Monday, December 30, 2013

Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Browns Fans

It's hard enough being a parent.  But to be a parent AND a Browns fan?  That's an invitation to disaster.

Those of us who are moms and dads know we need to teach our kids to believe - that even though there are times in life when things go wrong, there is always hope. That if you keep on trying, at some point you will come out a winner and experience success.   That you should never say never.

But if you and your family root for the Browns season after season with nothing to show for it and no progress in have to wonder just what your kids are learning during football season.

We all love to have our kids support the same sports teams as we do, giving us common ground and plenty of bonding opportunities.  We cheer together when things are going well and scream together when it all goes wrong.  When it goes wrong, there's always next season - right???

Browns parents don't get the chance to teach their kids about winning with class, because there's never any winning going on.  It's always about losing gracefully and waiting until next season.  But when the same pattern emerges year after year, our kids are going to have learned only one thing:


They're going to wonder why we keep watching when the team gives us nothing decent to watch.  Why we torture ourselves with thoughts of a winning season.  And why we don't turn off the TV once we discover that all we do is yell at it.

My son barely watches the Browns anymore, because he's discovered more productive ways to spend his time.  Truthfully, even if he sat in a room and stared at the floor he'd be better off than he would be looking at the orange and brown mess on the TV screen.  I'm starting to think I'd rather stare at the wall myself.

There are still plenty of ways to teach kids about hope and success - too bad the Browns are not one of them. 

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to find some excitement after today's game.  I'm off to watch paint dry!

Sunday, December 22, 2013

We suck! Please buy our tickets!!!

It has become increasingly infuriating over this past season to receive an email from "Cleveland Browns Guest Services" (aka TICKETS [at] CLEVELANDBROWNS.COM) after each game with the score and a lowlight photo from the day's game. As an example, here's what showed up in my inbox after today's unholy debacle:

For once, a little honesty and remorse would be appreciated, especially if the email is coming from the ticket-shilling arm of the organization. Seriously, Browns. The following would be far more appropriate to receive after a football port-o-potty like we witnessed today...

I still wouldn't appreciate such a garbage barge of a game against such a bad team, but at least I could respect you a little for telling some version of the truth. 

We're Cleveland Browns fans. We CAN handle the truth.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

What would I rather do?

In light of the Browns playing at New England today with our recently concussed QB Jason Campbell at the helm and two random other guys at the ready* in case anything should happen to Mr. Campbell plus the previous two games of sheer H-E-double hockey sticks against the Bengals and the black and gold team we all hate (whew! someone is long-winded today), I have made a list of other stuff I would rather do than watch this game today. Unfortunately, after having the flu all week, I am not well enough to actually do any of the above, so I will have to couch it today and suffer through the game. Kill me.

I do have to say, though, that I will celebrate the fact that we won't have to see currently concussed** B. Weeds in the game at all. 


* Caleb Hinie Hanie probably got to take five snaps with the practice squad this week and Alex Tanney, the YouTube trickster QB, made a video of himself hurling passes and knocking down Christmas decorations on the lawns of houses around the Berea training facility. This may or may not be true. But still, take THAT, giant inflatable Grinch! Now that I think of it, wouldn't that be more like hitting the broad side of a barn? Your accurate throwing prowess does not impress me, sir!

** I like the word concussed. It reminds me of swearing. Which reminds me of the Browns. So maybe I don't like the word concussed all that much.

So let's start that list of things I would rather be doing....RIGHT NOW! Hey look, it's time for kickoff!!!

1. Create a day-by-day rundown (with visuals) of Hollie Strano's outfits over the last  year. 
A permanent fixture on Mr. Blackwell's "Must Destroy" List.

2. Listen to the entire Phil Collins Songbook. 

3. Watch the Sarah McLachlan sad doggy commercials on a continuous loop for four quarters plus halftime.

4. Ride all of Cedar Point's rides. In the snow. By myself. While I have the flu. 
 But who would start them?? 

5. Go clothes shopping with my mom. 


Not my mom. (Because I would be standing behind her with my arms crossed like a poorly-mannered child.)

