Sunderland at home (Birthday weekend!!!)

Let's be honest, it was all a blur this weekend. Well a bit more of a blur than what the usual weekend is, so to speak. My actual birthday was on Friday, just to keep the record straight, and I spent the evening quietly sipping New Castle's with an old friend at his establishment for a couple hours before calling it an early evening.

Saturday

Our intrepid adventure begins at the well known pub, a familiar place of contemplation and introspection. Here is the summation of what I can actually remember from that morning. Firstly, NO IRISH. What the heck??? I could not believe he would go on vacation and miss this match. Yes there was a match, MancScum and Toffees. There was a score line, which was quite a nice surprise for all to enjoy.
Thank you Blue Scouse.

I also know there were a lot of strangers in the pub. I am not complaining about that but it was very odd. I believe there was a total of two that I actually knew beyond mere facial recognition. However, I couldn't be bothered with the strangers... FERGIE was turning RED!

I just read something today about him forbidding his young players from wearing colourful boots.

Sir Alex Ferguson has become the first top-flight manager to take a stand against brightly coloured football boots.
Under new rules Manchester United's junior players have been banned from wearing anything other than old-school black while on club business.

-Guardian, Sir Alex Ferguson sticks the boot in...

NOW, I do not fully disagree with him, for once; it can happen. I think you better be the bees knees if you're going to put on some hot pink boots. Your goal average better be somewhere near 1.5/match or one hell of a play-maker. Yes, I'm looking at you Mr. Bendtner. I can score from the 6 yard box, actually that's my specialty but then again I spent more time playing indoor and I wasn't getting paid the GNP of a small island nation.

Anyways, back to Saturday. The Arsenal faithful started streaming in shortly prior to the end of the MancScum match. The Chelski boys came in drips and drabs but since it was my birthday weekend, we got the big screen. I actually think we may have been even on numbers. Chelski boys decided they would try their luck on the second floor since the rugby was not being televised.

Interestingly enough, we were having a conversation about Arse St. Nick, who had done a sojourn to Kenya and "got married" and hadn't been seen since. There had been some conjecture and speculation about what he had really been up to. He walks in around 60 minutes, to cheers and several well placed jibes about his trip.

He seemed happy to be back with the boys. He immediately started buying me shots since it was my birthday. I don't think we did the same shot twice. I kept complaining I had to make it out to band practice but that didn't stop the shots.

The Chelski boys came down after their match and got into celebration mood with the Arsenal. Songs and jokes started going back and forth. I believe with the dozen and half hooligans we had assembled, it was the loudest the pub had been in a long time. I am sure the drinks flowing had quite a bit to do with it as well, but it was definitely a good time.

Somehow StormtrooperChelski thought it was funny to go grab a pile of snow and stuff it down the back of my shirt. Cheeky bastard! I guess I deserved it for calling them all a bunch of batty boys as they headed upstairs to watch their match.

Band practice went off pretty well. We have a Clash tribute show coming up this next weekend. We will be preforming Spanish Bombs and Guns of Brixton at the Sidebar. Doors at 5 and we will be on second. Flyer, for those who care.

If you want something more cerebral, GrumpyGooner will be reading from his book, Hated and Proud at Atomic Books, at 7 PM. Here's some of the text from their site.

DANCE OF DAYS - MARK ANDERSEN
HATED & PROUD - SAB GREY

Saturday, February 27, 7PM. .
Admission: Free. Atomic Books.

Mark Andersen will be discussing his book Dance of Days: Two Decades of Punk in the Nation's Capital - a fantastic and comprehensive look at DC's famous punk scene.

Sab Grey - who was part of the very scene that Mark Andersen chronicles is now a novelist. He will be reading from his new book, Hated & Proud.

Yes, I shamelessly promote my mates as well. So if you got something going on, let me know and it will be added in here.

Saturday Night

Birthday Spectacular time! ChelskiGirl's birthday was Sunday and mine was Friday, so we decided to do a joint party. Initially, our intention was to get the top deck at the pub but to no avail, another party had beaten us to it. Dirty bastards! We were given the second floor at the barnextdoor, which is another nice place.

Let's just say it was a good time. I don't want to get into details but somehow there were some people, not associated with the party that took over about half the bar prior to everyone getting there. I shrugged my shoulders, so be it. I had no idea how many of us were actually going to show but we did turn up in numbers.

Once again, get enough of the pub hoolies drunk and in a space together, the singing begins. Fill up my senses and Arseloba seemed to be the songs of preference for the night, since they were probably the least offensive and neutral.

We closed out the bar and one of my longest known friends, MERN and I stumbled our way down the street. We stood on a corner talking for about 2 minutes when a pair of young ladies decided to join us for a chat. We hung out with them for a bit before I decided it was probably best to tuck it in and head home. I wasn't feeling the scene too much, as I was getting stuck with the grenade or as my Italian friends that I met in Ireland would say, "Bomba Atomica!"

MERN, on the other hand, did quite well for himself. The next afternoon he sent me a text saying the girls were looking for me after I had disappeared. I mean they locked themselves in the bathroom to evacuate their evening's consumption, plus I had to be the one to jump on the grenade; you would disappear too.

