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,
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.
Anyway...now 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*
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.
Bitter KK: LOLLLLLLL.
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.