6. Attend a country concert wearing appropriate "country fan" apparel. 
 When in Rome...NEVER!!!

7. Listen to the Really Big Show.

8. Dress up like a mattress and wave at people outside a mattress store in a questionable neighborhood. 

9. Sit at a table with someone who ordered the Greenhouse Tavern's special menu item "half a pig head."
You are what you eat. Read this.

10. Watch all the Charlie Brown specials for every holiday, including the stupid camp one. (And I mean the one where he goes to camp and not the one where he prances around in women's clothing.)

Oh, Chuck. The holidays remind me of why I don't like you, too! Please go away. 

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Better than Weeden

Since BuzzFeed-type articles are currently all the rage, we need to jump on that bandwagon!

Fifteen people and things that could play quarterback for the Cleveland Browns better than Brandon Weeden.

1. This dinosaur skeleton with an oddly silly expression on its face.
    Jurassic, yes, but still younger than Brandon Weeden. 
    ('Weeden is old' jokes - the gift that keeps on giving.)

2. 1980s Don Webster.
     He could blind opposing teams with that oily tan.

3.  This Weimaraner photoshopped into a Snuggie.
    What, they couldn't find a REAL Weimaraner to wear the Snuggie? And whose paws are 

4.  Joanie AND Chachi

    Little known fact: Ralph Malph and Brandon Weeden are distant cousins. Ok, it could be 
   true. Aren't all gingers related?

5.  Pope Francis

Great with a Hail Mary.

6.  This Tastymeat! food truck. *snicker*

    I can't stop giggling. #immature

7.  The ghost of H.R. Haldeman.

    Weedengate. Enough said. Also, you're a ghost, so you have spookiness going for   
    you. Use it to your advantage. Move the chains. And then rattle them and scare 

8.  This self-portrait of Paul Gauguin
     Bonjour, Monseiur Gauguin, 1889
     N├írodni Galerie, Prague, Czech Republic

   Remove beret, add helmet. Win games. Done. (I've heard that ALL of the  
   Post-Impressionists wore shoulder pads and dressed to look like human footballs.)

9.  These six Kate Middeton impersonators.
     They can (fake) royally kick some @$$. 

  (And before anyone starts complaining that there are only nine numbers, a couple of them 
   include more than one person. And any of them would be better than Weeden.)

   So remind me...why is he still on the team...?

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Adrian Peterson: We Don't Accept You

"That's right."

We don't accept your plans to run all over our defense and we have a plan of our own to distract you:


Last season, you were probably one of the forty million people who saw the insanely funny NFL Bad Lip Reading video. It was comprised of a random array of players, coaches and refs saying normal football things during games with the original audio removed and absurd voiceovers added. The video was bookended by sideline reporter Pam Oliver interviewing Vikings' RB Adrian Peterson, who discussed eggrolls, stingrays, double-sided Scooby Snacks (mmm - twice as delicious!), and hotel selection, among other stuff. If the first Peterson part was just plain weird, the last has become somewhat iconic. I, for one, cannot even think of Peterson without thinking of Circus Peanuts.

But some jokes need explanation. When Bitter Orange & Brown decided to give AP an orange peanut for today's game, we couldn't just make a silly circus peanut graphic and leave it at that. We had to give him ventriloquist comedian Jeff Dunham and his most famous puppet, aptly named Peanut and turned orange for the occasion. That should distract the Vikes' one and only weapon - with a hilarious* blend of puppetry and stand up comedy.


*BitterKK is not a fan. She prefers George Carlin, Chris Rock, and Jim Gaffigan and is terrified of puppets of fictitious or unknown species. Woozles aren't real. She looked it up.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

A Public Thank You to the Cleveland Indians

I just want to send a heartfelt thank you card to the Cleveland Indians and their misguided and greedy owners for creating a situation where there are absolutely zero expectations for me to go to one of your underattended games this year.

I dislike baseball. It is boring. I dislike the Dolans. I think they have made a lot of "errors" (heh - crappy baseball pun!) as owners. Just because I live in Cleveland doesn't mean I have to like its sports teams. I love the Browns, can't stand the Tribe, and am ambivalent toward the Cavs. But just watch how frothing white hot hate will spew forth from me if Cleveland ever welcomes that prodigal son, the former # 23, back into our waiting arms. Here's an example of how it could play out:

Shaggy: "Is that a rabid dog?"

