Breaking Bread with the Enemy [Pittsburgh]
A friend CK asked me if I’d be interested in joining her rugby team for their fundraiser – all you can drink domestic drafts, all you can eat wings and pizza for 20 dollars for the Super Bowl. Normally, I’d say no, because I actually like watching the game, but since I neither gave a shit about the Steelers nor the Seahawks, the idea then turned – maybe I can drink myself from remembering this Super Bowl.
SIDE NOTE: If you’re not from Cleveland, you can’t understand the animosity between the Steelers and the Browns. They hate us, we hate them more. They’re somebody you have to hate, like the Yankees, the Lakers, Hanson’s “Um Bop” song, people that sing along to Creed, and George W. Bush. So then it dawned on me – let’s make this fun. I was going to make shirts that attack the literate Steeler Fan. I was going to make shirts that read the following, and again if you don’t understand sports and/or Cleveland Mythos maybe you should stop reading. But the shirts were going to say:
1) Ben Roethlisberger’s mother calls him Ben, but she calls me Papi
- Inspired by my Puerto Rican brethren
2) Hey Jerome, my kid likes to ride the short bus too
- But I’m going to miss saying, “Run Big Fat Black Man, Run.” We all will.
3) Polamalu, great football player, bad lay
- It was intended for my friend CK to wear, because her hatred stems almost as deep, mine is just older. And when a woman can still consider Bernie Kosar athletic knowing that he runs like the gay black guy from “Revenge of the Nerds,” it shows that she’s compassionate, delusional, and overwhelmed with Cleveland Pride.
But it didn’t happen – it would have cost 50 dollars per shirt, and I’m no pimp with ho’s and cash to spare. So I went to the game with a couple of my friends, met some of the Cleveland Rugby team, and watched the game next to a group of the rowdy Steeler Fans. We became friends, and when the Steelers did well they’d talk shit. When the Seahawks did well, I talked about how I sexually violated one of their family members. It was a good time, surprisingly, because I never thought I’d be surrounded by so many strangers and be so content.
Like I said before, conversation, good conversation at it’s core is what I looking for these days. At the end of the night, one of the Steeler Fans and I did a shot [it was more or less passed on to me because CK looked done]. We toasted to a good night, good football, and blessing on the new season, and my friend drove me home and then I slept off as much of the booze as I could before work the next day.
SIDE NOTE: I bounced back like a pimp
SIDE NOTE: If you’re not from Cleveland, you can’t understand the animosity between the Steelers and the Browns. They hate us, we hate them more. They’re somebody you have to hate, like the Yankees, the Lakers, Hanson’s “Um Bop” song, people that sing along to Creed, and George W. Bush. So then it dawned on me – let’s make this fun. I was going to make shirts that attack the literate Steeler Fan. I was going to make shirts that read the following, and again if you don’t understand sports and/or Cleveland Mythos maybe you should stop reading. But the shirts were going to say:
1) Ben Roethlisberger’s mother calls him Ben, but she calls me Papi
- Inspired by my Puerto Rican brethren
2) Hey Jerome, my kid likes to ride the short bus too
- But I’m going to miss saying, “Run Big Fat Black Man, Run.” We all will.
3) Polamalu, great football player, bad lay
- It was intended for my friend CK to wear, because her hatred stems almost as deep, mine is just older. And when a woman can still consider Bernie Kosar athletic knowing that he runs like the gay black guy from “Revenge of the Nerds,” it shows that she’s compassionate, delusional, and overwhelmed with Cleveland Pride.
But it didn’t happen – it would have cost 50 dollars per shirt, and I’m no pimp with ho’s and cash to spare. So I went to the game with a couple of my friends, met some of the Cleveland Rugby team, and watched the game next to a group of the rowdy Steeler Fans. We became friends, and when the Steelers did well they’d talk shit. When the Seahawks did well, I talked about how I sexually violated one of their family members. It was a good time, surprisingly, because I never thought I’d be surrounded by so many strangers and be so content.
Like I said before, conversation, good conversation at it’s core is what I looking for these days. At the end of the night, one of the Steeler Fans and I did a shot [it was more or less passed on to me because CK looked done]. We toasted to a good night, good football, and blessing on the new season, and my friend drove me home and then I slept off as much of the booze as I could before work the next day.
SIDE NOTE: I bounced back like a pimp
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