To the team I love,
It has come to my attention that my affections and prayers that I have sent out to you have now been returned in a manner not much unlike the days of the past. Unrequited I sit here, staring blankly into space at the disastrous lapse or shall I say unfortunate misjudgment beneath the hands of the BlueScum.
At first, I could feel the utter disappointment when you faltered and let the candy cane stripped Sunderland have a few cheap feels. I shrugged and declared that you must have been drunken from the previous international foray. This, I concede, is not unusual for yourself.
I will also admit that this time of year usually produces a string of disappointments, especially in recent years, concerning our relationship. Whatever you may call it, I have accepted it in the past. It is just Arsenal being Arsenal, and loved you no matter what minor indiscretions that November wrought upon us.
Why is it that November is such a hard month for us?
I know I know, you have always come back around by Boxing day but I walk through the whole month a hollow shell of myself. Wanting, desiring, impatiently biding my time when I can celebrate a complete month of you not just being you but being the Arsenal that I know you can be.
Yes. It is a tough life loving you but it's been twenty odd years now.
I remember our younger days. A double here, a league cup there, dropping points to teams that have come and gone. And recent times, remember that run of unbeaten games that was horribly undone by an ogre named Rooney and his accomplice Riley.
Oh those were wonderful times.
Now you know I will be with you forever. It is a promise I made to you a long time ago on a warm spring day from three thousand miles away. It is a promise I will keep.
So no matter what Arsenal. I LOVE YOU!
~LeChat
30 November 2009
23 November 2009
Sunderland Away
This is going to be quick and painless. I am none too happy about the results this weekend at all. NONE.
My first inclination was to avoid writing about anything pertaining to Saturday, but then I thought better.
SATURDAY
The usual suspects abound. I made it down to the pub for the ManShitty - Scousers tie and was bored. Not even a slight bit of excitement. *sigh*
Then the Arsenal match. Watching Nightcaller get drunk and still being pissed about a dubious hand ball was more exciting than the match. Let's just say the chants of Boring Boring Arsenal seemed more appropriate than ever.
I was actually so annoyed and bored. I left during the middle of the MancScum game. I think Saturday was the worst day in a long time. The only thing that kept me from going insane was the usual suspects.
It's always good to have a few good mates around. Especially when it rains the shit cloud of boredom that Saturday had become.
UGH I WANT TO STAB MY EYES OUT!
SATURDAY NIGHT
Boredom turned to anger froth and venom. I had to deal with the local cable company and their shenanigans for half the night. I decided it was better for me to avoid any and all groups of people trying to have a good time.
SUNDAY
The sun came out. I decided against my better judgment to head down to the pub and watch the Italian Oscars with ACMILAN. I had nothing better to do.
Now here is the WHAT THE HELL moment for the week. I was actually entertained by Italian football. WHAT? Yah I know. After watching the boring draws on Saturday I was thinking of quitting. Never watching another game again.
Bonus Feature: ACMilan is celebrating his win, mind you, we are the only two in the pub really watching the game. A bunch of normals are sitting around at the various tables, grazing on their morning meals.
ACMilan is clapping, turns around and tells everyone to join in because Milan just won. I jest not. The whole pub was clapping in unison to the win. I believe one person even inquired about why they were clapping. It was a bright spot on the day.
Afterwards, I bought some pants. They are very nice pants.
Yah this is short. I am not recounting anything else. I am still bored, angered and disappointed in this weekend. Not for my friends, mind you not, but for the stupidity of the football media. Hell the stupidity of the media in general.
*sigh*
Dreaming of a time when Irish people and French people can walk hand in hand together.
~LeChat
My first inclination was to avoid writing about anything pertaining to Saturday, but then I thought better.
SATURDAY
The usual suspects abound. I made it down to the pub for the ManShitty - Scousers tie and was bored. Not even a slight bit of excitement. *sigh*
Then the Arsenal match. Watching Nightcaller get drunk and still being pissed about a dubious hand ball was more exciting than the match. Let's just say the chants of Boring Boring Arsenal seemed more appropriate than ever.
I was actually so annoyed and bored. I left during the middle of the MancScum game. I think Saturday was the worst day in a long time. The only thing that kept me from going insane was the usual suspects.
It's always good to have a few good mates around. Especially when it rains the shit cloud of boredom that Saturday had become.
UGH I WANT TO STAB MY EYES OUT!
SATURDAY NIGHT
Boredom turned to anger froth and venom. I had to deal with the local cable company and their shenanigans for half the night. I decided it was better for me to avoid any and all groups of people trying to have a good time.
SUNDAY
The sun came out. I decided against my better judgment to head down to the pub and watch the Italian Oscars with ACMILAN. I had nothing better to do.
Now here is the WHAT THE HELL moment for the week. I was actually entertained by Italian football. WHAT? Yah I know. After watching the boring draws on Saturday I was thinking of quitting. Never watching another game again.
Bonus Feature: ACMilan is celebrating his win, mind you, we are the only two in the pub really watching the game. A bunch of normals are sitting around at the various tables, grazing on their morning meals.
ACMilan is clapping, turns around and tells everyone to join in because Milan just won. I jest not. The whole pub was clapping in unison to the win. I believe one person even inquired about why they were clapping. It was a bright spot on the day.
Afterwards, I bought some pants. They are very nice pants.
Yah this is short. I am not recounting anything else. I am still bored, angered and disappointed in this weekend. Not for my friends, mind you not, but for the stupidity of the football media. Hell the stupidity of the media in general.
*sigh*
Dreaming of a time when Irish people and French people can walk hand in hand together.
~LeChat
19 November 2009
Allez Les Bleus! - Midweek WC2010 qualifier
Well, where to begin? Where to begin?
As many of you already know, there was a sleight of hand that allowed Les Bleus to go through. There are arguments about how the game should be replayed, about how Henry has tainted his soul and the such. I think what everyone is truly forgetting here, being a voice of reason, is that it is FOOTBALL!
