Star Browns: A New Hope

I'm very nervous right now. The Cleveland Browns, perennial losers who fail so often it is just this side of statistically impossible, are currently in sole possession of first place in the AFC North. They're 6-3 so far, have won three in a row, have beaten two division rivals and only barely lost to the Ravens, and the quarterback, Cleveland native Brian Hoyer, is playing like...well, like an NFL quarterback. Which is not to say that is surprising for him, but it is surprising for any quarterback playing for the Browns.

This is a dangerous time for me. This not being my first rodeo, I have seen the Browns unexpectedly start strong many times before, only to have my hopes dashed halfway through the season when the entire offensive line gets injured, or the coach gets fired, or the team just generally shits the bed. And up until this point I have steadfastly refused to hope, even in the face of of win after win and the congratulatory words of my work colleagues (an extraordinary number of whom are NFL fans for reasons none of them have been able to sufficiently explain - no less than four people from my department were at the Jaguars/Cowboys game at Wembley yesterday (I was one of them)).

But yesterday, when the Steelers lost and the Browns found themselves in first place ALL BUY THEMSELVES, it happened. I started to hope. Not for glory, mind you - I'm not a fucking idiot. But for the playoffs. We could conceivably make the playoffs. I have conceived this. I hope.

Updates to follow in the coming weeks when my heart is inevitably crushed. Again.

VERY IMPORTANT NEWS

While I was in Cleveland a week ago, after a long day of visiting family and watching three hour long musicals and having dinner with a friend of my stepmother who told me she read all three Fifty Shades books in one weekend while I bit my tongue until it bled, I made a video of my spare notes from Chapters 9-10 in my parents basement. It's not my best work, I have to say - I was tired (see previous sentence), I really didn't have a lot of notes from those chapters because almost nothing happened in them, and I found a giant fish pillow which was very distracting.

 

 I promise the next one will be better. I have deliberately left some things out of my review because I wanted to yell about them on camera. And James packed the last three chapters with sentences that are so poorly constructed they should be taken out behind the shed and shot. It should be a good time.

In completely unrelated but VERY VERY important news, SATURDAY IS MY BIRTHDAY. I think I may have already gotten my best present already - the hockey strike ended this weekend and it seems there will be some games this year after all, great news since I have serious concerns about being able to watch hockey next season and it might be my last chance. Then again, StereoNinja is being very secretive about something he's mailed to my office, so maybe not. I hope it's sex toys. And of course, if anyone out there could convince Hannah Hart to tweet me a personal birthday greeting you would make my entire life. But just so we're all clear, the important part of today's post is that everyone is made aware of my upcoming birthday. Saturday.

Having A Social Life Makes It Really Hard To Blog Sometimes

I was told this morning by StereoNinja that I am being a shitty blogger in 2012 so far. Which I know, but see, there's this thing where I'm busy at my job and travelling and other excuses both legit and complete and utter bullshit. One of them is that I went on an epic trip to Austin last weekend. And I really want to tell you all about it, but chronologically it doesn't make sense if I skip over all of December and my birthday. Also, personally it doesn't make sense either. I have never skipped December or my birthday, they are my favorite things. So herein I will attempt to briefly recap the last month and a half so that in the next post I can describe the most epic reunion of my entire life. Cool? Cool.

A Brief Recap of What Amberance Has Been Up To Since Early December, Minus The Parts That Are None of Your Business and You Don't Want to Know About Anyway (Trust Me)

