beloved Boys of Winter defeated the Rangers 3-0. When our goalie, Marc-Andre Fleury skated out to acknowledge being the #1 star of the game, guess what...he was donning a gold throwback Steelers helmet and waving a towel. You gotta love it.

Yep. We're all family here.

Friday Photo #10  

what the??!?? *teeth chattering* 

Okay, so I wake up this morning to a definite chill in the air. I run downstairs to punch up the heat when I see this... 45 degrees!?!!! What the?!? 45 degrees...the HOUSE is 45 degrees!?! 

The furnace, she is making noise, but she no produce the heat. Sassy wench. 

It is literally -5 degrees outside...and the furnace isn't working. Are you KIDDING ME? I'm like freaking Bob Cratchet here! I'm in layers...I'm in a coat and scarf...my hands are so cold, I have to stuff them in my crotch for warmth between sentences. YOW! That's cold...even through the long johns. 

The furnace dude promises me he'll be here some time between now and the vernal equinox. Great. Take your time. I should be an ice fossil by then.

AND to top it off, I exited iPhoto without ejecting my photo card properly and have now lost all of my videos of my beloved fantasy second husband and hottie, Rhett Miller from said card. Stupid Stupid procedures!

 *whimpers* ice crystal tears scraping her cheek*

*sigh* This day has the potential to really blow. 

On a positive note though, I won't need ice cubes for the numerous cocktails I plan to consume today... you know, for warmth. Yeah, for warmth. Cheers! 

A Hockey Night In Pittsburgh 

or hmmmm...who knew it could be so dirty 

Okay, so our little nephew won free tickets to last night's Penguins game. It was a crushing 6-3 loss for my beloved Pens. The final humiliating blow being an empty net goal with three minutes left and us with a TWO-MAN ADVANTAGE!!?! Oh the pain! *sob*

Anywho, I'm very vocal at games. Surprise! (not) It's difficult not to get caught up in the atmosphere and start screaming things at random. The thing is... I never noticed how dirty sounding the crowd banter is when taken out of context. Last night I suddenly became aware of the off-color nature of my (and others) remarks...

"Get it in!!"

"Get it out!!!"

"Keep it in!

"Get back in the crease!!"

"Get out of that end!"

That'swhatshsaid!That'swhatshesaid!That'swhatshesaid!That'swhatshesaid!That'swhatshesaid!

...I think I need a cigarette.

On Golden Globes

Yeah...I'm talkin' about you, Rita

It's January which means only one thing...tis the awards season. It starts with the People's Choice and motors on until the Mother of all awards shows... the Oscars (which seems to be scheduled earlier and earlier every year). And although all the glitz and glamour surrounding the Oscars is a great treat for me personally...I have to admit the Golden Globes is my favorite.

Seriously. If I was ever able to be a seat filler, the double Gs would be my choice, hands down. I love, love, love how they're so loosey-goosey. I mean, come on...they have a bar. Not just a bar--an OPEN bar, which is tapped quite often by the attending honorees. As the amount of alcohol consumption increases, so does the entertainment factor. By the time the last of the statuettes is dolled out, the accepting tongues are quite free-wheeling.

I love how the redneck cousin Television contingent gets to mix it up with the Hollywood elite. It's such a great party atmosphere. They all sit at round tables stocked with a generous bucket of champagne and are free to roam about chatting up their peers and idols. Plus there is no straight line to the stage. Each winner is forced to weave around table after table where they are met with high-fives, broad smiles--even some celebratory whoops. The decibel level is so loud and chatty returning from the breaks, they practically needed a bullhorn to settle the troops down for the presenters to be heard. Who wouldn't want to attend? Everyone has such a great time. It's a Hep-Cat Hootenanny awash in tuxes and ta-tas!

Speaking of "ta-tas", this year the path to the stage wound past the cheering section of Tom and Rita Hanks. I don't know if that was indeed the quickest way to retrieve their candy-coated prize or the dudes just wanted to get a closer look at Rita's spectacularly displayed globes.

Yowza! Seriously. The girls were promenading proudly. I mean, she walked into the room, and then... she walked into the room. If you know what I mean. Not bad for an old broad. Mrs. Hanks wasn't the only one either. Salma took her Hayeks out for a lovely spin as well.

As my hubby would say, "I'm sorry. Were you speaking?"

Other highlights (yes, there were other, non-physical highlights)...

Tracey Jordan delivering the acceptance speech for 30 Rock.

You know, he sounds drunk to me even when he's sober, but tipsy he's extra slurry. He delivered this non sequitur "Welcome to postracial America--I am the face of postracial America. Deal with it, Cate Blanchett!" (wha???) Then he proceeded to thank random posse members, DJ Dave, Crotch Rot Carl, Pencil Dick Pete...who the hell knows. Honestly I couldn't understand him, but his ramble was funnier than anything else I'd heard him do before. Finally, Alec Baldwin (being all Alec Baldwinie in his cool, Alec Balwin whisper) leaned in to remind him to at least thank the producer.

Tina Fey was her usual brilliant wit, claiming to own all of the Foreign Press action figures and calling out all the bloggers who slammed her during the year by telling them all (in particular "Dianefan") to "suck it".

But by far the biggest surprise was Mickey Rourke's fairly amusing acceptance speech which was sprinkled with more than one reference to someone's balls, and ending with his producer jokingly flipping him the bird. I guess it's safe to say NBC wasn't broadcasting in delay. Naughty Naughty, NBC. 