We know this game. We love this game. We hate this game. We take this game out for dinner, grope it in the backseat and do that thing we are not suppose to do, then profess we didn't mean to do it this time and later that evening tell it about how sexy it's younger sister is in that mini-skirt she wore at Christmas last year.
See that is what the handball is, telling the love of your life how hot the younger sister is in the mini-skirt. Yes it may be true but no you really shouldn't say things like that. Sometimes you get lucky and end up in a threesome, however most of the time it is a right cross to the jaw and being very lonely.
Let me spell it out for the Scum...
You win some. You lose some. Either way, you're still a sneaky bastard.
In some quarters, you may be seen as clever, but that's only if you win. In others, well, I am sure there are some who can come up with better words than I can at the moment. For France, Henry was clever. For Ireland, he's a cheating sneaky bastard.
I could use this on other players, in other situations but what's the point? There is none. WHY? Because it's fucking football, a fucking beautiful game played by artist, judged by those who have a passion for the art.
Wait, I lie.
I will make another reference, one that the Sheriff might appreciate. A young big eared Scouse bastard who looks like Shrek will be our villain or hero, however you want to put it. On the other end, there is this beautiful team in Red and White who have gone unbeaten for several games, hell they may have even broken a few long standing records.
Now our hero/villain decides to take a run into the box. The big eared man is not known for taking advantage of the rules, being English and all that. Now during his run the Shrek-like lummox decides to go against his usual nature (chuckle) and takes a spill. The man in black points to the spot and the beautiful team in Red and White has given up a penalty. This penalty basically ends the longest unbeaten streak by the team in Red and White.
HOWEVER, no one will put our hero in stocks for this, and the fucking scum does it again a couple seasons later and again to another team and again and again. He is lauded by his followers as a hero and by supporters of the beautiful team in Red and White as a sneaky fucking bastard.
Fuck Rooney!
So, I do not blame the Irish for saying, "Fuck Henry!", as I know they will. I can only shrug at that, because it could have easily gone the other way and I'd be saying, "Fuck Keane!", actually I say that all the time cause he is a sneaky little bastard who couldn't cut it at Liverpool.
The reality is, I actually missed the whole thing.
I do want to take a moment and thank all my comrades for sending me updates while I was trying to save people from their legal messes. Good looking out!
I headed down to the pub right after work. I found it to be one of the longest drives that I have ever endured. I parked and metered my car, of course my card wasn't working in the stupid pass machine, so I grabbed some assorted coins and dropped them in, not paying too much attention to how much time I really had. I ran down the street, into the pub and bounded up the steps, knowing the scoreline was 1-1(2-1 agg). I got a ticket, later in the evening.
Some of the Irish supporters that were familiar with me either gave me a solemn nod or a glare followed by something along the lines of cheating bastards. ChelskiGirl and Irish both gave me shit for about 10 seconds and all I could do was shrug and say "I didn't see a thing."
I braved the mass of angry green and found myself in the French Quarter. A very different mood all together. I kept my head low, but had a big grin on my face as I watched the clock keep on ticking. I was really hoping Les Bleus would put in another, just so the one goal would be a mere footnote but to no avail.
Peep. Peep. Peep. It's all over in Paris.
The rest of the evening was spent imbiding Carlsbergs with Vinny, MiniMourhino and the eventual arrival of Sheffield. We kept it going for some time and finally I was able to see the play. Yes about 2 hours after the game was over.
I can say this. Yes, it was a handball.
~LeChat
As many of you already know, there was a sleight of hand that allowed Les Bleus to go through. There are arguments about how the game should be replayed, about how Henry has tainted his soul and the such. I think what everyone is truly forgetting here, being a voice of reason, is that it is FOOTBALL!
We know this game. We love this game. We hate this game. We take this game out for dinner, grope it in the backseat and do that thing we are not suppose to do, then profess we didn't mean to do it this time and later that evening tell it about how sexy it's younger sister is in that mini-skirt she wore at Christmas last year.
See that is what the handball is, telling the love of your life how hot the younger sister is in the mini-skirt. Yes it may be true but no you really shouldn't say things like that. Sometimes you get lucky and end up in a threesome, however most of the time it is a right cross to the jaw and being very lonely.
Let me spell it out for the Scum...
You win some. You lose some. Either way, you're still a sneaky bastard.
In some quarters, you may be seen as clever, but that's only if you win. In others, well, I am sure there are some who can come up with better words than I can at the moment. For France, Henry was clever. For Ireland, he's a cheating sneaky bastard.
I could use this on other players, in other situations but what's the point? There is none. WHY? Because it's fucking football, a fucking beautiful game played by artist, judged by those who have a passion for the art.
Wait, I lie.
I will make another reference, one that the Sheriff might appreciate. A young big eared Scouse bastard who looks like Shrek will be our villain or hero, however you want to put it. On the other end, there is this beautiful team in Red and White who have gone unbeaten for several games, hell they may have even broken a few long standing records.
Now our hero/villain decides to take a run into the box. The big eared man is not known for taking advantage of the rules, being English and all that. Now during his run the Shrek-like lummox decides to go against his usual nature (chuckle) and takes a spill. The man in black points to the spot and the beautiful team in Red and White has given up a penalty. This penalty basically ends the longest unbeaten streak by the team in Red and White.
HOWEVER, no one will put our hero in stocks for this, and the fucking scum does it again a couple seasons later and again to another team and again and again. He is lauded by his followers as a hero and by supporters of the beautiful team in Red and White as a sneaky fucking bastard.
Fuck Rooney!
So, I do not blame the Irish for saying, "Fuck Henry!", as I know they will. I can only shrug at that, because it could have easily gone the other way and I'd be saying, "Fuck Keane!", actually I say that all the time cause he is a sneaky little bastard who couldn't cut it at Liverpool.
The reality is, I actually missed the whole thing.
I do want to take a moment and thank all my comrades for sending me updates while I was trying to save people from their legal messes. Good looking out!
