Well what a dynamic weekend!
First things first, Saturday, I was working. Now I really do enjoy the fact that may job is meant to help out the less fortunate, however weekends... working... well I do need money from somewhere. I shouldn't bellyache about things like that and just get on with it.
Mind you I do have a soft spot in my heart for Norwich... go'on Canaries! 'ave em!
Sunday was a much more productive day. The Arsenal faithful were dealt the normal cards and seated in the Arsenal section, in the back of the pub. While the main event, MancScum v. Shitty was appearing on the bigger screens.
It was well worth it.
Since ManCity Himself decided to take a vacation to a small Caribbean territory, the One and Only decided to take his place. It was quite funny from where I sat. You could hear her voice above all the rest. The normal, quiet, reserved English lass had dropped the gloves and was out swinging.
Honestly, she made up for the lack of ManCity Himself not being there. Johnny and the boys couldn't piece together a proper song to save their lives. Well seeing that I never spied half of them before and that goes for both sides of the ScummyShitty fence.
I do want to give a hearty congrats to the Shitty though, still not a big team but keep it up and some day you'll be like your more well known and overly marketed cousin. I dare not call them brothers or the whole of Manchester would probably burn down. Aw what the hell, cousin-brothers!
The rest of the afterglow was spent chatting with Vincenzo and Camo about various things before and after the dismantling of Chelski at the hands of who? I don't know some Park Rangers or something, haven't been in the league in 15 odd years or so. Bad thing is, I actually remember when they were in the top flight. Back before the money moved in and the chairman lost his soul. Back when I could play 90 minutes and not complain about my ankles the next morning. Back when I was satisfied reading the Monday paper on Tuesday for match reports of the past weekend.
I could go on but that would be pointless.
One that note.. did anyone notice Wright-Phillips played on the left and Joey Barton on the right wing! I could tell my other joke but it's not good for mixed company.
Now for Girls Aloud! (aka The One and Only and her crew)
I know half the pub didn't get that joke, which is even funnier!
c'est la vie
~LeChat
Showing posts with label chants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chants. Show all posts
24 October 2011
14 February 2011
Wolves at Home
Happy St. Valentine's day to you and yours or it, or whatever you decide to declare your romantic interests to. Whether it be an actual living breathing human being, a sheep or that nice soft sock/pillow, etc.. and so on.
This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.
Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.
You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.
Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?
Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant
The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.
The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.
He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.
This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.
Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.
Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.
So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)
~LeChat
This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.
Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.
You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.
Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?
Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant
The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.
The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.
WIGAN ATHLETIC AIN'T NOTHING TO FUCK WITH!
He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.
This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.
Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.
Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.
So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)
~LeChat
10 May 2010
Fulham at home...
YES! I know... I WAS NOT AT THE PUB!
The half a dozen text messages I also received let me know as well. It was mother's day! And I for one am grateful for my mother, cause if it wasn't for her I don't know if I'd be as big of a supporter of the beautiful game as I am today.
So, that's where I was, spending Sunday with my mom, my aunt and bits and pieces of the extended family. I have to mention, constantly getting score updates on the phone while attending Sunday morning services shows my level of addiction, er... dedication.
At one point, my mother looks at me and asks if someone keeps calling me. I just shook my head and said, End of season, we need a draw. My mom just nods, knowingly. That's the beauty of it.
Remember, this is the same woman who one day randomly decided to tell me Beckham is crap and why she thought he was crap.
End of Season Reflection
So, looking back at the season, what do I glean out of it. To be honest, nothing spectacular or unknown from the beginning of the season. I am still the same person, for better or worst, with a few less Warrior of God moments in the last 9 months.
The club, well they still need a decent keeper, a better/more consistent defensive mid, and a sturdy back 4 with the left and rights being fully capable overlapping the wings. Is that too much to ask for?
I keep hearing names being bandied about like bikini tops during spring break in Florida. They exist but until you actually see it being pulled off, it's a whole lot of nothing and wishful thinking. In short, I don't really care right now.
WORLD CUP 2010
I'm totally not sure what to do. Someone suggested that I do a preview on the groups but that seems like it would be major work. I think I might just enjoy and not worry too much about the blog until EPL starts back up.
I am still flirting with the idea of keeping it up during the cup but it does take a lot of effort for no compensation. However I need to say, I do it for love of the sport, the club, the pub, just to write at times.
The PUB
There is a bunch I could say, but I won't say much at all. The rumours of the sound and HD are to be fully realised prior to the WC2010 matches. That does not give them much time, let's hope they can get it done and get it done right.
