Well, it’s Tuesday.
I don’t say that like, “Hey, we got to Tuesday! Yay, us!”
I say that like, “You too have probably lost all sense of time and as a service to you, I’d like to inform you that today is Tuesday so you don’t have to open your calendar app to figure out what day it is, only to find that four hours later you again aren’t sure what day it is because you can’t remember if you opened your calendar app to see what day it was earlier that very same day, or yesterday, because, and I can’t stress this enough — what even is time? — so you open the calendar app again. Today is Tuesday.”
Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s all take a moment and work on our calm, pandemic-coping breathing.
Today is day number WHO KNOWS? TIME HAS LOST MEANING of social distancing/staying home and each day we become more used to this current “normal.” And if you’re like me, when you first regain consciousness each morning, you immediately take stock of your body and health.
“How do I feel? Is anything hurting? Do I feel feverish? Okay, I’m going to check my throat with a little swallow of saliva now. Here we go. Oh, whew! No pain! Guess I’ll get up and eat 14 Oreos for breakfast while scrolling all the news sites until I feel my anxiety has returned to a nice hot simmer.”
Just me?
Let’s start off with a little Pittsburgh history. Now, I’m currently in a deep dive on a topic I’ll share with you once I find all the pieces, but while researching THAT one, I stumbled upon this article from the May 7, 1890 Pittsburgh Press. What you’ll read is an article about an educated 1890s woman — a doctor of medicine. She’s going to tell you how female doctors are coming into demand and then things are going to go off the rails when the reporter feels the need to … well … just read it.
Be right back. Gonna go check all the articles about the male physicians to see if any say, “He is an enormous-bellied, pockmarked man, just a little above the hippopotamic size. Also, super bald.”
Your Pittsburgh Pirates posted this …
… and I legit said out loud, “Who the hell is that?”
“Who the hell is that?” should be the theme for the 2020 Pirates season. I’d 100 percent buy a shirt with that slogan on it. In-game entertainment can be a game called “WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!” where Joe Klimchak shows an attendee pictures of four current Pirates and if they can name one, they win.
And instead of wooing, at random intervals when the park grows quiet late during a 14-run loss and a Pirate approaches the plate, you’ll hear a drunk voice boom out, “WHO THE HELL IS THAAAT?!”
Now I’m just being mean. You know I love the Pirates. Deeply. I just don’t know who the hell any of them are.
I start a new job next Monday (TODAY IS TUESDAY) and I’m a little nervous about it. I’ve been tasked by my local school district to be a homeschooler. I’m not sure what the pay is yet, but I assume astronomically high if I have to teach every subject of 11th grade AND 7th grade all the while being the principal, janitor and lunch lady.
I’m looking forward to morning announcements (“Today is the same as yesterday which is the same as the day before which will be the same as tomorrow. Welcome to hell, kiddos.”), forcing my kids to carry hall passes to walk to the bathroom, and saying things like, “The microwave ding of my Hot Pocket doesn’t dismiss you, I DISMISS YOU.”
The good news is, I understand drinking is allowed on the job.
Me, by 3rd period after telling my kid I have no idea what a cosecant is:
Here’s an easy way to show your appreciation for Pittsburgh’s doctors, nurses, and first-responders. Donate to feed them!
We’ve organized a way to procure meals for local healthcare workers and emergency responders who are working incredibly long shifts and no longer have access to cafeterias or other meal services while they support our community through the COVID-19 crisis.
They’re seeking to reach a $10,000 goal, so pitch in if you’re able!
(h/t Mike “The Butler” Woycheck)
Reminder:
I’m watching the latest episode of Bob’s Burgers and I cannot take my eyes off that random roll of toilet paper.
Just lounging there, staring at us. Mocking us with its slight unspooling. Probably one-ply, yet grown men would engage in a street brawl for it.
What has become of us? WHERE IS ALL THE TOILET PAPER?
Speaking of, the Post-Gazette has an article about how some seniors are not enjoying the “seniors-only” shopping hours at their local Iggle, and in it we are introduced to my new best friend, Robert Scalio, 70, of Cheswick.
“It was debaucherous,” said Robert Scalio, 70, of Cheswick, who drove himself to the Waterworks Shopping Plaza just before it opened at 6 a.m. “Concentrating us all in at one time just made it worse I think. People rushed in like, I don’t know, animals.”
Debaucherous. What a word choice! Invoking images of sinful pleasure and sex orgies and associating it with a bunch of elderly Burghers slow-rushing like lava through the aisles of Giant Eagle to get to the toilet paper. I already love him. Then he says:
“There’s nothing to worry about as long as you’re not sucking somebody’s face,” he said.
Ah-may-zing! I need to repeat that. “As long as you’re not sucking somebody’s face” at your local debauched Iggle. You might wonder why Mr. Scalio is not feeling very upbeat right now, and the P-G has the answer:
Mr. Scalio, who lives alone and was a bit disgruntled because his favorite coffee cake was out of stock…
Guys, please find out what his favorite coffee cake is so I can find some and send it to him. I promise to suck as few faces as possible during my quest for it.
I think that’s a good place to end this edition. Let’s chat again soon. And remember … stay home, jags. Also, it is Wednesday.
You’re welcome.