• On December 10th, as advertised, I walked onto a stage at Martyr's with 16 other women and took off all my clothes in front of hundreds of strangers and it. was. AWESOME. Despite it being oddly disconcerting to be walking around in a bar all night in a nightie and a robe while everyone else around me was dressed, but whatever. The show on the whole was excellent. The girls graduating were amazingly talented and creative and their acts included a girl who stripped to the Imperial March as Darth Vader and left the mask on the entire time, two girls who did a number together to Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive" in which one of them was the cowboy and the other one was her horse, and a girl who according to Michelle L'Amour said that she wanted to do a number in which "I do all of the things you always tell us we should never do", and so did a completely disinterested strip tease dressed in a ratty house coat with her hair a complete mess and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth, then finished with taking her bra off to reveal another flesh colored bra underneath to which she had sewn baggy tits that hung down to her knees and when she couldn't get the nipple tassels to twirl she just picked them up in her hand with a shrug and juggled them. It was the most hilarious strip tease I have ever seen.
• The bartender bought me an auto hammer for Christmas and I was filled with joy. I am a tool for tools. And puns.
• The next day I flew to Cleveland for two days because something is seriously wrong with me. I packed a backpack for the trip. My brother had also come to town, for four days, and had brought three huge suitcases and a garment bag, prompting me to ask my dad if it was weird for him that his son is his daughter and his daughter is his son (I did, after all, get an auto hammer for Christmas).
• I saw my brother again the following weekend when he came to town for the annual New Year's Eve party thrown by some friends of ours. My loving brother greeted me with a loud "Fuck you," when I walked in, due to my having worn an amazing tank top with chains and tiny handcuffs for straps that everybody but him loved, including all the women who were pregnant which was ALL OF THEM.
• The following week we had our work holiday party, to which I took the gorilla after giving me his word that he would behave himself. I shouldn't have worried, he was absolutely fine. It was me and my coworkers who were out of control, but it wasn't our fault - someone had brought a Shake Weight to the gift exchange which we were inappropriate about, and then we were under the minimum for the contract we'd signed, so the obvious thing to do was to order lots more booze which led to me teaching everyone how to twirl nipple tassels and shouting "It's PHYSICS" at everyone who tried to object.
• The following Monday I flew to Portland and didn't even try to kill my boss once!
• Which leads us to my Amber's Super Ultra Fantabulous Birthtacular Celebration Extravaganza: Now With MORE KELLY! weekend. This did not start out well. El Nino or whatever the hell the weather is doing had kept things pleasantly warm and dry in Chicago this winter, right up until the night of my birthday when it decided to drop 8 inches of snow on us overnight. This meant that only Charlie and Mrs. Sizemore showed up to my party at Tai's and got to see my Epic Cake which depicted me in not a whole lot of clothing.

  

  So hot it is literally on fire.

  This gave me the opportunity, after we had partially eaten it, to yell "WHO IS GOING TO EAT MY CROTCH?" at some innocent strangers for a totally legitimate reason. Earlier in the day, I had taken my pink princess wand to work with me in order to command people to do my bidding, such as wear hats and sing to me, and had ended up using it help my co-worker figure out what NOT to get his wife for her birthday by waving it at him after every suggestion and saying "No, that's stupid." Because of this, I decided to name it the Wand of Truth and then brought it to the bar and had a duel with the bartender and his magic wand because his Schwartz was as big as mine. The next day, Kelly and Mike showed up and we spent the weekend playing Pulse on our respective iPads and eating/drinking our faces off. Kelly ate some caterpillars. Lots more awesome things happened, but that is the thing that stands out - Kelly eating her way through a plate of caterpillars at Sticky Rice.

So that about brings us up to speed, and though I've missed some major things out (see bolded header), I feel better about blogging the Epic Austin Trip. Which I will do shortly to avoid further admonishments from StereoNinja. You don't want to piss off a ninja*.

*he is not a real ninja**.
*OR IS HE?

Day Eight And I'm Now Just Posting Links To Other Things

The one drawback to living in Chicago is that it's rare to be able to watch an entire Browns game. However, after Sunday's abysmal performance, this may actually be a blessing.

Witness here Cleveland area comedian Mike Polk Jr. (the same guy who did the Cleveland tourism videos) speaking out on behalf of Browns fans everywhere.

I'll see you Sunday.

In Which Amberance Has Opinions About Sports

• College football - It is not Cam Newton's fault that his father is a douchebag.
• NBA basketball - I'm not going to sit here and pretend like I suddenly care about the NBA or that I've ever been a Cavaliers fan. That said, I am veeerrrry interested to see what goes down tonight when LeBron returns to Cleveland. A heard a clip from a talk show earlier where a caller said that Cleveland fans need to be given credit for being civilized human beings at heart. I'm pretty sure this man has never been to or met anyone from Cleveland. I've seen people throw Monopoly money on the field at Albert Belle. I've seen the Cleveland Browns have to surround an opposing team and walk them off the field to protect them from the fans. Jim Thome still gets booed every time he sets foot on the field. And those were at relatively low levels of collective pissed-offedness. Are we really expecting there to be no incidents tonight? Because I don't care how much "security" you have, angry-ass people are creative at smuggling and as I discussed with BrownsFan earlier today, there's only one figure in all of sports that Cleveland fans hate more than LeBron James, and that man hasn't set foot in the city since the day he stole our football team for fear of actual bodily harm or possible assassination. Just sayin'.
• Sunday Night Football - Ben Roethlisberger has a broken foot. SWEEP THE LEG!*