Sheffield and WestBrom are to be wed, shortly prior to the start of WC2010. I hope to be able to party on the beaches of Italy alongside of them for that. I know a few of the regular crew will be there, so that should be a good time.
I believe our good friend Bayern is taking a trip back to the Middle East. He will surely be missed but I wish him safe travels. I know it's not his intention to return to this area but it would be nice if he did. Good luck good friend.
LilBlondieGooner is taking a bit of time to finish her studies and is Go(ing) West.
Everyone should at least recognize the tune, from various chants, especially the One Nil to the Arsenal.
Last and most of important of all, the loss of a great supporter is still deeply heartfelt. I don't know what to say without being cliche about the whole thing. It is great that our pub even extended a spot for us to put up the framed kit with Pretzel's name across the back. There was truly only one Nick Dauner and I think he may have had a hand in Chelski winning the league.
It also makes me remember a few years ago, a good Gooner mate of mine who also fell ill and passed away a bit too soon. There are things like that which always tugs at your heart.
We have all been united by this one thing, as MiniMourinho would say, it has nothing to do with geography, race, religion or background but the very love of a single sport. I may have it slightly off but the sentiment is there.
Here's to a good FA Cup, next week... a good World Cup, starting in June... a decent season for Crystal Palace-Baltimore!
~LeChat
The half a dozen text messages I also received let me know as well. It was mother's day! And I for one am grateful for my mother, cause if it wasn't for her I don't know if I'd be as big of a supporter of the beautiful game as I am today.
So, that's where I was, spending Sunday with my mom, my aunt and bits and pieces of the extended family. I have to mention, constantly getting score updates on the phone while attending Sunday morning services shows my level of addiction, er... dedication.
At one point, my mother looks at me and asks if someone keeps calling me. I just shook my head and said, End of season, we need a draw. My mom just nods, knowingly. That's the beauty of it.
Remember, this is the same woman who one day randomly decided to tell me Beckham is crap and why she thought he was crap.
End of Season Reflection
So, looking back at the season, what do I glean out of it. To be honest, nothing spectacular or unknown from the beginning of the season. I am still the same person, for better or worst, with a few less Warrior of God moments in the last 9 months.
The club, well they still need a decent keeper, a better/more consistent defensive mid, and a sturdy back 4 with the left and rights being fully capable overlapping the wings. Is that too much to ask for?
I keep hearing names being bandied about like bikini tops during spring break in Florida. They exist but until you actually see it being pulled off, it's a whole lot of nothing and wishful thinking. In short, I don't really care right now.
WORLD CUP 2010
I'm totally not sure what to do. Someone suggested that I do a preview on the groups but that seems like it would be major work. I think I might just enjoy and not worry too much about the blog until EPL starts back up.
I am still flirting with the idea of keeping it up during the cup but it does take a lot of effort for no compensation. However I need to say, I do it for love of the sport, the club, the pub, just to write at times.
The PUB
There is a bunch I could say, but I won't say much at all. The rumours of the sound and HD are to be fully realised prior to the WC2010 matches. That does not give them much time, let's hope they can get it done and get it done right.
Sheffield and WestBrom are to be wed, shortly prior to the start of WC2010. I hope to be able to party on the beaches of Italy alongside of them for that. I know a few of the regular crew will be there, so that should be a good time.
I believe our good friend Bayern is taking a trip back to the Middle East. He will surely be missed but I wish him safe travels. I know it's not his intention to return to this area but it would be nice if he did. Good luck good friend.
LilBlondieGooner is taking a bit of time to finish her studies and is Go(ing) West.
Everyone should at least recognize the tune, from various chants, especially the One Nil to the Arsenal.
Last and most of important of all, the loss of a great supporter is still deeply heartfelt. I don't know what to say without being cliche about the whole thing. It is great that our pub even extended a spot for us to put up the framed kit with Pretzel's name across the back. There was truly only one Nick Dauner and I think he may have had a hand in Chelski winning the league.
It also makes me remember a few years ago, a good Gooner mate of mine who also fell ill and passed away a bit too soon. There are things like that which always tugs at your heart.
We have all been united by this one thing, as MiniMourinho would say, it has nothing to do with geography, race, religion or background but the very love of a single sport. I may have it slightly off but the sentiment is there.
Here's to a good FA Cup, next week... a good World Cup, starting in June... a decent season for Crystal Palace-Baltimore!