Plus, the top movie honors went to Woody Allen's Vicki Cristina Barcelona and an relatively unknown Indian entry Slumdog Millionnaire. You never see that at the Oscars.

All that and they finished on time. Yep. The double Gs are definitely worth the price of admission.

The Curious Case of The Crowded Cinema  

or baby blogger's first movie review... 

When Geo was a freelancer in the 90s we went to a lot of movies. A LOT of movies. At least one or two a week. It was great. We'd go in the afternoon, armed with the requisite ten gallon vat of popcorn and 55 gallon drum of liquid, and settle in for an afternoon of darkened theater escapism. Most of the time we'd end up being two of maybe 10-12 people in the theater. We saw everything...independent movies, foreign films, mainstream. Whatever. 

Nowadays we're lucky to see a handful per year. You see Geo has a lot of rules for movie going now. He hates, hates, HATES when people talk during the movie and he's not too fond of crowds these days. Ergo, we don't go in the evenings, weekends or holidays. Being that he works until 6pm, that leaves zero situations for us to visit ye olde cinema. Although he usually takes off a day or two for either my birthday or our anniversary so we can spend the entire day in the dark slowly swelling up from eating waaaay too much popcorn. 

That said, I went to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last Saturday night with my sister and her husband. Not Geo, you know, because of the whole "rules" thang. 

By the time we got there for the 2:45 showing, the previews had started. We bounded up the ramp, turned the bend at the top and found the ENTIRE THEATER PACKED!?! What the Eff? I realize I haven't been to a theater on a Saturday afternoon in a while, but... come on! There were only singles sparsely scattered throughout. Three of us...single seats, no thank you. Then I noticed a half wall in the back which corralled a smaller section of comfy leather lounge chairs. 

What kinda fascist caste system is this?  

Considering the lack of ample seating below, but lots of empty, comfy seats above I figured, what the hell. Let's use them. So my sister and I plopped down in the first row. Our butts hadn't even had a chance to warm the cold leather yet when the Comfy Chair Nazi swooped down upon us demanding to see our VIP ticket stub, ID, proof of our lineage and a blood sample. Okay, so I'm exaggerating. They didn't want our ID. 

Testing the philosophy that it is easier to get forgiveness than permission, I said we didn't have the aforementioned bourgeois VIP tickets. I mean, come on. There were loads of empty seats here in the lofty lounge. Surely he would take pity on us and give us a pass considering the lack of seating below deck. 

Alas, the power-hungry, prickly-faced, pubescent cast us out of Eden into the bowels of the cinematic underworld. Did I mention he was "prick"-ly-faced? I think I did. Our only remaining choices for seating were the first two neck-snapping rows. 

Resigned to our fate, we plopped down.. scrunched down.. hunched down as best we could for the slimmest..I mean, greatest optimum viewing. The last time I sat this close to the screen, I was a very young and nimble lass whose neck sprang back to its original shape in seconds. Now...not so much.

We were so close, I swore I was going to get sucked up into Cate Blanchett's flaring nostrils never to be heard from again. As it turns out, the movie was engrossing enough for me to forget my physical discomfort. That is until the credits rolled and I had difficulty releasing my neck from its upright and locked position. After what seemed an eternity and a thousand LOUD crunches later, fluidity returned to my vertebrae enabling me to look forward once again. 

Did I mention the Teutonic teen was PRICK-ly faced? 

Wait...this was supposed to be a movie review, wasn't it. 

The film I highly recommend.  Besides being a terrific story, the energetic, youthfully restored Brad Pitt is worth the price of admission. Seriously. But for the love of your movable parts, get to the theater early. 

Them teenagers are mean.

To Slur, With Love (borrowed from VSL...sorry) 

or why Jeff Goldblum in slow mo rocks  

Okay, so I've mentioned in a prior posting about this daily online newsletter my Geo subscribes to called Very Short List. Its goal is to share what's hip and happening on the internet. 

Anyway, this week contained another gem...the eight best "Drunk Jeff Goldblum" videos. A YouTuber (is that a noun now? sounds like a veggie.. "i'll have the roasted duck with a side of mashed YouTuber, Ceasar salad and the Pinot Noir." "Excellent choice, Sir") took all the old--like ten years ago old--iMac commercials starring Senior Goldblum and  slowed them down for hilarious effect. They Are Brilliant!! 

Here's a sample:

You can watch all eight on this site here. Trust me, it's worth it.

I had the pleasure of meeting ole Jeffrey a couple of years back when he was shooting his "documentary" Pittsburgh. He is delightfully... wacky. I don't know how else to describe him. He tends to stare a bit when you speak to him and his cadence is a little unsettling and... off. He's definitely peculiar, but in a charming way. In any case, the movie is a decent rental. 

But, seriously, these videos ROCK!! 

Be forewarned--make sure you don't have a mouth full of soda when viewing, cause that puppy will be spewing from your nose. As Ralphie from The Simpsons says, "it tastes like burning". Enjoy!

Breaking News! Storm of the Year Update

or In-AccuWeather strikes again...

And the grand total of snowfall for the storm of the year is....

a whopping.... INCH!? Psyche!!

Oh AccuWeather. Will you ever stop toying with us? Why you alwayz gotz to play to our fearz n'at?

Kind of reminds me of that old joke...

"Why is sex like snow? You never know how many inches you're going to get or how long it will last."

Clearly this team of experts is clueless. Thank God I'm not bumping uglies with any of these guys. Seriously. All talk, no action. Oh well...winter just started. They're bound to get one right sooner or later. Right? Feh. Don't bet on it.