Sunday Morning

I am feeling very well. I decide to head towards the pub and have a nice breakfast of Eggs Benedict and a warm coffee. To my elated surprise, Bridge was working instead of Irish. I took a seat next to Shane and watched the early game, of which my mind is now testing me, Burnley Villa, maybe, and something else. It did not matter much because the ManCity show was about to begin.

One of the better reasons to awake from about 3 hours of sleep is watching ManCity. It is not so much as ManShitty the team but ManCity himself. I think the comment that was made went something like, "that guy is like four fans in one." To which, my laughter attracted his attention and he came over and said, "I know you guys are talking about me because you're laughing too much." This was followed by more laughter.

Another highlight is that ManCity has taken to calling SWP by my name, which all the locals know and don't pay it much mind. However a pair of Scousers who I had never even seen before kept asking each other, why does he keep calling SWP other names. Now that was hilarious. I think they finally got the joke, but you never know.

Which reminds me, of my Olympics diving competition joke that took half the pub about five minutes to figure out. I do love a good delayed laugh. I got told I was being too cerebral for a Sunday morning. Mighty grim up North, mighty grim.

After the match I sat with Vinny and ChelskiPizzaman for a bit. We talked a bit about the weekend and various other absurdities as in parking tickets, being towed and the MVA.

All in all, it was a great weekend. Thanks to all that came out and celebrated with ChelskiGirl and myself. Thanks to all for the birthday wishes and thanks to ACMilan for the great Arsenal tuke.

ALRIGHT - one last thing. My spell check totally hates me. I am sorry I am not super Americanised and spell every stupid word the way you want me to spell it. It's a bloody tuke, woolie, beanie, whatever the fuck you want to call it. And one more fucking thing. I do use the ~s instead of ~zed at times and fuck you spell check, I said fucking ZED! And how come you don't have trouble with the words fuck or bastard, you stupid fucking, cunting spell check! PISS OFF!

~LeChat

Porto Away (CL)

OUCH!

That hurts! Don't let it happen again.

I had some great jokes about Polish Keepers but I think Fabianski totally made them all a little too accurate. I bet if we put a Polish Striker in the net and put Fab up front, maybe we would win some games. Apparently Fab has a nose for goal, as they say.

Let's see, midweek and I was at work. OF course my phone was constantly ringing and since I had not been at work for a week and a day because of the snow and holiday, I had zero time to even entertain sending back a text message.

Needless to say, I really wasn't much into talking to anyone yesterday as it was. I can sulk on my own, Anelka has nothing on me!

I did have an interesting conversation via FB with LilBlondieGooner about the Arsenal keeper issue. She is convinced the solution lies in the Italian, of course I feel that the solution exists in finding a new David Seaman. Actually, he used to make me quite nervous during corners. Hmm, I wonder if cloning is possible?

I should have probably put down a few lines about last weekend, however I was equally unmotivated. For the first time in about a week, I was able to venture from my icy dungeon and make it towards the pub. I have to admit, there was not much excitement going on either day, FA cup matches and that was about it. I did stay out quite a bit longer than usual on Sunday and even took in the Italian Oscars with ACMilan, which is always good for a laugh. Go Juve!

Now this week coming up should provide some real entertainment. Premiership is back on the screen, my birthday is Friday, ChelskiGirl's birthday is Sunday and we are having a joint party on Saturday eve, upstairs at the bar next door. I just hope I can remember it all, I usually do. So, if you are reading this, know that you are invited, the more the merrier is what I say.

Well I feel I need to finish my sulking, practice makes perfect.

~LeChat

Liverpool at Home

Once again the red tide of Scouse has been turned back during a mid-week fixture. As usual, yours truly could not avail himself to witness it at the pub, due to reasons beyond his control and for once, not concerning actually being at work.

Yes, that's right. SNOW BOUND, like a 19th century family trying to get through the Sierra Nevadas with only a few days rations and sick children. Something has got to give and if I have to resort to cannibalism, so be it.

ArsenalTV, however, gave me hope of watching, in shambled fashion, the match. It's sort of like watching a bad security tape or web-cam.

OH there's an image...there's another image...OH WAIT a couple of seconds of movement...

You can see what I am getting at. I do like the commentators though. They are a very insightful lot and the pre-show is kind of nice. They will run the highlights from a previous meeting, which is crystal clear and without all the jumpiness and buffering of the live broadcast. The thing that gets me is how clear the warm-ups are, then the whistle goes off and I'm left with what amounts to 1980's scrambled porn.

In other news, WOLVES bettered the Scum. I like Wolves, well real wolves, not too fond of Wolverhampton but they beat the Scum so that is satisfactory in my book. Mentioning wolves, I remember seeing this thing on Iberian wolves a couple years ago. I had a Siberian Husky at the time and for some reason, it was the only time that she was actually tricked into howling with the wolves on television. Funny thing that was.