~LeChat
26 April 2010
Man City HOME
Let's say the day started off well... light... not too many cares in the world. I made an easy one out of it. Headed to the pub for some of the early matches, as usual, with no personal agenda. I caught quite a bit of the MancScum match as they handed the proper Scum a proper beating.
An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.
Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.
So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.
ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.
BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.
I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.
I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.
The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.
~LeChat
An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.
Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.
So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.
ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.
BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.
I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.
I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.
The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.
~LeChat
05 April 2010
Wolves at Home
Another holiday weekend passes with much ado about nothing. My Friday was spent stumbling around the point, trying to avoid eating meat and not avoid the finer beverages that life has to offer.
As I stated in the beginning, much ado about nothing. Sushi had become the order of the day and it was a bit underwhelming to say the least. However, the 22 ounce Kirin Lager did make things go down a little better.
I stumbled my way through the windy streets of the lower point and into the pub. It was good fortune, as I had tried to raise MiniMourinho on the phone but he was a bit under the weather.
There on the television, in it's full glory, was the MancScum and Bayern Champions League tie. While some people get upset at knowing the result prior to the finish of the game. I am one who spent most of his early days as a supporter watching replays on Wednesday afternoons when I got home from school.
In my opinion, knowing the result only gives you part of the story. It doesn't give you the full pitch battles that may have happened from end to end. The fluke that just so happened to get bobbled or just how that sprain/broken metatarsal occurred. I am one who enjoys the nuance of a good match.
Let's just say, a few rum and cokes later, I was feeling quite good and quite impressed with what Bayern had shown on the pitch. They look dangerous.
My Friday ended with a short walk up to ChelskiGirl's restaurant for a nice grilled salmon. I guess there is something good about Good Friday after all. It's funny that I follow the tradition in the spiritual sense. It's sort of like making sure I put my left shoe on first, doesn't really have anything to do with anything, just kind of a traditional.
SATURDAY
A big day for a good tie. The two thorns in my side, Chelski and MancScum were facing off. A draw was what I prayed for, as it kept both of them within striking distance and would mean that the Arsenal had a decent chance for top of the league.
As I stated and will state once again, this weekend was much ado about nothing. Seriously, while it was probably the best game I've seen from the two sides in recent week, it ruined what chance of a league title that could be seen.
At the final whistle, I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. I started pointing fingers and blaming the MancScum for being mediocre on a day when they needed to be slightly better. In my heart of hearts, I know it came down to those one or two games where the Arsenal drew instead of finishing.
Finishing, I do not believe I understand that word.
The pub had been chock full of Chelski and MancScum. There were quite a few sad faces at the end of it all. MiniMourinho decided to do another stand on the bar for a rousing course of 10 Men went to Mow.
Our small contingent of Arsenal, with the help of Sheffield and Irish decided to start singing about all sorts of things. Some of which had nothing to do with the actual games at hand.
By the time the Arsenal match came on, I was just about hoarse. It was a lackluster match from end to end. The keeper for Wolves played a nice game. I can say that and the last minute finish, well... I don't know what to say but I think the Arsenal was very lucky and I do not mind that chant one bit.
I started to watch the ManShitty match but once it was about 4-nil decided it was best for me to end the day. I mentioned to ManCity himself that they were going to score six and so it was. I think with World Cup coming up, my scoring prediction powers are re-emerging.
SUNDAY
I did not even think about football for once. Can you believe it?
Yah I lie, I just did not go out and watch any. I had more fun arguing with my church going relatives about books of the bible and general fallacies of religion as a whole. Easter is fun!
Miscellany
I am to start doing some guest writing on the Pub blog. Be on the lookout for that. It has to be of a slightly less biting style than this one, or so I've been asked. Now I need to just get myself into gear and do it.
Crystal Palace Baltimore season opener is on April 16 at UMBC. They are in a new league and it was always great fun for a long hot boring summer. This year they are to give the 35ers their own little section with beer garden included. Schedule!
It would be nice to see some of you Pub hooligans, er... I mean supporters out there lending your voice.
~LeChat
As I stated in the beginning, much ado about nothing. Sushi had become the order of the day and it was a bit underwhelming to say the least. However, the 22 ounce Kirin Lager did make things go down a little better.
I stumbled my way through the windy streets of the lower point and into the pub. It was good fortune, as I had tried to raise MiniMourinho on the phone but he was a bit under the weather.
There on the television, in it's full glory, was the MancScum and Bayern Champions League tie. While some people get upset at knowing the result prior to the finish of the game. I am one who spent most of his early days as a supporter watching replays on Wednesday afternoons when I got home from school.
