Happy Valentine’s Day, or as I call it, “Buy Your Woman Some Shiny Bling Or Suffer The Consequences” Day. Since I’m all about the theme posts, I wanted to do something sort of romance-oriented today. But what? I guess I could talk about my love of the Pittsburgh Steelers, the finest professional football team ever created. Or I could discuss my newfound man-crush on everybody’s favorite scruffy little buddy, Eli Manning, the man who saved us from the great scourge that is the New England Patriots. Or I could discuss the various storybook love affairs in the NFL today; Tony and Jessica, Tom and Giselle, Brady Quinn and Kellen Winslow. Hey everybody saw “American Beauty,” does he not think we know acting all homophobic is as big a sign as showing up at the Manhole for “Ladies’” Night?
Then I found it. I found my post. The saline-enhanced, scantily clad beauties over at Victoria’s Secret have recently named the Steelers head coach, our own Mike Tomlin, the NFL’s Sexiest Coach. I’m sure the voting was close, what with the metrosexual stylings of John Gruden and the always nattily attired Jack Del Rio, but an honor is an honor nonetheless. He’s just lucky Jimmy Johnson bailed out of the NFL years ago as there’s no way Tomlin’s swarthy Omar Eppsness could overcome that magnificent head of silvery helmet hair. I once saw the Fox pregame show in a howling rain storm and literally not a strand moved out of place. Mighty impressive folks.
If you have a minute, do read the article though. It’s a riot, if just for the comments from random females off the street. “He’s handsome, rich and he’s the coach of my favorite football team,” said Laura Bradley of Squirrel Hill. Well, at least she’s upfront about being a gold digger. “He’s no Denzel or anything.” opined Ashley Whitaker of Squirrel Hill, who likely goes home every night to her dipshit boyfriend with bad tribal tattoos and a trucker hat that he wears askew. I hate when people wear their hats askew. Charece Collins of Shadyside is attracted to Tomlin’s youthful energy but adds “it doesn’t hurt that he’s a millionaire.” What the hell? Did they interview every shameless whore in the entire Oakland radius?
I don’t know if I have any female readers, and if I do, I’m pretty sure that last paragraph has run them off, but here’s an idea. How about doing something for us guys this Valentine’s Day? Frilly lingerie? Nah. Edible underwear? Tastes like stale Fruit Roll-Ups. If you really want to make this a Valentine’s Day to remember, might I suggest you dress like this fine young lady right here.
Trust me, we’ll do a whole lot more than pat you on the ass for your efforts. And if you can work in a “Big Ben” reference at some point before we manage to split the uprights, not only will you probably get some overpriced shiny crap from Kay’s but you’ll win the title of “Best Girlfriend/Wife Ever.”