I have just learned that my first celebrity crush is now married and just gave birth to her first child. Now while most boys my age had the Pamela Anderson, Carmen Electra, Jenny McCarthy crushes, I went for someone not as well known and much more my age. It happened during the summer of 1996 and the Atlanta Olympics. My first crush was Dominique Moceanu.
Now most people may have thought it was funny or cute, but looking back on the “crush” it was more like psychotic. I should really question the friendship of anyone who let me do the things I did during this phase of my life. I hope I was at least able to entertain everyone who watched from a distance as this “crush” developed.
It all started while reading the Sports Illustrated Summer Olympic preview while riding to the Outer Banks with my second family, the Ingrams. I saw a picture of and fell in love, or something like that. I then proceeded to cut out and collect every picture I could obtain of her, eventually creating a shrine on my bedroom wall. It didn’t stop there, I wrote her fans letters, bought her book (even read it), went to see the touring gymnastics show at the Civic Arena and dragged my best friends Ross with me (talk about a good friend) and I even asked her to my schools homecoming dance. This whole thing lasted for about 6-8 months before I called it off.
It obviously didn’t work out for the two of us and we decided to go our separate ways, which is why it was nice to see that she has moved on in her life and has started a family. Congratulations Dominique!
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Guest Ranter
Expat Pittsburgher
I was born in Pittsburgh on a cold day in 1973, I left on a cold day in 1977, with a brief four year, ok it was four and a half, return to attend the MIGHTY University of Pittsburgh. On the D.C. Metro train home from the Penguins last minute (literally) victory over the Washington Capitals, Tolkin’s line from the Hobbit, kept ringing in my head: “Wherever you go, there you are.” By there, I am convinced he meant Pittsburgh.
Since 1977 I have been a Virginian, I consider Virginia my home – except for tax purposes: PA is tax free for active duty military! I celebrate Lee/Jackson day, for those of you north of the Mason–Dixon that is Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, I like grits, cornbread used to chew a can of Copenhagen a day (married a damn Yankee and had to stop) and like NASCAR. By any northerner’s definition, I am a southerner.
Except when I am around other Pittsburghers. For those of you like me who have left, you will understand this, and have lived it. For those of you still in the Gateway City, I feel a loving affection for you seemingly incurable ability NOT to understand.
Pittsburghers are a unique breed, they have the confidence of a thoroughbred racehorse, innocence to a three year-old and a fanatical devotion to all things black and gold that would rival a Berlin party rally in 1936!
For those of us that left, road games are our connection back to that mystical wonderland. On the train into D.C. this morning, my wife commented that there were more Penguin shirts than Capital shirts…. This was only the beginning. The “Let’s go Pens,” chant started in the subway station and carried itself all the way to the upper decks of the Verizon Center. When “The Kid” got his first goal in the second, the place went nuts; you would have thought it was Lemieux to Jagr to Lemieux in 1992 in the Civic Arena! Speaking of Jagr…. Nobody from Pittsburgh had to ask, “Why is that guy wearing a Penguin #68 jersey, with the “r” replaced by “off”?“ We all just understand… In his own house a chant of “Ovie-rated” rang out, or the terrible towels that flooded the building…. Was I surprised to hear the Steeler Polka being sung? Nope, nor was I surprised when complete strangers joined in and the whole block was singing it…. Again, this is at a Penguin ROAD game!
The great or sad, I cannot decide, thing is… this happens everywhere: San Diego, LA, Houston… and it is every sport: Football, Baseball, Hockey…. Heck even a Pitt baseball game in South Carolina!
For those of you that left, can you count the times you had a Pirate hat or shirt on, and walked past another, in Lowe’s, the grocery store, wherever, and exchanged a brief, painful, knowing look with that person that spoke volumes? Or sat at the gate in any airport in the world, with a flight terminating in Pittsburgh…like a US Embassy…sovereign Pittsburgh real estate!
The bottom line is, no matter where you go, there you are. Hmm Haa!
I was born in Pittsburgh on a cold day in 1973, I left on a cold day in 1977, with a brief four year, ok it was four and a half, return to attend the MIGHTY University of Pittsburgh. On the D.C. Metro train home from the Penguins last minute (literally) victory over the Washington Capitals, Tolkin’s line from the Hobbit, kept ringing in my head: “Wherever you go, there you are.” By there, I am convinced he meant Pittsburgh.
Since 1977 I have been a Virginian, I consider Virginia my home – except for tax purposes: PA is tax free for active duty military! I celebrate Lee/Jackson day, for those of you north of the Mason–Dixon that is Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, I like grits, cornbread used to chew a can of Copenhagen a day (married a damn Yankee and had to stop) and like NASCAR. By any northerner’s definition, I am a southerner.
Except when I am around other Pittsburghers. For those of you like me who have left, you will understand this, and have lived it. For those of you still in the Gateway City, I feel a loving affection for you seemingly incurable ability NOT to understand.
Pittsburghers are a unique breed, they have the confidence of a thoroughbred racehorse, innocence to a three year-old and a fanatical devotion to all things black and gold that would rival a Berlin party rally in 1936!
For those of us that left, road games are our connection back to that mystical wonderland. On the train into D.C. this morning, my wife commented that there were more Penguin shirts than Capital shirts…. This was only the beginning. The “Let’s go Pens,” chant started in the subway station and carried itself all the way to the upper decks of the Verizon Center. When “The Kid” got his first goal in the second, the place went nuts; you would have thought it was Lemieux to Jagr to Lemieux in 1992 in the Civic Arena! Speaking of Jagr…. Nobody from Pittsburgh had to ask, “Why is that guy wearing a Penguin #68 jersey, with the “r” replaced by “off”?“ We all just understand… In his own house a chant of “Ovie-rated” rang out, or the terrible towels that flooded the building…. Was I surprised to hear the Steeler Polka being sung? Nope, nor was I surprised when complete strangers joined in and the whole block was singing it…. Again, this is at a Penguin ROAD game!
The great or sad, I cannot decide, thing is… this happens everywhere: San Diego, LA, Houston… and it is every sport: Football, Baseball, Hockey…. Heck even a Pitt baseball game in South Carolina!
For those of you that left, can you count the times you had a Pirate hat or shirt on, and walked past another, in Lowe’s, the grocery store, wherever, and exchanged a brief, painful, knowing look with that person that spoke volumes? Or sat at the gate in any airport in the world, with a flight terminating in Pittsburgh…like a US Embassy…sovereign Pittsburgh real estate!
The bottom line is, no matter where you go, there you are. Hmm Haa!
-Pete Reitmeyer
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