XLV

I'm not gonna lie to you...it's been a shit weekend. I woke up yesterday to find the spinning wheel of death on my computer, and had to take it in to (hopefully) be repaired. They'll have news for me Wednesday at the earliest. All my work, including my new Steelers/Super Bowl piece, is locked up deep somewhere on that inaccessible hard drive, which doesn't exactly make you sleep easy at night. Geno Malkin broke his knee and is lost to the Penguins for the season, enabling them to be blanked by the asshole Caps this afternoon. I was awoken this morning from a vivid dream where I was making dinner for my daughter by that same daughter slapping me in the middle of my back, meaning I'm her bitch in both the real world AND my subconscious. Spilled coffee in my lap this morning. Dog shit in the house twice. Ginger Classic called on account of rain. Yeah, it's been a shit weekend.

All that will go away, however, if at around ten o'clock this evening, the Pittsburgh Steelers can bring home Number Seven.

It's been an odd year...I'm still not over the Roethlisberger thing, and at times, I'll admit that's it's made it really hard to give a shit. It bothers the HELL out of me that there'll always be a "Yeah, but..." when you're discussing the Steelers of the 2000's.

Still, there are 52 guys on that team, and at least two hall of fame coaches, who aren't scumbags...and they played their asses off in the first four weeks of the season when they would've had every excuse to roll over and play dead. Those guys deserve it. Steelers, 33-27