In my opinion, knowing the result only gives you part of the story. It doesn't give you the full pitch battles that may have happened from end to end. The fluke that just so happened to get bobbled or just how that sprain/broken metatarsal occurred. I am one who enjoys the nuance of a good match.
Let's just say, a few rum and cokes later, I was feeling quite good and quite impressed with what Bayern had shown on the pitch. They look dangerous.
My Friday ended with a short walk up to ChelskiGirl's restaurant for a nice grilled salmon. I guess there is something good about Good Friday after all. It's funny that I follow the tradition in the spiritual sense. It's sort of like making sure I put my left shoe on first, doesn't really have anything to do with anything, just kind of a traditional.
SATURDAY
A big day for a good tie. The two thorns in my side, Chelski and MancScum were facing off. A draw was what I prayed for, as it kept both of them within striking distance and would mean that the Arsenal had a decent chance for top of the league.
As I stated and will state once again, this weekend was much ado about nothing. Seriously, while it was probably the best game I've seen from the two sides in recent week, it ruined what chance of a league title that could be seen.
At the final whistle, I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. I started pointing fingers and blaming the MancScum for being mediocre on a day when they needed to be slightly better. In my heart of hearts, I know it came down to those one or two games where the Arsenal drew instead of finishing.
Finishing, I do not believe I understand that word.
The pub had been chock full of Chelski and MancScum. There were quite a few sad faces at the end of it all. MiniMourinho decided to do another stand on the bar for a rousing course of 10 Men went to Mow.
Our small contingent of Arsenal, with the help of Sheffield and Irish decided to start singing about all sorts of things. Some of which had nothing to do with the actual games at hand.
By the time the Arsenal match came on, I was just about hoarse. It was a lackluster match from end to end. The keeper for Wolves played a nice game. I can say that and the last minute finish, well... I don't know what to say but I think the Arsenal was very lucky and I do not mind that chant one bit.
I started to watch the ManShitty match but once it was about 4-nil decided it was best for me to end the day. I mentioned to ManCity himself that they were going to score six and so it was. I think with World Cup coming up, my scoring prediction powers are re-emerging.
SUNDAY
I did not even think about football for once. Can you believe it?
Yah I lie, I just did not go out and watch any. I had more fun arguing with my church going relatives about books of the bible and general fallacies of religion as a whole. Easter is fun!
Miscellany
I am to start doing some guest writing on the Pub blog. Be on the lookout for that. It has to be of a slightly less biting style than this one, or so I've been asked. Now I need to just get myself into gear and do it.
Crystal Palace Baltimore season opener is on April 16 at UMBC. They are in a new league and it was always great fun for a long hot boring summer. This year they are to give the 35ers their own little section with beer garden included. Schedule!
It would be nice to see some of you Pub hooligans, er... I mean supporters out there lending your voice.
~LeChat
22 February 2010
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.
-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.
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
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
04 January 2010
West Ham away (FA Cup) and the New Year.
A New Year and a new blog post!
Thursday (New Year's Eve)
My plans, well there were none technically. I never make concrete plans but I think we all know that. My New Year's usually ends up with me going to the pub and hanging around to watch the fireworks across the harbor.
However, I was blindsided, waylaid, mugged by the most annoying cold that I have ever been on the receiving end of. I woke up and decided it was going to be a thera-flu morning. Which I do highly recommend for all your cold/flu needs.
Now only if I could figure out a way to get paid for my name dropping.
I was finally able to rouse myself from tomb of blankets, as it has been Frostbite Falls cold lately. I am waiting for Boris and Natasha to come ask me if I have seen moose and squirrel. These are the times I miss the husky.
So I kept my profile low and celebrated the New Year with my band mates at the guitarist's home. Quiet, mellow and breaking it down to some good old Michael before he became a shadow of his former self.
Friday (New Year's Day)
Equally quiet. There was nothing happening on the football front. I decided to go join T-Bone at the bar across the way and watch some good old American College Football.
I wasn't good luck for his home team this time. ScouseGrubs came by as well. I think I waited half an hour for some breadsticks but they were worth it. I need to remember when going into foreign territory to order before I think I need to order. There's nothing like a slow ass kitchen.
I headed to band practice after the game. I find out at practice the band that was scheduled first for Saturday canceled out. Between myself and ScouseDrummer, we were scrambling to find a replacement.
Thank goodness for a couple of comedian friends, who just happen to be 35ers (Crystal Palace USA supporters).
