In my estimation, though decidedly unscientific and largely clouded by drink, the turnout this past Sunday at the Pour House for the Steelers and Browns tilt was the largest of the season to date. It's helps the the game wasn't broadcast on local TV, because Dan Snyder can't brook competition for woefully underachieving football and its befuddled coach.
Good to know, as I nearly keeled over a few times from anxiety and frustration, usually whenever the Steelers had to cover a goddamn kickoff. There might have been a least someone willing to call the paramedics or drag my ass out to the curb.
This coming week is a little interesting for me, as the first Steelers game I watched at the Pour House was the divisional round playoff game following the 2004 season against the Jets. Having weathered (read: narrowly escaped) that one, little wonder that I consider the place lucky.
Observe: Here is our halftime ritual of tossing the ol' pigskin around Pennsylvania Avenue, on the median strip or in the road itself, usually with little regard to oncoming traffic. Yeah, we're stupid, stupid drunks.
The Batman and this woman are showing the two schools of reacting to Shannon Sharpe commentary. She look bewildered and possibly frightened by his mushmouthery, while The Batman knows there is no understanding Shannon and merely laughs at the funny sounds.
Call me a stickler if you will, but I'm not a huge fan of the gold jersey. Boobies jutting out from said gold jersey? Those'll do.
Can't say I'm really sure what's going on in this photo. Serious discussion about the situation in Pakistan? The beginnings of a summer-autumn romance? I can see from the background, that the 4 o'clock Cowboys-Giants game had been going on. Perhaps, to pass the time, they were in an epic staring contest. It might be still be going on. I fully expect to arrive about 3 p.m. this Sunday and see these two, haggard and sweaty, straining to stare each other down. She's got the advantage of sitting down. I'm going lady on this one.