I headed down to the pub right after work. I found it to be one of the longest drives that I have ever endured. I parked and metered my car, of course my card wasn't working in the stupid pass machine, so I grabbed some assorted coins and dropped them in, not paying too much attention to how much time I really had. I ran down the street, into the pub and bounded up the steps, knowing the scoreline was 1-1(2-1 agg). I got a ticket, later in the evening.
Some of the Irish supporters that were familiar with me either gave me a solemn nod or a glare followed by something along the lines of cheating bastards. ChelskiGirl and Irish both gave me shit for about 10 seconds and all I could do was shrug and say "I didn't see a thing."
I braved the mass of angry green and found myself in the French Quarter. A very different mood all together. I kept my head low, but had a big grin on my face as I watched the clock keep on ticking. I was really hoping Les Bleus would put in another, just so the one goal would be a mere footnote but to no avail.
Peep. Peep. Peep. It's all over in Paris.
The rest of the evening was spent imbiding Carlsbergs with Vinny, MiniMourhino and the eventual arrival of Sheffield. We kept it going for some time and finally I was able to see the play. Yes about 2 hours after the game was over.
I can say this. Yes, it was a handball.
~LeChat
16 November 2009
Internationals/WC 2010 Qualifiers at Dublin
One thing about World Cup, which I still can't figure out. I tend to spend a lot of money. Well beyond my usual amount. I am trying to wrap my head around how it happens but I blame the atmosphere.
SATURDAY
Ireland - Les Bleus: Dublin.
The morning started off with the usual foray onto the good old social network site. Posting some videos, commenting and rallying the troops. I think I spent about a good hour or two playing around on YouTube.
I found myself bored so traveled towards the pub. I figured I had roused and instigated enough on the good old social network site. I had forgotten the US game was on early but it was only a friendly. Upon entering the pub, it was a strange site. There was no one that I even knew by face on the first floor. That is how it is with the US crowd, various people at various times, nothing consistent but a whole lot of them.
To be honest, the morning did start out strange. Irish was in a bad mood unlike his normal bad mood. I figure it had to do with the amount of non-regulars in the pub or some other things going on. We greeted each other with caution.
2-1 and accepting nods.
2-1 is the score of respect. It basically means your team is good but mine is just better. And with the way the France squad was selected, I was a tad bit nervous of who would be the 2 and who would be the 1.
As I settled in and watched the Russian game, I was joined by a strange older man who had a wobbly walk. He asked to sit at the round table where I was since there was nothing at the bar. My first inclination was to be annoyed but after decided that it was a free seat and it had something to do with a greater good.
My mind, however was more focused on the impending game. The old man asked a bit about the Russian game, so I gave him a little knowledge on the game. Doing my duty for the footballing world. The old man left after a while to visit some more pubs, I presume.
ChelskiGirl popped in and gave a little hello. She found a seat at the bar. SlainteLOSC had also come in and told me about claiming some seats near the big television towards the back of the second floor. I guess it would be appropriate to call it the French Quarter.
I found my way upstairs after talking with ChelskiGirl for a few moments. It was early, hours before the game was suppose to start. A few supporters on both sides started showing up. SlainteLOSC and I were joined by a nice couple. Between our small group, we concurred that there would be about a dozen France supporters and a ton of Irish.
ChelskiGirl dropped off some fries that she didn't want but decided to head home to watch the game on her computer. Serbia was already in, so she really didn't want to pay to see the qualifier. ACMilan arrived about the time she left.
ACMilan sat in the French Quarter, chatted and hypothesized about the game and selections with us for a bit. He headed down about the time the second floor started to fill up. The French supporters quickly filled the Quarter. The Irish surrounded us but we were content in our own little bilingual section.
LilBlondieGooner showed up with her boyfriend, NightCaller. Yes, that's right, finally a nick for him, which will be discussed in a minute. It was his birthday, so I will give him a little leeway.
The game was good. It was well worth the Setanta fee and the atmosphere was amazing. I will say it again and again, there is nothing like watching Internationals in a pub. Even if your team comes out on the bad end, there's still that feeling of good will and a unity amongst supporters.
It is sad that sometimes that good will does not always extend out on to the pitch.
A fair result, since the Irish were playing an Italian game. I was walking out and one of the random Arsenal supporters thought I was a Chelski boy. I was nice about it but have to admit I was very much offended. I even exposed my Arsenal shirt to her, just to hammer home the point. We talked for a while and she showed me a picture of her son that the father wouldn't let her name Thierry Henry. She then said she was going to name her daughter that but he wouldn't allow it either. Hater.
I joined ACMilan, Vinny and MiniMourhino downstairs. MiniMourhino had been upstairs enjoying the match but I did not get much chance to talk to him. We all had a few drinks and joked around for a bit. ACMilan and I headed towards Meli for a quick bite to eat and then back to the pub.
After hanging around for some more time and watching Hockey with the ManagerInBlack, I decided it was time to head out. I started down the road back to the car and ended up following Vinny into a surprise party. I ended up back at the pub shortly after and sat around talking to MiniMourhino and T-Bone for a bit.
That is when the Zyedco music began. There was once a time I could enjoy it a little bit but I have come to despise it. I don't know why, it just grates on me like bad beer and annoying American Football supporters in obnoxious Canton bars.
It was finally time to leave. I headed towards home and got a call from ACMilan. He was at his usual antics of yelling at people while being on the phone. I knew it was trouble when he said "Hey this girl is wearing an Inter jersey."
I have to admit that it was hilarious, to say the least.
Saturday Night
I made it home and was out by 930. It was a long day and I was exhausted. Around 230AM I woke up to my cell ringing. I looked down and it was LilBlondieGooner's number so I thought something bad had happened to her boyfriend. He was a bit toasted when I had last seen him and I am sure he was worst for the wear.
I answer and it was the NightCaller himself. Apparently he was trying to get in touch with the ScouseDrummer from my band. Somehow the conversation, and I mean conversation ended up having to do something with the Ireland France game. Something about a goal that wasn't a goal and a little bit of "I don't mind because we support the same club."
I gave him the number and called the ScouseDrummer. He was at some party but I figure everything got settled. Well at least I hope it all is.
