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.
Chim Chim! Top of the league but the blue scum have a game in hand. As usual, did not see the match because of it being a mid-week but thanks to my trusty handy dandy mobile, I was able to keep up with all the scores. I mean all the scores from all the leagues, seriously I considered turning it off for a moment but I did not.
Yes, I'm addicted.
I did head down to the pub after work. A Certain Scouser sent me a couple texts about watching the Liverpool replay. As I figured it, there would be at least something to do on a Wednesday evening that didn't have anything to do with me computer games and this gigantic bottle of Brugal.
I already knew the outcome but thought I'd have a pint anyways. MiniMourhino was walking his dog by and had a few words with him. He had to do a few things so he headed off into the sunset that had already set.
GingerScouse popped by. We discussed the Haiti United shirts, of which he had already received a couple of his. Then he was telling me about the fundraiser the Point Scousers are putting on at Alexander's Tavern.
Let me make sure I get it straight, from 4pm-10pm on Saturday 23 Jan 2010. For a minor donation that goes to the Red Cross Haitian Relief Fund, you get happy hour prices and for a bigger donation, I believe there is a door prize. (Rumour has it, Scousers have nicked some sweet merch for the door prize)
I really expect all that read this, to try and be there. Haiti has gotten the bad end of the global stick for a long time and is currently being date raped by mother nature. We are all one people in one world and need to look out for each other.
OH and by they way.... this and this. Two class designed shirts in which all proceeds go to Haiti Relief Funds.
First of all I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope all your celebrations went well and you are looking forward to the fun of the weekend. My celebrations will be tame by virtue of falling ill once again with a cold. Figures, the last day of the year, I spend half of it in bed. However, the second half is proving to be more of the usual show.
(I believe it was the shot of Brugal in the tea.)
Quick reminder, for those who are coming. Station (my band) is playing the Sidebar on the 2nd. I hope that you all can make it out, but if not, so be it.
So Portsmouth, a team I actually feel kind of bad for, is having tons of issues both on and off the pitch. I hope they can get it together. Here is to wishing Pompey a better new year and to a great escape out of relegation.
I remember, fondly, Leeds dropping... dropping... dropping and I really didn't care too much. They, well didn't deserve to drop, but I had no real feelings for it either way. Portsmouth on the other hand I have a soft spot for.
Play up Pompey. Play up!
So shall I do a quick look back? Well not really, nothing exciting is happening. I started this blog on a whim, well a well thought out whim. I felt like there were stories from a supporter's perspective that needed to be told. We all hear about this player and that, this coach and that, but we seem to forget about what makes the teams keep going.
They cynic in me would say, the all mighty pound, dollar, euro or what have you. In essence though, the bare bottom of it, is heart. Now I sound like one of the Cantona Joga Bonito adverts.
The fact of the matter is, if there wasn't this heart, passion or rabid spirit for these teams/leagues. There would be no teams/leagues. For comparison, while the MLS is still a toddler there is not as much support, even in comparison to say Coca Cola division 2. Better yet, let's talk about the defunct NASL.
The NASL had names with star power, even changed some of the rules to accommodate the masses, however it did not enjoy the same support as some of the European and South American leagues and teams. It's this support, the cogs in the wheel that keep things going.
The only time you hear about supporters of proper football, it is usually in the light of "hooliganism" reported by some short-sighted journo who needs a story before their deadline. While I'm not against like minded individuals stomping the shit out of each other on a Saturday afternoon. I am against the over-simplification and denegration of the wide range of supporters that do exist.
This is why I do this blog. Hopefully someone will stumble across it and it will open their eyes and they will go "Hey, this doesn't seem all that bad Martha." They will come to understand that because someone puts on a kit and scarf and sings mildly offensive songs at the top of their lungs at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, that they are not bad people or even miscreants or soccer hooligans, as a woman put it to me a few seasons ago.
Well here's to a new decade and hopefully an excellent finish to an already surprising EPL season. I hope to see those that are near soon and those that are far, some time later.
Alright, here we go. I was debating on whether I should start this from mid-week or not. I decided, probably against my better intuition, why not... funny things did happen. So grab a cup of tea and some warm slippers.
Christmas Eve-Eve
The night prior my old indoor friends were looking for people to fill in for their match at local indoor arena. I had nothing better to do so figured I would make an appearance and run around a bit. I jotted out a quick, "I'll be there," and that was done.
After work, I decided it would be best for me not to travel all the way to the homestead and go have some food and drinks at one of the fine establishments between the arena and work. I made some calls and met up with ChelskiGirl for a couple. She was filling me in on her trip, since I hadn't heard anything from her since she had returned.
Somewhere along the second cocktail or so, a bright idea came across to go see this Polish Christmas Carole Parade. We met up with a couple of her friends and ended up amongst a mob of Polish/Semi-Polish or whatever. There was a truck pulling a guy with an accordian, a drummer with a full drum set and a couple of horn players.
I mean it had to have been well over 100 people all massed on Broadway singing Jingle Bells. When we got up there with the santa hat wearing friends, it was just in time for the critical mass to begin its movement.
