Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Special Message from KC’s 9th Most Influential Twitter Personality.

Yeah you see what I just did there? RICK ROLL.

Well for those of you expending a double entendre-laden public letter to Brett Favre, I’m sorry to disappoint. Today, as Eminem may say, this shit’s about to get heavy.

So, as you may have heard, because apparently everyone gives a shit about what I have to say, I was named the 9th Most Influential Twitter Person in Kansas City, by Twitalyzer. I know. Right?
And for a moment I nearly shat myself in self-congratulatory happiness, because on one level I found it hysterical that with no effort or plan, no “experts” tracking my every move – I just talked about football, about losing a parent, about Brett Favre’s wang, about moving, growing up and the constant normalness that is my life.

And some people listened.

One of the people that listened was an old old “friend” and I put that in quotes because we were schoolmates but never really ran with the same crowd. Just one of those people you kinda knew – Marcia. And she and I became real friends through Facebook/Twitter.

Throughout this past year Marcia and I joked, cried and laughed at Bret Michaels, pets and losing parents. When Marcia made a trip to Minneapolis this Summer we chatted about good places to go. And we had talked about things she had to do when she made a trip to Kansas City later this Fall. Over the year, and thanks to the power of social networking, Marcia – who I’d known forever, but took me a computer to really connect with became one of my best “go-to friends”.   

She always encouraged me to stay positive. No matter what was going on in my life she found a way to help me look at it sunny side up.

Marcia and I both lost a parent last year.  And that’s a tough process. And it changes you. And the people that are on that journey with you – they really become part of you. Marcia, probably more than anyone else on Earth, helped me turn what had a been a really painful journey with my father’s death into a genuine watershed in my life. She really got me believing in looking forward and dreaming big.

Marcia died around noon today, at 36 years old. This past year she had been fighting ovarian cancer. She never told me. The amazing woman I know inspired me to be a better version of myself – was all along fighting her own battle and never even mentioned it. Now that’s influence. But not the kind of influence the world recognizes. But the kind it could use more of.

So today I’ve decided to drop the jackass long enough to pass along that kind of influence, and share with you the wonderful things this amazing lady taught me. Use them at will.

Dear Marcia: I can’t send you an email about how sad I am today. But if I could, I think you’d probably, straight from heaven write me something like, Sarah  – start today, right now – and work really really hard each day to be a kinder person. Be funny. But be nice. Life is so so short, and we really have no promises – don’t always wait for the right time – trust that dreaming big and chasing love and being a little childish sometimes is ok – and remember, no matter how bad you’re hurting as long you get out of bed you have another chance to have and be everything you ever wanted.
And I would totally tap Bret Michels. And probably Favre too.

R.I.P. my friend – you are so loved, but so so missed.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

The Our Favre-er.

Our Favre-er, Who art in facial pain,
Heralded be thy wang.

Thy ring will come.
The Chill be done, in Minney as he was in Philly.
Give us this week his balding head.

Throw us some passes,
As we pillage those who bet against us,
And lead us not into frustration,
But deliver us a Super Bowl.


Friday, November 5, 2010

This is It.

Dear Brett:

So I was just hanging out on a Friday night listening to Nelly on repeat.
I hardly think you’re in a position to judge me Brett. 
Not the point, the point is, I was just sitting here and realized it was time. 

Time to face what can be best described as a harrowing couple weeks being your unauthorized biographer.

Let me clear up a couple rumors first:

1.  1.  I’m not Jenn Sterger. She has at least twice the boobs I have. Oh and she’s a total slut.
    2.  I understand that for approximately 11 months BEFORE the world heard of old Huge Tits Sterger I repeatedly said things like, and I quote:
a.       “Show us you’re cocky.”
b.      “Toss me a bone.”
c.       “Get filthy.”
d.      “Show your horns.”
My bad. Clearly a witty repertoire of double entendre lost some degree of subtly on a Mississippi boy like yourself. So I come here to repent.

3. And yes, the boob size is OBVIOUSLY the only difference between me and Stergtits. Please.

It’s time for me to redirect the ship. So to speak.

My fucking team is 2-5.

Moss showed up, shat his nest and got Chilled.
Syndey’s not back. Percy’s hurt. And for fuck sakes, Childress is still the coach.

So let me go ahead and make this clear – sack up….errrr, I mean, pull it together….shit….ok, what I’m trying to say is, “Help us O Holy One. You’re our only hope.”

Trust me. I don’t care how pissed Deanna was when she saw you gave Lil’ Brett a gander down the Information Superhighway, you’ve seen nothing like the wrath that spews forth if I don’t see a football game this week.

God save you Brett. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Love, Sarah