Saturday
FA Cup Third Round. I do not know of a more interesting competition besides the FA Cup. It pits the minnows of the lower leagues against some of the big boys. It separates those who have heart from those who are just going through the motions. It is the great equalizer and my this weekend no exception.
Third Round, of course, is when the Premiership squads start playing. This is when you get to see sides like Torquay taking on Everton and the like. Well this year I believe Torquay played Brighton Hove Albion but it could have been Everton on any other day.
So Saturday brings us the glory of mighty Reading taking on the minnows, now known as Liverpool. It was really a lopsided draw in my opinion, now I didn't discount the Scousers but This. Is. READING! It was good to see Vinny out for a bit, plus he had a beautiful winterized Reading team anorak to fight off the cold and protect his wallet.
Let's just say it was a just score line and leave it at that.
Saturday Night (Station Debut)
WELL first of all I would like to thank all my football friends that braved the sub-zero temps and joined me at the Sidebar. It was really wonderful to see all of you out there. Seriously thank you from the bottom of my heart and I do hope you all enjoyed the show.
For those that missed, let's just say it was a good debut. From what I hear, many enjoyed it. GrumpyGooner was even impressed, which is a huge compliment coming from him.
I was getting stick all night from ScouseDrummer for wearing my Arsenal top, since we both promised not to wear kits on stage. I promised that I wouldn't and I had my Who the Fuck are Man United, shirt on underneath, complements of BayernMunich.
When we hopped on the stage, I pulled off my kit as promised. ScouseDrummer on cue started singing very quietly, Who the Fuck are Man United, which made me start in on full chorus.
The singer thrusts the mic in my face, cause I had half forgotten about the mic on stage for me and I was still in the midst of strapping my bass on. All I can say is that I was ready to go now. From the crowd came a shout from the Sherrif to shut the fuck up or something of that sort.
Like I said, it was a good show.
Sunday more FA Cup
I had left out early Saturday evening/Sunday morning after the show. I am not really a hang out person unless there is some football on the television. Plus I had still been feeling rather under the weather from the New Year's cold that was bogging me down.
I woke up four hours later and found myself at the pub staring at an HD feed of MancScum discussing the previous night with HalfArseDean. Must I say, this was a very nice Sunday treat. Leeds, which I am not a big fan of either, taking it to those gits. It was a thoroughly impressive showing and to watch old Fergie's head explode was an even better treat.
I spent the better half of the match chatting with HalfArseDean and trying to help LittleSister do a crossword. ChelskiGirl came in and joined us a bit later as well, let's just say all had a bit of a laugh at the Manc's expense.
My thing is, I want to see some of the CCTV feeds from the streets of Manchester. I know there had to be some running battles. Come on, Leeds v United, classic.
So the real match's time was upon us. Some of the usual suspects strolled in at their leisure. GrumpyGooner, quite a bit better than the last weekend. LilBlondieGooner still with her arm in a sling. So like I said, nothing unusual.
To my surprise though, Jazz pops in, without a jacket, walks over to the bar and orders a Stella from Irish. What is this, a New Year's miracle? GrumpyGooner and I get a few jibes in about Leeds on him, as we all settled in for a heart stopping match.
All I am going to say is that the Arsenal were very lucky to come out of this. They really need to do themselves a little better in the favor department. I know someone might nail me on my subject verb agreements above but it's my blog and I can be ungrammatical if I want to.
Monday the unexpected.
First day back to work. That's not what was interesting.
What was interesting is that I got a message from one of Pretzel's armed forces mates. He was looking him up and stumbled across the blog. He was unaware of what had happened and contacted me to get some details. It made me feel good to give him what I knew and that somewhere a interweb spider has linked me to one of the nicest and coolest people that I have had the pleasure of meeting and then giving me a way to share that information with others.
It also made me think about how temporal everything is in this world. I don't mean to sound cliche but sometimes you must seize the moment without regrets.
Live your life as you will not have any other.
or in my usual tongue...
TAKE THE FUCKING SHOT! BLOODY FUCKING HELL!
~LeChat
Thursday (New Year's Eve)
My plans, well there were none technically. I never make concrete plans but I think we all know that. My New Year's usually ends up with me going to the pub and hanging around to watch the fireworks across the harbor.
However, I was blindsided, waylaid, mugged by the most annoying cold that I have ever been on the receiving end of. I woke up and decided it was going to be a thera-flu morning. Which I do highly recommend for all your cold/flu needs.
Now only if I could figure out a way to get paid for my name dropping.
