You are currently browsing posts tagged with Ben Roethlisberger

Seven Steps To Being A Perfect Gentlemasian Like Hines Ward

May 6th, 2011 | 3 comments | Posted by Diana

Step 1: SMILE. Smile when you’re mad, smile when you’re sad, smile when you’re pissed, smile when you’ve been kissed.

Step 2: Always think of the children.

Step 3: Love yo’ mama.

Step 4: Attempt to balance out the shame of your friend or teammate’s shameful antics by doing cool stuff, like getting appointed by your cool president to be on a cool advisory commission.

Step 5: Be light on your feet and smooth in your hips.

Step 6: Win whenever possible.


Step 7: If you and a friend are held up at gunpoint by NoHo police due to a mix-up regarding said friend’s Honda Civic, which was mistakenly reported stolen, cooperate like a stand-up citizen. Never devolve into a self-aggrandized asshole jerk that says, “Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am? You wanna how many Super Bowl rings I got, ya fuckin’ pig?? I’m gonna go all James Harrison on your ass!” AND after the Continue reading Seven Steps To Being A Perfect Gentlemasian Like Hines Ward

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Did Somebody Mention Super Bowl XLV?

January 24th, 2011 | 10 comments | Posted by Diana

Guys, I’m gonna be honest. I’ve been a quieter football fan this year.

Err, umm, I’ve had my reasons.



I am so friggin’ elated. So excited. So proud. So…

Just keep that mouth shut, Jerklisberger

…preoccupied by the shame I feel about one turd guy. UGH. How does he ruin EVERYTHING?

[National Football League: Super Bowl XLV]

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I’m With Terry Bradshaw

April 13th, 2010 | 5 comments | Posted by Diana

Hey Ben, you big, dumb, fucking dog. Thanks for today’s apology.

For your sake and mine, I am glad that you will not be criminally charged for rough-banging that college chick in a dingy bar bathroom. No evidence + you’re a rich celebrity athlete = BIG PHEW! At least for this season (Ed note–Ladies, don’t hate. I need football to live and this is a humor blog).

Don’t tell me what really happened. I don’t know, I don’t want to know, I don’t really care. Shut up. Just shut up.

You and I have already been through a rough patch. Remember that leetle moto accident in ’06, when you were all, “WhatEVA! I’m 24! I’ve won a Super Bowl! I don’t CARE about no stinkin’ helmet! I don’t CARE about my HEAD! I don’t CARE about some goddamn professional football team and our legacy of gritty honor, don’t care about my coveted starting QB position, don’t care about my teammates or the Rooneys, or the hopes and dreams of Diana and her family and all of the wonderful Pittsburgh fans around the world! I’m a big, dumb, fucking dog! I look like a human Clifford! Weeeee! Let’s ride!” And then you broke your stupid face? Yeah, me too. That wasn’t cool.

BUT I FORGAVE YOU. Yes, it took another Super Bowl ring for me to do it, but I still sorta did.

This is different.  Dude, you’ve been accused of sexual assault twice in the last year. I realize we’re talking about accusations, not charges, but dude: TWICE. ONE YEAR. Even your derelict former teammates Santonio and Plaxico are thinking, “Damn, homey! Slow down!”

How hard is it to think, Ben? Just think with your seemingly broken brain. Is, say, dinner Continue reading I’m With Terry Bradshaw

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Football Is About Dominasian

September 22nd, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

Anyone that has spent any time with me during football season knows that I am great at one thing: talking shit. I hate your team. I don’t care who your team is. They are crap and my team, the legendary Pittsburgh Steelers, will crush them with one iron fist. You don’t agree? I can keep this conversation up for hours–you’re a Pats fan? Then I can keep this up all night.

Naturally, last week when the Steelers were preparing to face Donovan “The Hamburglar” McNabb and the Philadelphia Eagles, I checked in with my good friend Aaron–a lifetime Eagles enthusiast–at least once a day:

MONDAY: I hope you don’t lose against the Cowboys tonight. You probably will, though. You loser.

TUESDAY: OOOOOooof. Tough day, huh, buddy? Interceptions sure are a bitch. You really fucked up your one shot at glory. Greatest MNF game ever, though!

WEDNESDAY: Hey, guess what? Today’s hump day. We’re going to the hump the shit out of you this weekend. Hope you’re stretching!

FRIDAY: Hey man. My mom loves the Eagles. She also loves Celine Dion.