Before I was able to get back to sleep, I took a look at my phone and there was a message from A Certain Scouser. (I know I am surrounded by them, like rats.)
As a matter of fact, I've been getting random texts asking if she was mentioned this week. Seeing that the Scouser couldn't muscle it down to the pub, I guess I can give full harassment. I mean showing up just like her squad does for big games.
HAHA!
Back to normal football next weekend. Here is hoping mid-week brings World Cup spot to Les Bleus.
ALLEZ! ALLEZ!
~LeChat
SATURDAY
Ireland - Les Bleus: Dublin.
The morning started off with the usual foray onto the good old social network site. Posting some videos, commenting and rallying the troops. I think I spent about a good hour or two playing around on YouTube.
I found myself bored so traveled towards the pub. I figured I had roused and instigated enough on the good old social network site. I had forgotten the US game was on early but it was only a friendly. Upon entering the pub, it was a strange site. There was no one that I even knew by face on the first floor. That is how it is with the US crowd, various people at various times, nothing consistent but a whole lot of them.
To be honest, the morning did start out strange. Irish was in a bad mood unlike his normal bad mood. I figure it had to do with the amount of non-regulars in the pub or some other things going on. We greeted each other with caution.
2-1 and accepting nods.
2-1 is the score of respect. It basically means your team is good but mine is just better. And with the way the France squad was selected, I was a tad bit nervous of who would be the 2 and who would be the 1.
As I settled in and watched the Russian game, I was joined by a strange older man who had a wobbly walk. He asked to sit at the round table where I was since there was nothing at the bar. My first inclination was to be annoyed but after decided that it was a free seat and it had something to do with a greater good.
My mind, however was more focused on the impending game. The old man asked a bit about the Russian game, so I gave him a little knowledge on the game. Doing my duty for the footballing world. The old man left after a while to visit some more pubs, I presume.
ChelskiGirl popped in and gave a little hello. She found a seat at the bar. SlainteLOSC had also come in and told me about claiming some seats near the big television towards the back of the second floor. I guess it would be appropriate to call it the French Quarter.
I found my way upstairs after talking with ChelskiGirl for a few moments. It was early, hours before the game was suppose to start. A few supporters on both sides started showing up. SlainteLOSC and I were joined by a nice couple. Between our small group, we concurred that there would be about a dozen France supporters and a ton of Irish.
ChelskiGirl dropped off some fries that she didn't want but decided to head home to watch the game on her computer. Serbia was already in, so she really didn't want to pay to see the qualifier. ACMilan arrived about the time she left.
ACMilan sat in the French Quarter, chatted and hypothesized about the game and selections with us for a bit. He headed down about the time the second floor started to fill up. The French supporters quickly filled the Quarter. The Irish surrounded us but we were content in our own little bilingual section.
LilBlondieGooner showed up with her boyfriend, NightCaller. Yes, that's right, finally a nick for him, which will be discussed in a minute. It was his birthday, so I will give him a little leeway.
The game was good. It was well worth the Setanta fee and the atmosphere was amazing. I will say it again and again, there is nothing like watching Internationals in a pub. Even if your team comes out on the bad end, there's still that feeling of good will and a unity amongst supporters.
It is sad that sometimes that good will does not always extend out on to the pitch.
A fair result, since the Irish were playing an Italian game. I was walking out and one of the random Arsenal supporters thought I was a Chelski boy. I was nice about it but have to admit I was very much offended. I even exposed my Arsenal shirt to her, just to hammer home the point. We talked for a while and she showed me a picture of her son that the father wouldn't let her name Thierry Henry. She then said she was going to name her daughter that but he wouldn't allow it either. Hater.
I joined ACMilan, Vinny and MiniMourhino downstairs. MiniMourhino had been upstairs enjoying the match but I did not get much chance to talk to him. We all had a few drinks and joked around for a bit. ACMilan and I headed towards Meli for a quick bite to eat and then back to the pub.
After hanging around for some more time and watching Hockey with the ManagerInBlack, I decided it was time to head out. I started down the road back to the car and ended up following Vinny into a surprise party. I ended up back at the pub shortly after and sat around talking to MiniMourhino and T-Bone for a bit.
That is when the Zyedco music began. There was once a time I could enjoy it a little bit but I have come to despise it. I don't know why, it just grates on me like bad beer and annoying American Football supporters in obnoxious Canton bars.
It was finally time to leave. I headed towards home and got a call from ACMilan. He was at his usual antics of yelling at people while being on the phone. I knew it was trouble when he said "Hey this girl is wearing an Inter jersey."
I have to admit that it was hilarious, to say the least.
Saturday Night
I made it home and was out by 930. It was a long day and I was exhausted. Around 230AM I woke up to my cell ringing. I looked down and it was LilBlondieGooner's number so I thought something bad had happened to her boyfriend. He was a bit toasted when I had last seen him and I am sure he was worst for the wear.
I answer and it was the NightCaller himself. Apparently he was trying to get in touch with the ScouseDrummer from my band. Somehow the conversation, and I mean conversation ended up having to do something with the Ireland France game. Something about a goal that wasn't a goal and a little bit of "I don't mind because we support the same club."
I gave him the number and called the ScouseDrummer. He was at some party but I figure everything got settled. Well at least I hope it all is.
Before I was able to get back to sleep, I took a look at my phone and there was a message from A Certain Scouser. (I know I am surrounded by them, like rats.)
Drunk!Yay!
As a matter of fact, I've been getting random texts asking if she was mentioned this week. Seeing that the Scouser couldn't muscle it down to the pub, I guess I can give full harassment. I mean showing up just like her squad does for big games.
HAHA!
Back to normal football next weekend. Here is hoping mid-week brings World Cup spot to Les Bleus.
ALLEZ! ALLEZ!
~LeChat
09 November 2009
Wooooooolves (Away)
I can not say there is much joy happening right now. I am in nervous anticipation for the next weekend. WC2010 qualifiers, France-Ireland. I am usually not too nervous about such affairs but it began preoccupying my mind late Sunday after getting off the phone with ACMilan.
