An Open Letter to Sienna Miller and the Residents of Pittsburgh

Dear Sienna Miller,

Hi. How are ya? I always thought you were pretty cute, and though I’ve never seen any of your movies (except maybe ‘Layer Cake’ and I think I was drunk for that), I’ve seen you in magazines, and on the internet, and Liz loves you, so you must be okay.

Now look. I’m not gonna get all up in arms about the fact that you said “Shittsburgh.” I’ve said “Shittsburgh.” (and “Pissburgh,” but that’s another story.) Granted, I’m in my goddamn 23rd year here, so I sort of have a right to say that. And I completely understand how the charms of a place like, say, Bloomfield, would be lost on someone accustomed to a lifestyle like yours. Yes, Sienna, Pittsburgh is not New York. It’s not Los Angeles. It’s not even a Boston, Chicago, even a Philadelphia. But it is also not rural Alabama (cue banjo music). So count your blessings. That’s all.

That being said, please, please stop running around asking if people “know who you are” (Here if you’ve not read it.) It looks really bad on you, because, well, we don’t know who you are. And when people that we did recognize (ala, Plaxico Burress) went around asking “Do you know who I am?” we decided that we hated him, and we ran him out of town. Pittsburghers are a vicious bunch, Sienna. Think villagers in those old movies, hordes and hordes of angry villagers with ratty clothes and torches. That’s us. Don’t fucks with that. (Yes, I said 'fucks with that.')

And to you, Pittsburghers! My dear, dear Pittsburghers. Why must we always be up in arms about something? I know the dead-and-buried mayor is old hat. We can’t even really get all rallied up behind our Steelers because, well, wtf are they doing out there? BEN, I’m looking at you. OFFENSIVE LINE, I’m looking at you. SECONDARY, I’m looking at you. And COWHER, bless your scary little heart, I’m looking at you. I suppose that’s a different blog entry. I mean, what else are we going to get all excited about? The Pirates missed the playoffs for the 14th year in a row (since 1992. The same year, by the way, that the Pens last won the Stanley Cup, so I don’t even have anything to say about them at the moment. Phenom Schmenom.) Point is, are we this desperate for something to do? It’s come down to bagging on some little blonde Hollywood floozy? Eh. I’ll pass.

Love,
kT

PS, I’m sorry for the inconsistent blog updating. I promise I’ll step it up.