Friday, September 25, 2009

must have been the anti-pancake protesters

One, I am so glad the G-20 is over, because even though it was fun to be in the field reporting again, it was exhausting to be in the field reporting again.

Also, I cannot remember how to spell protester to save my life.

Which brings me to my next point: Protesters.

I think probably the moron(s) who smashed this window Thursday in the midst of a G-20 protest that got out of hand were probably drunken Pitt students, rather than political protesters. I'm not sure which one is worse: The drunken idiot who mindlessly wrecks things, or the political protester who deliberately wrecks things. Either way, stuff gets wrecked.

Pamela's is a neighborhood staple, has fed Pittsburghers for decades and deserves better treatment than this, be it from protesters or idiot drunks.

I'm all for protest and freedom of expression and questioning authority. But when innocent bystanders get caught up in what just boils down to vandalism, what statement have you really made?

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Really, he's only 5.

"Mom, this haircut makes me look like Barack Obama." (he's as caucasian as me, btw)

"I don't think I need to go to kindergarten, I think I know everything they're going to tell me."

Him: "I don't want to eat anything that has a skin." Me: "What about bananas?" Him: "Bananas don't have a skin, they have a peel."

"My grandparents are more fun than my regular parents."

Thursday, September 17, 2009

You kids get off my lawn

I commute by public transportation which, despite the length of time it takes to get from the East End of the city to the South Side, I sort of love. It gives me down time which I normally get very little of, what with the job and husband and kids and parents.
Part of my commute takes me through Oakland, where 99 percent of the colleges in this city are. I have come to the realization that there is no creature on Earth more irritating than a college girl on a cell phone. And being trapped on a bus with them: brain-numbing. No, seriously. Everything? Is a question? Because they all do that uptalking thing? Then amplify that with the appropriate level of cell yell. Even with the loudest Soul Coughing song on my iPod I cannot drown out the inane conversations. Mostly having to do with how hammered they got at that party? With the guy? At that place? OH MY GOD BE QUIET.
I think I may start talking to myself just so none of them sit near me EVER AGAIN.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Tweeter, meet NY Times ...

So I had a weird, surreal day, covering the AFL CIO convention at (fittingly enough) the Convention Center. Pretty much any chance I have to see President Obama, I'll take. I admit it. Love him or hate him, he's fascinating and an exciting public speaker.

I am happy to report no one shouted "You lie," at the president today, in fact one lady yelled "I LOVE YOU BARACK." Awesomely, he replied, "I love you too, sister." That's what union people call each other, brother and sister. It was a huge hit with the union crowd.

And, it was also the first time I've ever been close enough to Arlen Specter to touch him (no, I did not). He's just as crusty in person, but seemed smaller, somehow.

ANYhoodle, the surreal part of the day was the conversation I semi-participated in with a New York Times reporter and a Pittsburgh twitterer. One of the oldest of the old media and the most embryonic new media conversing. It was... nice. The NY Times reporter was pretty decent to the twitter guy, which I sort of didn't expect. And, he didn't make any disparaging comments after the twitter guy left (which I thought he might), and actually did look up his site.

It was also the first time I've ever said to someone upon meeting them, "Hey, I follow you on Twitter!" Pretty sure it won't be the last time.

I dunno, the whole thing left me feeling better about the state of media in general; maybe we can all learn to get along...