*Just to clarify, this statement is not meant as any kind of support for the Ravens. I'm just saying there's an opportunity here to take this missing link out for the remainder of the season and it would be a shame to pass on that. <----This is what I'm talking about. Cleveland sports fans clearly are animals.

You Can Never Go Home Again Oatman! But I Guess You Can Shop There.

Look, I don't mean to sit around trash talking my hometown, but Cleveland has a way of being a soul-crushing vortex of despair even when you are having a good time.

Saturday I embarked on a trip to Cleveland that I have not made in years, after a tag team attack from Mrs. Sizemore and my stepmother - apparently my father and brother continue to live in a magical fantasy land where I am not only a valuable member of the family but also fun to be around and therefore they miss me. I know right? Inexplicable. Regardless, Saturday I flew to Cleveland so they could see me.

The trip itself probably deserves its own story. I was up at the ass-crack of dawn so that I could catch an orange line train down to Midway in time for a pre 9:00 a.m. flight. The bartender, fresh off a Christmas night shift at the bar, tells me that this is ridiculous and as long as he's up he'll just give me a ride. Which seemed like a nice gesture until I realized that this meant a half an hour of driving through snow to the south side, all the while listening to him complain about how he fucking hates going to Midway and that it would take him forever to get back home in all that snow because every other driver on the road had turned stupid. So sorry to have inconvenienced him with my not asking him to take me anywhere at all. This has the added effect of getting me there fully three hours in advance of my 50 minute long flight.

The earliness of my arrival actually turned out to be a good thing, as I tried to go through security with red and white striped hair and a shirt that read "All Bets on Death" on the day after some douche tried to blow up a plane in Detroit (seriously Detroit? WHO DID HE THINK WOULD CARE?). On top of that I had one of Mrs. Sizemore's Christmas gifts in my bag - a Magic Cheezburger, which I unbelievably forgot had a tiny amount of liquid sealed inside it so the little phrase thingy could float around. I can't really blame them: it would have been obvious to anyone that I was a terrorist, what with my attention calling hair, fake sandwich/bomb that I didn't even try to hide and the announcing of my intention to die on my shirt. Besides, I'd be lying if I said the attentions of the TSA screener who felt me up didn't leave me feeling a bit frisky. You caught me. I liked it.

While waiting (and waiting and waiting) for it to be time for my flight, my attention was caught by the recently updated automated announcement system, which now includes instructions on basic hygiene such as: Cover you face with a tissue if you cough or sneeze! and Wash your hands...with soap! They actually said that "with soap". And I started having the thought that geez, do people REALLY need to be told to use so- ...and then cut myself off as I realized that yes, sadly, they really do.

The flight itself was pretty uneventful, except for my realization that despite knowing intellectually that I live next to a cluster of some of the largest fresh water lakes on the entire planet, I fail to grasp their vastness until I am in a plane flying over them and I still can't see the shore on any side. Fuckers are just absolutely massive.

Cleveland Hopkins International Airport smells like cinnamon rolls and mediocrity. It has been perpetually under construction since before I was born and despite this, looks exactly the same as it did 30 years ago. Oh, with the exception of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Store they have in there now. I laughed out loud like the crazy woman I am when I saw it. The concept is brilliant: buy souvenirs for your friends and relatives from the one and only interesting thing worth seeing in the entire city without ever having to actually go there and see it! It's fucking genius and underscores my longstanding argument that American ingenuity does not stem from the question "How can we make the world better?" but from the question "How can we make it so that we can be as lazy as possible and put no effort into anything, ever?" IMMD.