Mentioning Iberia, it was one of the few airlines, up until recently that you were still allowed to smoke on. Now I am no smoker but I did find it interesting that it was one of the last holdouts, figuring since it was a Spanish airline and the Spaniards have a considerably different opinion on the issue of smoking in confined spaces.

MENTIONING the Spanish, brings me to this whole thing of not liking Franco or fascist too much in general. Actually, I have a down-right dislike of their sort and so do the Catalunyans.

MENTIONING CATALAN, there resides a little place there called BARCELONA, which houses a great and wonderful team in La Liga that goes by the name FC BARCELONA. Now I do have a fondness of said team, as they have had many dealings with the Arsenal in the past.

So in summation, I do not really care if Cesc leaves to go back to Barca. It is his prerogative. He's a man who has to do a job, just like everyone else. He's currently doing his job well and by all his personal claims, likes his employer. He just wants them to be suc-CESC-ful. Isn't that what we all want, well with differing degrees of who want to be successful?

I think I've said enough today. I need to go unstuck myself and my German machine. So for those in the area, be safe and stay warm.. for those in warmer climes...

FUCK OFF... haha!

~LeChat

Chelsea Away

Ah, once again stuck in the homestead because of another weekending snowstorm. I'll just keep it short, not to bore you with the details of my ordeals. Thank goodness for the ample supply of food, rum and cola that resides in my home.



Saturday started out as a white wash. I watched the Scousers play on ESPN while trying not to fall asleep. It wasn't the game, just me hibernating as much. Most of my day was filled looking for free movies on the internet and playing video games.

A few of the crew either gave a call or sent a text. Nothing too exciting. Of course, I decided it was better to sip on Brugal most of the day anyways. I had a cold, well the remnants of a cold from earlier in the week and was not feeling much for shoveling either.

As for Sunday, it ended up being much of the same. I started out the morning with a small bit of shoveling around the car, just so I could at least start it. For some reason, I didn't think about parking at the end of the 40 foot driveway, even if it would block in the neighbors.



I guess that is the bad thing about a shared drive, but it was eventually shoveled. After the debacle of Chelsea Arsenal. I had ArsenalTV to thank for broadcasting the audio. ACMilan also gave a call to give me a few updates. He had made the drive up from DC but he also didn't have a 40 foot drive to help with shoveling out.

I knew it was a lost cause and am kind of glad to be snowed in. Depression is so much better when you are alone. The only thing to hope is that the Arsenal will pull it through the rest of the season.

Now to look forward to the next big snow. A few more inches on Wednesday just to kick a supporter while he's down.

~LeChat

United Home

Today, as I was leaving the garage where I park at for work. I pulled forward trying to get a jump on the traffic and cross over Howard. As expected, the light was not in my favor. A guy comes walking by and had to walk around my car, as I was trying to get out in to traffic.

After passing my car, he gives me a dirty look and calls out, "Asshole."

I smiled and nodded so that it was really noticeable. Seriously dude, tell me something that I don't know. Do you really think calling me an asshole is going to affect me in any way? Seriously?

Ok, it gave me a good laugh, I know I am an asshole. I mean I played as a forward/striker for the last 20 years. I only know one thing to do, be an asshole. Self absorbed, moody, blame everyone else for their mistakes cause none of it can be my own fault... need I continue?

Well this weekend was a bit of an interesting one for me. I found myself out in the middling state of Wisconsin, hanging out with a friend of mine. We ended up in a place called McBob's to get a gander at the Fulham-Villa match.



It was a good deal for being out of the element. We also ended up doing the Miller brewery tour. Now those who know, are aware I do have a bad reaction to certain mass produced American brews. However, one can not resist a brewery tour, even if it is Miller time.



I will admit the samples that were given at the end of the tour were about the size of half pints. I also believe the next morning, the Miller had a bad reaction with my body the next morning but I survived.

Sunday found me on my early flight back. I wore my colours all through the airport and it is probably why I got the extra pat down by security. What do I care anyways? The gentleman running security happened to spend quite a bit of time in Brasil. So we ended up having a conversation about football, while I was being searched for whatever contraband that I was suspiciously carrying.

By the time I had landed, ACMilan had called wondering when I was going to make it down. I had no proper clue but knew I couldn't miss the beginning. MancScum, they were going to be undone.

I had dropped off my bag and grabbed my bass, as I had band practice due to some odd scheduling, which would see me miss the second half. I don't know when I had ever missed a second half, at least not a good time.

This was definitely not a good time. The Arsenal suffered a breakdown in the back which left them wanting. We had let the MancScum go up on us and it was going to be a hard climb. I couldn't believe it.

At the half I had to go to practice, dejected and saddened by the lackluster display of my club, I took the trip with my score notifier dinging off. Band practice must have taken some clues from the Arsenal that day, as it was way off the mark.

I packed up and headed back down to rejoin ACMilan, MiniMourhino and ChelskiGirl. I had to get some food inside me and enjoyed a fresh pint of Magners. A few Magners later and all the bad things that happened earlier in the day were gone.

My mates are tried and true. Cheers! Slainte! Salut!

~LeChat