So, for the better part of this weekend I was sick. Sounded like how I imagine an 80 year old ex-coal miner that lived by a steel mill his whole life would when he’s laying on his death bed and still yinzer gabbering on about the ‘Stihllers’ first Super Bowl win in 1974. Even though I got to play my favorite game (see how long I can stay awake and upright after taking Nyquil), we had some beautiful weather here in Western Pennsylvania and I was bummed. Luckily, today I got to be outside! Unluckily, I was doing a promotion outside of a Wal-Mart in a far suburb of Pittsburgh. Due to not wanting to get blackballed from any marketing company, I won’t complain too much, except to say that A. I was in utter hell and B. All Wal-Mart stereotypes were verified to me in the first five minutes of setting foot on the premises. I typically don’t get mad, and I have worked many, many jobs of these sorts, but today’s was a real shitty one.
Trying my best to remain calm for the camera.
A slightly more accurate representation of my demeanor.
Obviously, there was only one way for me to feel better when quitting time came, and that was to have some drinks with my girl Christa. You know her as my co-blogger, or the one who writes a lot more meaningful stuff than I do. Since I had quarantined myself for the majority of Thursday-Saturday, I picked her up, took her back to my place while I cleansed myself of all Wal-Mart parking lot 85 degree sweat residue, and we went off to dinner. Naturally, I had to Instagram it.
Dancing about in the alleyway. Safety first.
Requesting a ‘beachy drink’ at a Pittsburgh Sport’s Bar might typically end poorly, but shout out to the Silky’s bartender who didn’t even flinch at the challenge.
So, that was my weekend. I’ll leave you with this captivating image of the first sight of Pittsburgh after being spit out of the Fort Pitt tunnel.
My favorite part of Pittsburgh…except for Sidney Crosby.