Scooby: "No, it's Bitter KK."

Shaggy: "She's more terrifying than I heard!!!! We better R-R-R-RUN!!!!!!!"

Then I chase them around a hallway with many doors, Scooby Doo-style, of course, until they catch and unmask me, realizing that I'm actually Old Man Johnson and then I tell them I would've gotten away with it if it weren't for "you meddling kids."


I know almost nothing about the current Indians. I thought manager Terry Francona was a Latino. I also sometimes think his name is Bobby. Nobody knows why. And my current knowledge of the roster is as follows:

Last year, I bit the bullet and was a nice girlfriend for exactly one Indians game. We bought cheap seats and sat in the bleachers for "the most boring game in baseball history" (direct quote from @MikeAmmo). I didn't even realize they were playing the Royals that day until the seventh inning. I bet I was the only one who didn't know or care who the opponent was. Or that the other team on the field was the Indians.

I mostly remember that we ate tacos beforehand at Zocalo, went to the game, and then left. Lame.

This season, I found out something recently that PISSED ME OFF.

Remember how the whole ballpark was once open for games and you could buy cheap tickets and sit in the upper-upper decks in no man's land if you wanted to? Well, you can't do that anymore. The Indians have essentially created a scheme to make everyone pay a premium price by not selling the cheap seats, and to add insult to injury for the people who actually want to attend games, you get berated by the local media because of the low attendance. Because it costs too much to attend games - especially if you care enough to do so on a regular basis.

The whole situation makes me mad. Not for me, but for so many others. Read the original post which incited my fiery anger:

For me, it's simply not worth $25 + tax and random fees to sit through a game. I could buy department store makeup with that money. If I were to go to a game, I would be thinking about the makeup I could have bought. In other words, it's a complete waste to take me to a game for upwards of $25.

People need to know that this is happening and that it's not a common practice in other ballparks - not even ones with consistently good teams. But for some reason the Dolans think it's perfectly fine. It just makes them look greedy.

I realize that their greed caused me to call for their proverbial heads in last year's post "Au Revoir les Dolans. Vive la Revolution!"

That greed is showing through again in the 2013 ticket scheme. Come on, people. Why aren't you protesting the abhorrent way they're handling this? Why aren't you mad about being berated for the low attendance the Indians themselves are creating?

Read the "Wahoo Bucks" link above, understand what a disservice they are doing to you, and find a way to MAKE IT STOP.    

Friday, January 18, 2013

Shurmur Shock!

Sometimes Pat Shurmur walks into your life and brings you stuff you didn't know you wanted: A glimpse into the bizarro world of Bitter KK

I was in the designer clothing department of an upscale east side department store the other day, shooting the breeze with a couple of my friends, when a tall, dark-haired gentleman approached us. I glanced in his direction and did a double take. Then a triple take. And then almost a spit take, which would have been awesome had I been drinking something fruity and alcoholic in a martini glass.  

"Hang on a sec, Bitter KK - how did you end up in an episode of Sex & the City???"

Oh, it was no episode of SATC, my friend. Sadly, the tall, dark-haired gentleman wasn't Big. Or even Aidan, dammit. 

It was Pat Shurmur.

Yes, Pat Shurmur. The hapless Browns coach who endured two years of tarring and feathering and drawing and quartering by every faction of the Cleveland sports media. You know the guy. The one who also took two years of merciless ribbing on this very blog.

This is same person I publicly called "The Dud" just a few days earlier. And the one I turned into a chicken and made a fake iPhone app for choking and the guy I suggested Tyler Perry as Madea could play.

And yep, it's the same Pat Shurmur I said was almost exactly the same person as Dexter, the serial killer from the cult favorite Showtime series Dexter .

Standing right there in front of me. 

Click to enlarge

My first thought:

"Uh oh, SpaghettiOs®."

My thoughts always respect U.S. trademark registration, natch.

Pat was there to pick up something for a family member, which my friend ran off to find, leaving a lonely Shurmur hanging out in a part of the store where he clearly didn't belong. Right by me. 
You might think there would have been a confrontation. I mean, I was ready to throw down with him after a couple of his controversial coaching decisions this past season. And then I did try to take his job. But I'm proud to say that a clear Bitter KK head prevailed.  