The triumphant return of the prodigal daughter was just as I expected. My dad cried, I ate pie, and mysteries were solved. Apparently Mrs. Sizemore and RLC didn't plan their ruse for getting me very well, and Cap was highly confused when Mrs. Sizemore started panicking that she and RLC were not ready at 11:00 to "go get doughnuts". Following that, as is traditional in my family, everyone settled into their own room doing their own activities by themselves, thereby negating the entire point of "getting together". It was quietly hilarious.

Later we drove out to visit Simmy and a very surprised and confused Kelly (I'd called and left her a message that Cap and I wanted to get together on Mrs. Sizemore's assertion that Kelly knew I was in town. She didn't). The highlight was my little niece who not only knows that a screwdriver will remove the panel on her cash register so the batteries can be changed, but can tell a Flathead screw from a Phillips-head and select the appropriate tool. She's two years old.

After a dinner out with my parents where I made a complete ass of myself trying to order a bowl of soup, we retired to the house where Cap, Mrs. Sizemore and my dad engaged me in several rounds of Smart Ass, one of which I won. This was a really huge deal: Mrs. Sizemore and her giant brain packed full of crap had apparently won every single round of Smart Ass that had been played since Thanksgiving. I was the hero of the day. They threw me a ticker tape parade and had my name written in the sky by an airplane (OK, really they just said "haha" and pointed at Mrs. Sizemore and I poured myself a glass of Amaretto).

The fun continued when us three kids met up with Kelly, her beau and some other graduates of our high school at a bar. Of this I have little memory, but the photos in my camera assure me that I had an excellent time. Per usual, I took notes that turned out to be mostly useless:

• "R.T. Story" - I know what this one means. R.T. stands for "rubber twat" and is indeed a great story, however it is not my story so if you want to hear it, you'll have to pester Cap.
• "White supremacist ass crack" - I also remember this one. While we were merrily drinking at the bar a short, fat man with a shaved head and white supremacist tattoos all over it walked in and bellied up to the bar. We noticed him and were afraid, but as we were all white and out of his line of sight we soon forgot he was there. Until someone (Kelly?) happened to glance over and notice that his pants were falling off. Like, a lot falling off. His jeans were nearly to his knees and his gray boxer briefs were just above balls level. I can't believe he wouldn't have noticed a breeze across such a large amount of exposed ham hock. Being very drunk by then, we fumbled conspicuously for cameras and may have been talking about it much louder than we intended, but we manged to get our shots without being shot by him or his friend.
• "Tai's face (the photos that are the same)" - In my camera is a series of photos where various people are holding their hand out in front of their face and appear to be either angry or singing opera. I am assuming these are the photos this note refers to, but I fail to recall what the fuck I was talking about.
• "Jenny, how do you make it happen?" and "cap & cow (ask Kelly)" - These are some of the last notes I wrote and I haven't got any idea what the could possibly mean, though I seemed to place a great deal of importance on remembering the second one because I've written it very carefully in even better handwriting than I have when I'm sober.

There is another separate set of notes from when I polled everyone at the table about what my next hair cut and/or color should be. Most of the suggestions are as would be expected for my head: "Jet black with platinum and Burgundy highlights cut to the chin", "Burgundy or eggplant", "Pink and black/ jagged", "Green and rich yellow", "Black with silver, jagged (not curly)", except for my brother's vote which says far more about the speaker than it does about me. I quoted him directly: "Put it back to the color it's supposed to be. I want you to look like Ann Coulter is your friend."

All in all, I had a really great time, including watching the Browns win their third game in a row (the hell?) before going to the airport on Sunday. Which is why I was so startled by the overwhelming sense of joy and relief I had upon landing back in Chicago. I can only conclude that it is the flat and colorless expanse of Cleveland itself that produces the feelings of hopelessness and despair I get every time I go there.

When It Rains, It Pours...

...then it strikes you with lightning, knocks a tree over onto your house and floods your basement.

Browns Center Ephraim to be Suspended

Maybe we don't really need a center. Maybe we can train the ball to snap itself.

Off to a Great Typical Start

I would be crying if it weren't for the fact I was totally expecting something like this to happen. Normally the catastrophe has something to do with the first round draft pick. Now it's our free agents.

*SOB*

More From the Triple Threat

Transcript from a message that the Triple Threat left on my voicemail earlier this summer:

Morgan: [Family name], it’s Morgan. I’m just calling to say that you suck.