It is funny how a wonderful weekend can turn into a "wonder what the hell next weekend will bring", in a matter of moments. So, does Ireland make me nervous? Yes, I just said that. I wish I really could put my finger on why without resorting to my old stand by of,
SATURDAY
It started off alright... down the pub... have some pints, so to speak. ManCity himself was center stage prior to me getting there. For some reason or another, he kept insisting I looked like Shawn Wright-Phillips. I think I am buying him a pair from Lenscrafters for Christmas.
A couple of the part-time bistro boys came in and were going to take him over to the Bistro for the Arsenal game. They had plans to meet up with someone there, so I forgave them, this time. I also thought it would be hilarious for ManCity and his usually vocal self to be surrounded by a bunch of Gooners (at least they call themselves that) watching the Arsenal play.
I hope to run into him soon to find out how it all went. He was saying he didn't have any issues with going over there and being himself, as the bistro Gooners are a little soft. Everyone nodded in agreement.
The three headed off about the time HalfArseDean came in. It was good to see him as he had not been around for some time. ChelskiGirl showed up shortly after kick off, followed by MiniMourhino after the half. The crowd in general was a little thin but that is to be expected for late games.
Somehow a conversation was started about opening up a Relegation pub. It would be for those who are in the bottom 4 or Championship. No big teams, only BIG games. It would be a neat idea and give people like Sheffield and our local Geordies a place to watch their matches without jockeying for position against the likes of Scousers and Mancs.
After the game, I somehow found myself at the barnextdoor with ChelskiGirl and Jonfromnextdoor. The rest of the day was a bit blurry after that, with the exception of me getting nachos at Friends and running into a kid I hadn't seen in like 12 years.
SUNDAY
I expected this day to be more fun and excitement than what it was. I popped down to the pub a bit early, as I was bored and there was nothing else better to do. ACMilan was there, so we decided to grab a bite to eat and watch his game in the back section, as someone found the vapid Hull Stoke tie to be more entertaining.
I will admit, I am usually not a big fan of Italian football but it was a fairly interesting match. You had your choice between Milan and Lazio. I would have rather eaten a dog bone but choose to at least show a little support to ACMilan and not the facist. Which brings up the question of how can you tell which team is more facist in Italy? I know there is a joke in there somewhere.
Pasta, Spaghetti, Rigatoni. Don't talk about my mama's Lasagna!
That is ACMilan's joke, not mine, so no one come after me with the concrete shoes.
We sat in the back for the United Chelsea tie. We were joined by various others at various times, some just to say hello and some to stay for a while and join in our random commentary on the state of the match. We were like the two grumpy guys on the muppet show.
It was nice to see one of my original Manc friends there, but he disappeared before the end of the match. He tends to get a little riled up when Mancs or England are losing. One time I had to throw him in the back of my car and take him cross town so he didn't throw any more bottles at anyone. Funny thing is, he's one of the best lads there is out there, genuine and true.
Weird moment of the day:
Some random MancScum, actually I know exactly who he is... had some words with M. He didn't like the way she was singing with the Chelski bunch after the game. He actually threatened physical harm to her. I was standing about 1o feet away, waiting for him to take a step, which never appeared.
I figured most of it was just drunken rambling but he had a lot of balls to say some of the things he did. I think M would have handled herself though, maybe even pulled him down ala Elizabeth Lambert style.
MONDAY
I can not believe not a single Scouser gave me a score update today. I'm lumping you all back together. One big old lump of scouse, some friends you are. And by the way, if you are going to dive, at least - A. make it look good. - B. win the bloody game.
halfasses
~LeChat
It is funny how a wonderful weekend can turn into a "wonder what the hell next weekend will bring", in a matter of moments. So, does Ireland make me nervous? Yes, I just said that. I wish I really could put my finger on why without resorting to my old stand by of,
Domenech can not be trusted with the national team and he must have some naked pictures of someone in the FFF to have had this job for so long because he has really fucked it up royally on more than one occasion.
SATURDAY
It started off alright... down the pub... have some pints, so to speak. ManCity himself was center stage prior to me getting there. For some reason or another, he kept insisting I looked like Shawn Wright-Phillips. I think I am buying him a pair from Lenscrafters for Christmas.
A couple of the part-time bistro boys came in and were going to take him over to the Bistro for the Arsenal game. They had plans to meet up with someone there, so I forgave them, this time. I also thought it would be hilarious for ManCity and his usually vocal self to be surrounded by a bunch of Gooners (at least they call themselves that) watching the Arsenal play.
I hope to run into him soon to find out how it all went. He was saying he didn't have any issues with going over there and being himself, as the bistro Gooners are a little soft. Everyone nodded in agreement.
The three headed off about the time HalfArseDean came in. It was good to see him as he had not been around for some time. ChelskiGirl showed up shortly after kick off, followed by MiniMourhino after the half. The crowd in general was a little thin but that is to be expected for late games.
Somehow a conversation was started about opening up a Relegation pub. It would be for those who are in the bottom 4 or Championship. No big teams, only BIG games. It would be a neat idea and give people like Sheffield and our local Geordies a place to watch their matches without jockeying for position against the likes of Scousers and Mancs.
After the game, I somehow found myself at the barnextdoor with ChelskiGirl and Jonfromnextdoor. The rest of the day was a bit blurry after that, with the exception of me getting nachos at Friends and running into a kid I hadn't seen in like 12 years.
SUNDAY
I expected this day to be more fun and excitement than what it was. I popped down to the pub a bit early, as I was bored and there was nothing else better to do. ACMilan was there, so we decided to grab a bite to eat and watch his game in the back section, as someone found the vapid Hull Stoke tie to be more entertaining.
I will admit, I am usually not a big fan of Italian football but it was a fairly interesting match. You had your choice between Milan and Lazio. I would have rather eaten a dog bone but choose to at least show a little support to ACMilan and not the facist. Which brings up the question of how can you tell which team is more facist in Italy? I know there is a joke in there somewhere.
Pasta, Spaghetti, Rigatoni. Don't talk about my mama's Lasagna!