Things to note: Christmas Eve Eve was bloody cold, well bloody cold to be walking around and caroling. I just wanted a beer. Apparently, there are other people who really like this sort of thing. Correction: A shit ton of people who like said thing.
That's me hiding my face with one of the Santa Hat wearing friends.
Well after following the procession around for five more minutes, ChelskiGirl and I ducked out to her other place of employment to imbibe in some Chocolate Stouts. It was just the thing needed for a cold winter night.
My infinite wisdom, having about 3 of these Stouts, was in a mood to go play some football. I was tip top as they say. I make it to the arena and play had already started. I changed into the old uniform, felt good, made my way to the floor and hopped on as a sub. Less than 1 minute on, the other team wanted me to change, for kit clashing. The ref was even a little confused and whispered a comment as such.
Being the uniformly anal person I am about my kits, I put on the other black one, without the white fade and all was good. There's not much to mention of the game. I stumbled around for a bit, shoved a couple of people but didn't gain any cards.
I was having a good time though, so I hope I can fill in some other time. My ankle didn't even bother me, which is always double plus good. Now if I could only get the defense to pump the ball forward to me, then maybe I could have one of my little cheeky goals that I like.
On the way home, in my mind... I started calling randomly selected people from my phone. I still don't know why. A Certain Scouser was the unlucky one who answered. We talked for a bit, apparently she was in Buffalo robbing houses or something. That's all I can really remember her saying and something about not driving crazy, still unsure on that last part.
Actual Christmas Eve
The day started out nice. I was surprised that my ankle wasn't giving it to me, which had me overjoyed. That evening, some of us were getting together for a Christmas Eve dinner. I was bringing the eggnog or so it had been decided over Chocolate Stouts the night before or somewhere along the line.
I will point out two cool things, besides giving ChelskiGirl her BFF mug, which was more embarrassing to buy than anything else. A big giant pink mug for my BFF, I know the girl at the register was thinking I had some issues. Well I did get this great Madness tea towel. I need to figure out where to put it, but that's the first cool thing.
Second cool thing was Birmingwho coming in late, a bit well for the wear. He offered some vodka that he had but there was less than a quarter of the bottle left. He was in rare form and kept saying "Arsenal are going to lose to Villa, you know that right." He must have repeated it like 5 times before knocking over several glasses of water and then passing out on the couch.
Christmas Day
Two words: BRUGAL RUM!
My Real (facist) loving cousin's wife had me in the family Christmas exchange. We cracked it open and had cuba libre's all afternoon. Beauty, eh?
Boxing Day!!! (St. Stephen's Day)
This has seriously become my favorite holiday, especially over the most recent years since you can get so many games on the satellite now. It's footballing heaven. Well, the Arsenal weren't playing til Sunday, due to whatever genius who created the schedule. However, the day did hold some nice points dropping surprises and a Scouser win. You don't see too many of those lately.
I just realized my speakers have gone to shit on my desktop. It took an Untouchables song to realize it. Hmm, surround sound here I come.
Boxing day had a weird non-influx of people. HalfArseDean pointed it out but I hadn't noticed. It was a significantly smaller crowd than in the past. Maybe the weather, maybe people traveling cause of the weekend being long but it still had an energy about it in my opinion.
I LOVE BOXING DAY!
St. John the Apostle's Day (otherwise known as the day after Boxing Day)
Did I ever tell you I love the Saint's calendar? It's a very interesting hodge podge of people who have been beatified. Now don't think I'm some over zealous religious nut but I do find the subject interesting to say the least. I blame it on Art History, you can't escape the subject.
The Arsenal were playing early, so as normal I did not go out late the night before. I make it into the pub to be greeted by an overly jovial GrumpyGooner. Well with a very loud, "Yah fahkin Cunt!"
His excuse is that he had been up all night, enjoying the life and got zero sleep. I do feel bad that his girl had to wake him up and drag his big ass down to the pub. GrumpyGooner was in rare form, even tried picking a fight with a 4 year old, who probably could have taken him in his state. The 4 year old was non-plussed to say the least. His mum is a Gooner, so she made sure GrumpyGooner didn't get the bottle to the head.
Well the pub Gooners are starting to have some injury woes as well, LilBlondieGooner broke her clavicle or something. She's in a brace, but seriously, don't help her cut her French Toast. She was about to stab NightCaller.
HalfArseDean wound her up a little bit as well. I thought she was going to have him. I thought they gave you pain medication to sedate you. I mean she's small and all, would figure she'd be half knocked out.
Bayern gave me a nice shirt. I felt kind of bad, cause as usual I was present-less. I just wanted to give a big hearty thanks mate and seriously...
Who the Fuck Are MAN UNITED?
I am going to give it to Hull, making them bastards work for their points. I just wanted them to drop two. I hadn't counted on a Hull win but it would have been nice. It would have been nice. It would have been nice. MancScum!
Oh and for those that read this and like American Football.
FUCK PITTSBURGH! FUCKING SCUM!
MONDAY (Sorry I am not looking up the Saint)
OK, I know it's not the day after but this is comedy gold, and I quote, The Guardian of course,...