Minnick(in the background): Ask her if she’s ever…

Morgan: Have you ever seen such a thing as

Minnick(in the background): pierced balls?

Morgan: If you had balls would you

Minnick (sounding closer): pierce them?

(Norris laughs in the background)
Morgan: Are your balls
Minnick: Pierced?
Morgan: Please call us.
Minnick: What, of all the genitalia that you’re aware of, and you have seen a lot of genitalia, have you ever seen pierced
Morgan: Balls? Call us. Ok, bye.

Tag Teamed

Today I had one of those exhausting phone calls with the Triple Threat. The Triple Threat is a group of people I used to work with at the Big O, right before I left to go work at the number factory. In case you didn't pick up on it, there are three of them.

Norris is a character we've seen on Bizzybiz before, as he is the individual responsible for setting me up with 1153. He likes to fish and drink beer. He doesn't really like people a whole lot, and got married at Lake Tahoe specifically to prevent most of his family and acquaintances from attending. His wife is lovely, though when asked he will tell you she is fat and doesn't speak English, and that he only married her so she could stay in the country. Norris adds he likes to have a good time at any time (unlike me).

Morgan and Minnick are new to the blog. Morgan is one of my closest girlfriends. She is a big fan of discount stores (specifically Marc's for you Cleveland readers), beer, weird festivals, volunteering, Halloween, and anything that can in any way be construed as a "deal". She is not a big fan of rude sales clerks or of her husband. She is also good at letting her mouth lead her brain, such as the time during a product design brainstorming meeting with several big company execs when she announced one way to connect two pipes together would be to have a ring attached to one that could be rolled down over the other, "you know, like a condom."

Minnick is an engineer turned some kind of marketing/sales guru. Minnick has a tendency to come off as somewhat of a caustic prick from time to time (the views and opinions expressed in this sentence are gleaned from conversations with other people and do not necessarily reflect those of the Bizzybiz Blog or it's author). This has led to at least one instance of using the phrase "There's a fine line between confidence and cockiness" in a performance review when describing himself.

The Triple Threat works their magic by ganging up on people. They make phone calls in tandem, and they all talk at once, bombarding you with reasons why they are right and you are wrong in an attempt to confuse you. Much of the time their argument is completely ridiculous and they know it, which is somewhat the point: to see how outlandish of a thing they can get you to go along with. Today's call involved a group vacation.

"Pack your bags, we'll pick you up at the airport in Norfolk."

"Oh God. What are you guys talking about now?"

"Our vacation. Next weekend. Kill Devil Hills in the Outer Banks."

"Right. Because I can afford that."

"No listen. Your lodging and meals are paid for. You just have to pick up the airfare."

"With what? I'm broke, I can't afford it."

"Wait, don't you have a job? Are you still working part time?"

"I was never working part time. I've been full time since I started."

"Oh so you're fine then. Great we'll pick you up in Norfolk Thursday night."

"You guys, seriously, I can't afford it."

"Ok, fine. We'll split it then. We'll pick up your airfare, and then we'll meet you in Norfolk and pick you up. We're getting this sweet minivan, we'll be drinking."

"You know I'm going to Cleveland next weekend right? With Fish? To make pies with my dad?"

"Your dad is making pies with Fish?"

"No, I am making pies with my dad. Fish is coming home with me."

"Well, they can go too. They have to buy their own plane tickets though, we're only buying yours."

"You guys. Seriously. I can't go."

"Are you engaged?"

"What? No."

"Pregnant? Are you pregnant? Because you need to get that abortion in before the new court takes over you know."

"I'm not pregnant."

"Well then you can fly. So we'll see you there. It's going to be sweet, we'll party..."

"Listen. I can't go. I'm going to Cleveland. Actually I'm kind of mad, I wanted to have lunch with you guys. I was going to come to the O."

"We won't be there. We'll be in North Carolina."

"Yes, I KNOW that. And I'll be in Cleveland, making pies with my dad."

"OK, here's what we'll do. We're actually saving you money." (that was Morgan talking, she'd found one of her "deals".) "Wednesday night, we'll fly you to Cleveland. It's $29. You'll be leaving from Midway. Wednesday night you'll make pies with your dad, and Thursday morning we'll get in the van and drive down. Stay the weekend. Then you can choose what day you want to go back. We'll get you a ticket direct from Norfolk to Chicago for any day you want."