That is ACMilan's joke, not mine, so no one come after me with the concrete shoes.
We sat in the back for the United Chelsea tie. We were joined by various others at various times, some just to say hello and some to stay for a while and join in our random commentary on the state of the match. We were like the two grumpy guys on the muppet show.
It was nice to see one of my original Manc friends there, but he disappeared before the end of the match. He tends to get a little riled up when Mancs or England are losing. One time I had to throw him in the back of my car and take him cross town so he didn't throw any more bottles at anyone. Funny thing is, he's one of the best lads there is out there, genuine and true.
Weird moment of the day:
Some random MancScum, actually I know exactly who he is... had some words with M. He didn't like the way she was singing with the Chelski bunch after the game. He actually threatened physical harm to her. I was standing about 1o feet away, waiting for him to take a step, which never appeared.
I figured most of it was just drunken rambling but he had a lot of balls to say some of the things he did. I think M would have handled herself though, maybe even pulled him down ala Elizabeth Lambert style.
MONDAY
I can not believe not a single Scouser gave me a score update today. I'm lumping you all back together. One big old lump of scouse, some friends you are. And by the way, if you are going to dive, at least - A. make it look good. - B. win the bloody game.
halfasses
~LeChat
04 November 2009
Midweek - AZ Alkmaar Home (CL)
I know I know I usually do this the day after but I'm working on doing this today instead. When I first started this blog, I had mentioned that I would be writing on the day of eventually. I don't want to say this is the start of that veiled promise because it really isn't.
Tuesday
Better known as the retaliation from ACMilan. I'll mention it again. ACMILAN is not a turncoat or traitor or Chelski in disguise. He loves ACMilan so much. ACMilan is ACMilan even when faced with a train full of Roma supporters. Ask him about it, great story.
Tuesday Evening
Tuesday is burger night at the barnextdoor, so I was in the mood for a bleu burger, a nice pint and to pop by the pub to say "Hello" to the locals. I decided to head over after work and had a nice smooth drive. I got a decent parking spot and argued with one of the local beggars, actually the one I went Warrior of God on and doesn't seem to remember what I told him about bothering me.
I casually stroll by the pub and the Chelski locals are stumbling out. T-Bone gave me his normal greeting and started rattling off some of the high points of the CL games. MiniMourhino and Klanksy follow out a moment later with a Chelski geezer who was over for some conference on trees and had stumbled upon the pub.
We all exchanged pleasentries and I popped in to speak with the staff, who for some reason a majority of their names start with the letter "B". It's kind of odd. I know that in itself is not real strange per se, but it is a strange little pattern. I remember having a discussion with 3 out of the 4 one night when they were all working as well. Some customer or something kept getting two of them mixed up, which after thinking about it for a few minutes, you could see it and it didn't help that their names both began with "B".
Pub conspiracy or someone has taken their hiring patterns from the way Wenger buys players. (That's a little joke for those that get it.)
I go back out to the cafe tables where the Chelski boys are holding court and start saying my farewells and glad to meet yas, when it happens. For some reason, there is this vortex around the Chelski boys that sucks you in. MiniMourhino insisted I have a beer with them. I shrugged and went back in and ordered one.
What was suppose to be one beer ended up being another and listening to that infernal One Man went to mow song like 30 times. The Chelski geezer was pretty interesting though. He had grown up during the 70's in the terraces. He and I did sing Tottenham went to see the pope, which was fun in itself.
One of the local beggars came over, a bit drunken and started talking to us. He had some Ravens song, which I think he made up on the spot. He had to leave after a while though. MiniMourhino wasn't having it with him and words were thrown back and forth. The last thing I remember the guy saying to Mini was something along the lines of, "the next time I see you, you better not make me mad."
Eventually, I found my way out of the Chelski vortex. Leaving them with my Arsenal FC song and stumbling up the steps to the barnextdoor. I still had not had my burger yet and my stomach was about to remind me of that.
It appears the power of the Arsenal is very strong in this one.
Wednesday
Well we know the outcome of this glorious side that has now trounced upon whatever that team is called again. The next stages should be fun for the boys in red and white. I do understand though that my Ligue 1 team, Lyon, has created some problems for the Scousers.
I spent the better part of the game at work. I know it's very exciting. However, today was probably one of the better days for getting a lot stuff done at work. I wish every Wednesday was like today.
Fantastic result - Decent day at work - Funny texts from friends
What more is there to ask for?
~LeChat
Tuesday
Better known as the retaliation from ACMilan. I'll mention it again. ACMILAN is not a turncoat or traitor or Chelski in disguise. He loves ACMilan so much. ACMilan is ACMilan even when faced with a train full of Roma supporters. Ask him about it, great story.
Tuesday Evening
Tuesday is burger night at the barnextdoor, so I was in the mood for a bleu burger, a nice pint and to pop by the pub to say "Hello" to the locals. I decided to head over after work and had a nice smooth drive. I got a decent parking spot and argued with one of the local beggars, actually the one I went Warrior of God on and doesn't seem to remember what I told him about bothering me.
I casually stroll by the pub and the Chelski locals are stumbling out. T-Bone gave me his normal greeting and started rattling off some of the high points of the CL games. MiniMourhino and Klanksy follow out a moment later with a Chelski geezer who was over for some conference on trees and had stumbled upon the pub.
We all exchanged pleasentries and I popped in to speak with the staff, who for some reason a majority of their names start with the letter "B". It's kind of odd. I know that in itself is not real strange per se, but it is a strange little pattern. I remember having a discussion with 3 out of the 4 one night when they were all working as well. Some customer or something kept getting two of them mixed up, which after thinking about it for a few minutes, you could see it and it didn't help that their names both began with "B".
Pub conspiracy or someone has taken their hiring patterns from the way Wenger buys players. (That's a little joke for those that get it.)
I go back out to the cafe tables where the Chelski boys are holding court and start saying my farewells and glad to meet yas, when it happens. For some reason, there is this vortex around the Chelski boys that sucks you in. MiniMourhino insisted I have a beer with them. I shrugged and went back in and ordered one.