SATURDAY: Listen up, you pathetic sunnofabitch! Tomorrow you’re going to suffer a truly dismal defeat. Your team will be bleeding, crying for their mommies, holding their lost scrota in their left hand. YOU PEOPLE ARE GOING DOWN LIKE TONY ROMO ON JESSICA SIMPSON. MWAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!


If you don’t know, here’s the scoop: my Steelers went down, and they went down harder and faster than the third season of Veronica Mars. Our offensive line was non-existent, our quarterback fumbled around like a stoned circus clown, and we just never made it happen. It was an ugly game. Ugly. And because of it, I’ve been eating crow–or, er, eagle–for a full day.

This was pathetic. Sad. Embarassing. Most of all, DISGRACEFUL.

I was disgraced by my team yesterday. And if I’m gonna keep talking shit all season, this can’t happen again. It just can’t.


Thanks, Mahony!

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Talkin’ Trasian

January 28th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

I almost met Hines “Sticky Fingers” Ward last month, a would-be-life-changing visit that was thwarted by his impending knee surgery after the Steelers lost the wild card playoff game against Jacksonville. Had I actually come face-to-face with my super-human, smiling hero, the conversasian might have gone something like this:

DIANA: omg.

HINES: Hey there.

DIANA: I love you.

HINES: What’s that?

DIANA: (loudly) I love you.

HINES: Um. [45-second pause while Diana stares] So, it’s Diana, is it? Did you want me to autograph something, or, er, something? I’m really busy, um, I hafta, um, help out some mixed-race Koreans soon, or…


HINES: [shuffles awkwardly in seat] Hrmm. So it’s been good to meet you, Diana. But listen, I know I’m grinning like a hyena right now as if I’m having a good time, and I am I guess, but I kind of always smile like that… and, basically, I have to go.

DIANA: [erupting like a volcano] YOU CATCH EVERY BALL! YOU CATCH IT! [slobbers]


DIANA: Let’s just take a picture.

HINES: Okay. [grins like a hyena]

If by some other circumstance I would have instead gotten a sit-down with our QB, Ben “I only throw interceptions when it matters most” Roethlisberger, I imagine the conversasian would transpire something more like this:

BEN: Wazzzzzuup, girl?

DIANA: Hello, Ben. I’m honored to meet you, I’m such a big Steelers fan. I cried when we won our last Super Bowl.

BEN: Yahhhh!

DIANA: Yeah. So…

BEN: God, I could really use a beer, or somethin’. Or somethin’!

DIANA: Right. Can I ask you a question? Or a couple of questions?

BEN: ‘Sup.

DIANA: Why the hell would the youngest QB ever to lead their team to win a Super Bowl subsequently drive maniacally on a motorcycle with no helmet, when hundreds of thousands of fans depend on him every week for consistency, hope, and inspirasian?

BEN: Augh, dude, totally.


BEN: That sucked.

DIANA: Throwing interceptions sucks, Ben. Losing to the Jets sucks, Ben. Getting sacked while lumbering around the field trying to find someone to throw to sucks, Ben! Losing as a wild card in the post-season when you have the #1 Defense in the league, sucks, BEN!!!

BEN: Man, I know.

DIANA: [growls, frustrated]

BEN: So… anything else?

DIANA: Yes. One more thing. Why are you currently running off your mouth about wanting A “tall receiver,” laying down tons of backhanded compliments about your teammates that especially make Hines Ward feel like shit? All of this in the midst of you trying to speedily negotiate your new contract?

BEN: Ah dude, I dunno.

DIANA: Hines is a fucking hero. He is your savior. He rises to the task when you need him most– which is often, because when you’re not on the ball you are really fucking OFF the ball, dude.

BEN: Yeah.

DIANA: Be a leader! Love thy brother! Don’t sting your brohams with words. Sting the OTHER TEAMS by WINNING. By throwing complete passes. By making the right plays. By running harder and faster. Focus on yourself, don’t go trying to make Hines feel small. He may be compact but he’s an animal on the field. I wouldn’t want to piss that dude off. He’ll just smile you to death and then jump fifteen feet in the air to catch a ball with his pinky.

BEN: You’re right. Maybe I’m just jealous. I’m so big. I used to think that I looked cuddly but sometimes when I’m watching film I feel like I just look fat and clumsy.

DIANA: It’s okay, Ben. Everybody makes mistakes. And you’re not fat. Let’s just work on how you feel about YOU, and take your focus off of everybody else.

BEN: And how I feel about me is… good?

DIANA: Uh huh.

BEN: I feel…GOOD… about ME!

DIANA: [sighs and takes a seat] Okay, I can see this is going to take awhile. But we’ll get there, one day at a time.

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