My Own Private Yalta
I knew that if I started a conversation with him, it would have to be forever documented for the historical record, much like Roosevelt and Stalin at the Yalta Conference. And just like Yalta, I realized that our historically important discourse probably shouldn't be (too) stupid.

I have decided that I am Bitter FDR. Hey, it's my story and I can be whatever important historical figure I want. Shurmur, I guess, would be Stalin. In this scenario, of course, Stalin has the personality of a Swiffer. And in case you're wondering, our Churchill would be Ross, the fur salon guy, as he was standing around nearby and is sort of Churchillian, in that he was wearing a fancy silk top hat*, as per usual.
*Embellished for dramatic effect. It was actually a cowboy hat over a Polamalu wig.

I saw that Shurmur was returning a pair of cute (yes, very cute) brown and orange gloves at the store, as well. There was my conversation starter!

Bitter KK:  Ah, so you're getting rid of all the brown & orange? 
Subtext: Highly insincere frownie face.

Shurmur:  I didn't ask for them to begin with. My wife got them for me for Christmas.  
Subtext: "I REALLY do not like them. They are soooo yucky."

I wondered if I should I mention that his wife had actually bought him women's gloves. Nah. She probably just saw the colors and thought she was being helpful. But while we're discussing tiny lady hands, just know that Bitter KK does not go near jokes about Pat Shurmur's hand size...or foot size, for that matter. Just like she ignored the chicken choking joke above. She doesn't touch easy jokes. So commenters shouldn't either.
Bitter KK:  How long are you going to be in town?

Shurmur:  Jen (Mrs. Shurmur) is staying here with the kids until the end of the school year and I'll be going...wherever I end up.

Oprah would've asked a brilliant follow up question here, such as "So where are you going next, Lance er, Pat?" But Bitter KK chose a different brilliant interview tactic. Kissing ass. She was simply trying to keep the convo flowing because she was clearly not talking to Mr. Talkative or Mr. Forthcoming. Please know that she was not being a Pat Shurmur sycophant. That would be the worst thing in the history of the world. And that is not an overstatement.
Bitter KK:  Thanks for all of your hard work here, even though it didn't end the way any of us wanted.
Bitter KK then chokes on her kind words, nearly needing Ross Churchill Polamalu to perform the Heimlich Maneuver.

Shurmur:  When a new owner comes in, you just figure they're going to change things. It's a good team. I hope they do well.

I know it would be heartwarming to say that Bitter KK's tiny Grinch heart grew three sizes that day, but seriously, an enlarged heart is a health hazard. Who wants that? Not me, that's who. Maybe Cindy Lou Who. was my chance to give Pat a little of what we like to call "the Bitter Opinion." Did I have the guts??
Bitter KK:  I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I'm a Browns blogger.

Shurmur:  Oh yeah?

Bitter KK:  Bitter Orange & Brown - we're five women and we make fun of the team. *feigned humility*

Shurmur:  ......

Bitter KK:  I know, Browns fans are an unusual breed. But at least we're totally dedicated to it. 

Shurmur:  Stay away from blogs. They'll get ya.

Subtext: "No, they won't get us, Pat. They'll get YOU, sir."


I'm not sure exactly what he meant by that last part, but there is one thing of which I am certain. The man is not a fan of the blogs.

I think we can safely say he likes them even less than receiving ladies' gloves for Christmas.

Meet my new gloves! 

Bet you'll never guess where I got them! 

If I had seen them on my own, I would have bought them for my brown & orange collection. But since they have such a Bitter pedigree, they're extra special. They are super warm and were half price.
Here's the thing...I have small hands and they are even a little small on me.

I was probably trying too hard to be a brilliant conversationalist whilst talking to a milk crate, so I didn't notice anything abnormal. But perhaps Pat has hands like this:

If you have any reason to doubt that this event actually happened, Bitter KK wants you to know that had she made it up, there would have been at least one car chase. But probably not more than five. Pat Shurmur would have been replaced by Ewan McGregor, and it would have happened in space. But not in the Star Wars galaxy, as her casting of Obi-Wan would imply. Can you imagine car chases in space?? That would be pretty frickin' amazing!
In other words, the above really did occur.