What was suppose to be one beer ended up being another and listening to that infernal One Man went to mow song like 30 times. The Chelski geezer was pretty interesting though. He had grown up during the 70's in the terraces. He and I did sing Tottenham went to see the pope, which was fun in itself.
One of the local beggars came over, a bit drunken and started talking to us. He had some Ravens song, which I think he made up on the spot. He had to leave after a while though. MiniMourhino wasn't having it with him and words were thrown back and forth. The last thing I remember the guy saying to Mini was something along the lines of, "the next time I see you, you better not make me mad."
Eventually, I found my way out of the Chelski vortex. Leaving them with my Arsenal FC song and stumbling up the steps to the barnextdoor. I still had not had my burger yet and my stomach was about to remind me of that.
It appears the power of the Arsenal is very strong in this one.
Wednesday
Well we know the outcome of this glorious side that has now trounced upon whatever that team is called again. The next stages should be fun for the boys in red and white. I do understand though that my Ligue 1 team, Lyon, has created some problems for the Scousers.
I spent the better part of the game at work. I know it's very exciting. However, today was probably one of the better days for getting a lot stuff done at work. I wish every Wednesday was like today.
Fantastic result - Decent day at work - Funny texts from friends
What more is there to ask for?
~LeChat
02 November 2009
SCUM! at Home (and I forgot the Milk Cup tie)
First of all, I want to apologize for missing the mid-week Milk Cup blog. I don't think it would have made much difference anyways. I did think about it. I watched the highlights but last week was trying, to say the least... and I'm sure my Scouse loving friends won't want me to mention too much about it. SO, I present a totally unrelated to anything football or Scouse blog filler video.
HALLOWEEN or the day The Arsenal stomped on the spirit of good ol' 'Arry!
It's not my fault you wanted to manage a shit team, mate. Scum *visibly shaking my head even as I type this.* Fahkin Scum. There is nothing more disgusting than the Scum, well Rooney had a kid but it's really not the kids fault though, is it? Not to mention that Rooney's kid came out of the womb with the Doctor's wallet and house keys.
What? I'm just saying.
The pub was a bit thin, as there was the Halloween tents and things going on the Thames but it was a decent crowd to say the least, for an early game. Gooners were a bit happier after the first 42 minutes but there were no Sp*rs supporters to be found.
I remember an email or something going about, trying to figure out the exact number of supporters that they have. I think we came up with the number 3, really 2 1/2 because the old guy with the beard is only a supporter because he's Jewish and doesn't know much about the game, but he tries.
And yes, before the Sheriff calls me anti-Semitic again for saying YIDS last week, that is why he told me he was a Sp*rs supporter. I can not make these things up. Anyways, where does MancScum get off calling me out on saying Yids...
They are the Yid Army. I didn't make that one up either, they did.
(It is a predominately Jewish area of North London.)
Wiki links.
Anyways, I'm done with the Scum as they take their rightful place below us on the table.
Fast Fact - Sp*rs have not beaten The Arsenal this century. (I know we are only 9 years into it but it's a nice little fact)
I won't mention the Scousers game too much but I do feel a tad bit of sorrow for their lot in life right now. It goes to show there are only 2 things are certain in football, and one of those is still under question.
I ended up arguing with one of the Scousers calling for Benetiz's job. I had to explain that if the players can't play because the manager is in their head, maybe they should find a new vocation. It's obvious something is going on at that club but to say that it's all Benetiz is a fahkin joke.
A few of the regular Scousers, seemed to be backing me up on my stance. I think he understood that not everything coming out of the Journo's pens is word of God because usually it's far off the mark. I may have been a little harsh but it's an argument that I find unfounded and without substance.
We shook hands and gave each other respect. I'm not a total piece of sh!t. I can respect the opinions of others, just that I'm usually right.
The Chelski game was interesting and quite a few of the blue crew showed up. The Gooners had stuck around mostly to harass everyone else and get drunk off the solid drubbing of the Scum.
When Chelski went up, the songs began flying back and forth. 3 - nil to the Arsenal was holding strong against whatever dribble was spewing from the Chelski boys and girls.
Then they got the fourth.
It was fun while it lasted. The songs and jokes continued into the MancScum game. Someone pointed out there were actually no Mancs in the pub. I think a friend of the BigAustrian showed up with some people and she may have been a Manc supporter, probably akin to having pimples I suppose. There's always one, somewhere, even if it's on your ass.
I remember some pictures being taken and a lot more singing and acting up among the regular crew. Pretzels was missed and his name was mentioned quite a few times but I'm sure he was enjoying the revelry from his spot in the terraces.
SUNDAY
Not much to mention. It was chilly and rainy. I didn't go out Halloween night, as I didn't feel like dealing with the randomness of Halloween, plus had fallen asleep around 6PM and woke up around 10PM and was overall lazy.
I had woken up earlier than usual, due to the time change. I headed down to the barnextdoor and enjoyed a good breakfast while talking with Jonfromnextdoor about the festivities of the night before, since he was working the secondfloornextdoor.
ChelskiGirl came along after a bit. Headache in tow, apparently her and A Certain Scouser got into some scotch or something at Birminghams house. Oh excuse me, BirMigHam or was it BirmingWho? Actually that works. The evolution of your blog name is now finished, in real time at that.
After a while, I went up to visit Barca, then came back to find the barnextdoor had become an American Football paradise. I had run into ManCity himself on the way back and decided to pop into the pub for the City/Shitty game. Which was a tad bit of a surprise. I figured it would be a one sided affair, so had not paid much attention to it.
I will say that with a total of maybe 10 people in the pub, that there is no doubt in my mind, that ManCity has a true passion for his club. I mean I knew it before but it's a good scene to see him being the only person screaming, or better yet encouraging his side to put one in and get it over with.
It was also probably the first time I actually sat and watched a game with really just him. Well there was a friend of his that had shown up just before I did and I believe one of the random Gooners that I am not too acquainted with but only by face, was sitting in the corner booth. It was a good random time though.