"Great. Can you make it so I only miss one day of work? Because that's all I can miss."

"Um, no. You have to miss at least 2 and a half days."

"Well then I can't do it."

"Amber! You are turning down a free vacation!"

"With regret, yes."

"When you're 88, you're going to look back on this and say 'That was a huge mistake. I should have gone on vacation way back then'. And you're going to be miserable."

"Norris, I am never going to be 88 years old, and even if I was, by that time I'd have so many regrets this wouldn't even be a blip on the screen."

"If you don't live to be 88 you won't have as many regrets so when you are this might be the only thing. Think about that." (See what I mean? That doesn't even make sense.)

"I can't take that much time off in October. It doesn't work that way. If you were going in November, or even December..."

"Amber, this is Mike talking now. Listen, there is this thing called 'weather'. And the weather makes it cold in November and December. So we are going now."

"Well, I can't go."

"Amber, if you don't go we're going to boycott you. Forever. I can't believe you are doing this. You are ruining the whole plan."

"Yes, Norris, and someday when you're 88 you'll look back and say 'What a bitch Amber is, she ruined all my vacations for the whole rest of my life'."

"I'm already saying that."

"Listen, I will go in the winter. I will go in the spring. But I already have plans and I can't take that kind of time off work anyway."

"OK, so we'll book your flight then and e-mail you the itinerary."

The above example is maybe a quarter of the total conversation, which as I write this, has spilled over into an e-mail conversation during which Norris has sent me the link to the condo website three separate times, Minnick pointed out that they'd be eating at some specific restaurant I've never heard of, and Morgan wanted to know how I have time to blog at work, but can't take off for vacation. (She has a point. I'm going back to work right now.)

I like these people, but they exhaust me.

Way Cool, If Somewhat Behind

Due to my raging egocentrism, I spent a fair amount of time googling myself in various ways yesterday. When I googled "Bizzybiz Blog" I came across the fact that I was listed as a link on Cleveland Rocks.

While I find this to be wicked rad, I am also a bit puzzled by the fact that the link was added on March 25, well over a month after I left Cleveland for the brighter lights of Chicago. Puzzled, but not surprised.

Depression

Funny thing, being depressed. Sometimes moments of happiness make you....utterly sad. Yesterday Brandon drove me to the airport. We were driving down Lake Shore Blvd, and I looked to my left and thought, "The lake is beautiful." I looked to my right and thought, "The city is even more beautiful. I can't believe that I'm shortly going to live here and I'll be able to look at this every day." I was elated. So when I got to the airport I ended up nearly biting off my bottom lip to keep from crying in front of people from the sheer misery of it all. And all day long today people are asking about my trip and I tell them what a great time I had, cause I did, and then I get all moody-like and go pout in my office.

It. Is. Time. To. Go.

Right now I am sitting in my office wearing my winter coat, and not for a fashion statement either. No, I have a coat on because it is rapidly approaching 0 degrees Kelvin in here and all molecular movement is about to stop. And my nipples hurt. I think it might snow in here.

Bowling For Soup

An excerpt from the lyrics to "Ohio (Come Back to Texas)":

...But then she moved to Cleveland
with some guy named Leland that she met at the bank.

There's nothing wrong with Ohio,
Except the snow and the rain
I really like Drew Carey
and I'd love to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

I play this phrase over and over. I don't even know how the song ends because I keep skipping back to it. I'm so proud my city is so prominently featured in a song by people not from here. I am such an attention whore. It's a sickness.

Does the fact that I like Bowling For Soup make me a geek? Jeff, don't answer that.

Dennis

I've never been so popular in all my life. Just by virtue of living in Ohio too, I didn't even have to flash my tits or anything! The national news media descended on us en masse yesterday. I think they were looking for a long bout of legal wrangling. Bet they were disappointed when the concession call came in the late morning. But hey, check out my friend Dennis on the CBS Evening News! He's the guy standing outside of church talking about how moral values are always the most important factor for him in voting. I told him he should have just asked to be directed to the Fox News van, but they ended up airing him anyway, morals and all.