Roberto Mancini, the new Manchester City manager, predicted his side could catch Chelsea at the top of the Premier League after their 3-0 defeat of Wolverhampton Wanderers maintained his immaculate start as Mark Hughes's replacement.
I should really start this week on the Friday since the Friday almost made my Saturday not happen. Due to the suggestion of a so called friend aka Scouse supporting drummer, we had a few drinks at a place called Bad Decisions. Mind you, it's a good place, but the temptation of actually having Brugal, my number one rum, sitting on the shelf made for an interesting evening. I made it home safely.
Saturday, began on an unusual note, dropping people off at the airport on 4 hours of sleep. Driving home from the airport my body decided it had enough. I prayed to all of them to get me home and let me catch a few bites of sleep before heading down for the early chelski match, the free buffet and seeing some of the regulars who hide during the summer.
I swear, I tried, rolled over, then decided I felt alright and headed on down. I prayed once again and declared that it must be some weird motion sickness.
"come on body, 10 minutes, just let me park..."
It would be a shame to destroy my not looking too great at the moment interior, does need a vacuum and once over for dust on the dashboard. The negotiations worked and I was able to park, a prime free spot with a bit of shade.
The walk to the pub was uneventful, yah free parking requires walking and I was planning on trying to make it all day. The upside down-ness of my stomach disappeared the closer I got, all anticipation to greet the new season. I yank open the doors, to the game already in progress and belt out..
"You're just a shit club in Fulham! You're just a shit club in Fulham! You're just a shit club in Fuuulham! You're just a shit club in Fuulham!"
That was my high point in the morning. I shook some hands, said Hey to some Hi to others and a simple nod of recognition to those who were too far away. After my grand entrance, my stomach decided to give me a nod of recognition and immediately ordered me a coke.
I went upstairs, took a look at the buffet and decided half a bagel would suffice. Thinking I'd ease my way to the back once I got back downstairs and lay down in one of the booths. Apparently sitting in comfy booth land also makes one nod off if they aren't up to par.
A couple Chelski natives let me know that I wasn't going to get any rest and proceeded to harass me until I walked back up and joined them by the big screen. I tried to hang as long as I could. My mate from Sheffield shows up and I try to hang a bit longer but my body was saying "GO HOME YOUNG MAN!" So, I said see you at noon around the 80th minute. Apparently missing some high points of that game.
The middle of the day I could actually care less about but since it was opening weekend I wanted to see it all. However, the 2 hours of sleep I got really made a difference. Slightly refreshed and more energized I made my way back to the pub.
The way people look at you and tell you that you looked like "death warmed over earlier today" is actually kind of funny. Anyways took my seat next to the Bladesman and my Gooner mate and we decided to check out the Sheffield United score.
A little secret, we all have a soft spot for Sheffield United just because of my mate. Great guy and always is looking out for you. The result of course led into a course of "You fill up my senses!" to which 4 or 5 pub faithful joined in, including the wonderful Irish bartender we all love to hate.
"You fill up my senses" can actually be heard at random times, depending on how many of the pub faithful are within singing distance from each other. It's a great song. As well as the other favorite of mine, "Who the fuck are Man United?", "Down the pub, Have some pints" and the winter time medley of "Feed the Scousers" and a couple of naughty tunes about ice and runways.
So we get a glorious showing of what a team full of under 25's thinks of what such and such pundit has to say about them having nothing to play for but fifth place this season. Like clockwork they were giving Arsene a handjob in the papers this morning.
Sunday Sunday Sunday, much better. I spent most of the rest of Saturday either in bed or watching movies. I ventured out for a 6pm Chipotle burrito and hit the bed around 10PM with a shot Theraflu, to make sure I had no more sickness.
I headed down to enjoy a little harassment of the Manc supporters, one of my favorite past-times. Some of them are really good guys, so they give it back just as much, fun time had by all. What's the sense in going to the pub if you can't have the friendly rivalries? Well at least here in the states.
I got myself a bit of the buffet and sat down next to Grumpy Gooner. I think that's a great name from him but he's one of my best mates, just came out with another book that I need to get him to sign. The first was fantastic. I expect more of the same.
One of the Mancs had a Saturday like my Friday, so I tortured him with my plate of beans and tomatoes. Funny thing is the rum did him in as well, different brand but it was still rum. Even funnier part is that it was his girlfriend's birthday and she was feeling just fine.
I decided to try my hand with a Newcastle Brown. Things were looking up, slowly sipping. Grumpy Gooner and I got bored so we decided to sit outside at the tables and chat about life, the universe and everything.
Chelski girl decided to show up a little later to the party, fashionable I guess. We decided that eating all the salmon would be a good idea, well at least I did. Forgive me I hadn't really ate for a whole day, minus half a bagel and a burrito.
So the pub becomes awash with reds..."mind your wallets." The weird thing was some odd Spurs fans that decided to show up. I didn't realize that these people actually existed. I thought they were only in fairy tales, like hobbits. You know, nothing threatening more of something to laugh at.
However, the poor, poor Scousers were not laughing and hardly smiling. I can't say I don't blame them myself. It was a few pitiful calls and the game is lost. I had told someone on Saturday that there are only two things certain in football; the first is the game is 90 minutes, the second and the most important...