Sunday Evening
(liberties were taken with the conversation per my artistic license)
*musical ringtone*
me - Hey Milan.
AC - HEY! Man you should be here. OH my God this girl is hot.. she can't be with that dude. (yelling at couple) HEY is that your daughter? She's too hot for you!
me - Where?
AC - South Beach
(yelling at couple) No is that really your girlfriend? What does she... Are you sure?
me - You're so getting your ass kicked.
AC - It's like 80 here, I bet you are freezing your ass off.
me - meh, 50's and you're a dick for calling me from South Beach
AC - huh... oh man I swear that fat ugly guy can't be with that girl.
~Random talk about football and the weekend~
AC - OH you know that picture of me with the Chelski jersey, don't show that to anyone ok. It might ruin my reputation.
ME - Sure thing.
~LeChat
HALLOWEEN or the day The Arsenal stomped on the spirit of good ol' 'Arry!
It's not my fault you wanted to manage a shit team, mate. Scum *visibly shaking my head even as I type this.* Fahkin Scum. There is nothing more disgusting than the Scum, well Rooney had a kid but it's really not the kids fault though, is it? Not to mention that Rooney's kid came out of the womb with the Doctor's wallet and house keys.
What? I'm just saying.
The pub was a bit thin, as there was the Halloween tents and things going on the Thames but it was a decent crowd to say the least, for an early game. Gooners were a bit happier after the first 42 minutes but there were no Sp*rs supporters to be found.
I remember an email or something going about, trying to figure out the exact number of supporters that they have. I think we came up with the number 3, really 2 1/2 because the old guy with the beard is only a supporter because he's Jewish and doesn't know much about the game, but he tries.
And yes, before the Sheriff calls me anti-Semitic again for saying YIDS last week, that is why he told me he was a Sp*rs supporter. I can not make these things up. Anyways, where does MancScum get off calling me out on saying Yids...
They are the Yid Army. I didn't make that one up either, they did.
(It is a predominately Jewish area of North London.)
Wiki links.
Anyways, I'm done with the Scum as they take their rightful place below us on the table.
Fast Fact - Sp*rs have not beaten The Arsenal this century. (I know we are only 9 years into it but it's a nice little fact)
I won't mention the Scousers game too much but I do feel a tad bit of sorrow for their lot in life right now. It goes to show there are only 2 things are certain in football, and one of those is still under question.
I ended up arguing with one of the Scousers calling for Benetiz's job. I had to explain that if the players can't play because the manager is in their head, maybe they should find a new vocation. It's obvious something is going on at that club but to say that it's all Benetiz is a fahkin joke.
A few of the regular Scousers, seemed to be backing me up on my stance. I think he understood that not everything coming out of the Journo's pens is word of God because usually it's far off the mark. I may have been a little harsh but it's an argument that I find unfounded and without substance.
We shook hands and gave each other respect. I'm not a total piece of sh!t. I can respect the opinions of others, just that I'm usually right.
The Chelski game was interesting and quite a few of the blue crew showed up. The Gooners had stuck around mostly to harass everyone else and get drunk off the solid drubbing of the Scum.
When Chelski went up, the songs began flying back and forth. 3 - nil to the Arsenal was holding strong against whatever dribble was spewing from the Chelski boys and girls.
Then they got the fourth.
It was fun while it lasted. The songs and jokes continued into the MancScum game. Someone pointed out there were actually no Mancs in the pub. I think a friend of the BigAustrian showed up with some people and she may have been a Manc supporter, probably akin to having pimples I suppose. There's always one, somewhere, even if it's on your ass.
I remember some pictures being taken and a lot more singing and acting up among the regular crew. Pretzels was missed and his name was mentioned quite a few times but I'm sure he was enjoying the revelry from his spot in the terraces.
SUNDAY
Not much to mention. It was chilly and rainy. I didn't go out Halloween night, as I didn't feel like dealing with the randomness of Halloween, plus had fallen asleep around 6PM and woke up around 10PM and was overall lazy.
I had woken up earlier than usual, due to the time change. I headed down to the barnextdoor and enjoyed a good breakfast while talking with Jonfromnextdoor about the festivities of the night before, since he was working the secondfloornextdoor.
ChelskiGirl came along after a bit. Headache in tow, apparently her and A Certain Scouser got into some scotch or something at Birminghams house. Oh excuse me, BirMigHam or was it BirmingWho? Actually that works. The evolution of your blog name is now finished, in real time at that.
After a while, I went up to visit Barca, then came back to find the barnextdoor had become an American Football paradise. I had run into ManCity himself on the way back and decided to pop into the pub for the City/Shitty game. Which was a tad bit of a surprise. I figured it would be a one sided affair, so had not paid much attention to it.
I will say that with a total of maybe 10 people in the pub, that there is no doubt in my mind, that ManCity has a true passion for his club. I mean I knew it before but it's a good scene to see him being the only person screaming, or better yet encouraging his side to put one in and get it over with.
It was also probably the first time I actually sat and watched a game with really just him. Well there was a friend of his that had shown up just before I did and I believe one of the random Gooners that I am not too acquainted with but only by face, was sitting in the corner booth. It was a good random time though.
Sunday Evening
(liberties were taken with the conversation per my artistic license)
*musical ringtone*
me - Hey Milan.
AC - HEY! Man you should be here. OH my God this girl is hot.. she can't be with that dude. (yelling at couple) HEY is that your daughter? She's too hot for you!
me - Where?
AC - South Beach
(yelling at couple) No is that really your girlfriend? What does she... Are you sure?
me - You're so getting your ass kicked.
AC - It's like 80 here, I bet you are freezing your ass off.
me - meh, 50's and you're a dick for calling me from South Beach
AC - huh... oh man I swear that fat ugly guy can't be with that girl.
~Random talk about football and the weekend~
AC - OH you know that picture of me with the Chelski jersey, don't show that to anyone ok. It might ruin my reputation.
ME - Sure thing.
How's the weather in South Beach now?
~LeChat
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