I was finally able to rouse myself from tomb of blankets, as it has been Frostbite Falls cold lately. I am waiting for Boris and Natasha to come ask me if I have seen moose and squirrel. These are the times I miss the husky.
So I kept my profile low and celebrated the New Year with my band mates at the guitarist's home. Quiet, mellow and breaking it down to some good old Michael before he became a shadow of his former self.
Friday (New Year's Day)
Equally quiet. There was nothing happening on the football front. I decided to go join T-Bone at the bar across the way and watch some good old American College Football.
I wasn't good luck for his home team this time. ScouseGrubs came by as well. I think I waited half an hour for some breadsticks but they were worth it. I need to remember when going into foreign territory to order before I think I need to order. There's nothing like a slow ass kitchen.
I headed to band practice after the game. I find out at practice the band that was scheduled first for Saturday canceled out. Between myself and ScouseDrummer, we were scrambling to find a replacement.
Thank goodness for a couple of comedian friends, who just happen to be 35ers (Crystal Palace USA supporters).
Saturday
FA Cup Third Round. I do not know of a more interesting competition besides the FA Cup. It pits the minnows of the lower leagues against some of the big boys. It separates those who have heart from those who are just going through the motions. It is the great equalizer and my this weekend no exception.
Third Round, of course, is when the Premiership squads start playing. This is when you get to see sides like Torquay taking on Everton and the like. Well this year I believe Torquay played Brighton Hove Albion but it could have been Everton on any other day.
So Saturday brings us the glory of mighty Reading taking on the minnows, now known as Liverpool. It was really a lopsided draw in my opinion, now I didn't discount the Scousers but This. Is. READING! It was good to see Vinny out for a bit, plus he had a beautiful winterized Reading team anorak to fight off the cold and protect his wallet.
Let's just say it was a just score line and leave it at that.
Saturday Night (Station Debut)
WELL first of all I would like to thank all my football friends that braved the sub-zero temps and joined me at the Sidebar. It was really wonderful to see all of you out there. Seriously thank you from the bottom of my heart and I do hope you all enjoyed the show.
For those that missed, let's just say it was a good debut. From what I hear, many enjoyed it. GrumpyGooner was even impressed, which is a huge compliment coming from him.
I was getting stick all night from ScouseDrummer for wearing my Arsenal top, since we both promised not to wear kits on stage. I promised that I wouldn't and I had my Who the Fuck are Man United, shirt on underneath, complements of BayernMunich.
When we hopped on the stage, I pulled off my kit as promised. ScouseDrummer on cue started singing very quietly, Who the Fuck are Man United, which made me start in on full chorus.
The singer thrusts the mic in my face, cause I had half forgotten about the mic on stage for me and I was still in the midst of strapping my bass on. All I can say is that I was ready to go now. From the crowd came a shout from the Sherrif to shut the fuck up or something of that sort.
Like I said, it was a good show.
Sunday more FA Cup
I had left out early Saturday evening/Sunday morning after the show. I am not really a hang out person unless there is some football on the television. Plus I had still been feeling rather under the weather from the New Year's cold that was bogging me down.
I woke up four hours later and found myself at the pub staring at an HD feed of MancScum discussing the previous night with HalfArseDean. Must I say, this was a very nice Sunday treat. Leeds, which I am not a big fan of either, taking it to those gits. It was a thoroughly impressive showing and to watch old Fergie's head explode was an even better treat.
I spent the better half of the match chatting with HalfArseDean and trying to help LittleSister do a crossword. ChelskiGirl came in and joined us a bit later as well, let's just say all had a bit of a laugh at the Manc's expense.
My thing is, I want to see some of the CCTV feeds from the streets of Manchester. I know there had to be some running battles. Come on, Leeds v United, classic.
So the real match's time was upon us. Some of the usual suspects strolled in at their leisure. GrumpyGooner, quite a bit better than the last weekend. LilBlondieGooner still with her arm in a sling. So like I said, nothing unusual.
To my surprise though, Jazz pops in, without a jacket, walks over to the bar and orders a Stella from Irish. What is this, a New Year's miracle? GrumpyGooner and I get a few jibes in about Leeds on him, as we all settled in for a heart stopping match.
All I am going to say is that the Arsenal were very lucky to come out of this. They really need to do themselves a little better in the favor department. I know someone might nail me on my subject verb agreements above but it's my blog and I can be ungrammatical if I want to.
Monday the unexpected.
First day back to work. That's not what was interesting.
What was interesting is that I got a message from one of Pretzel's armed forces mates. He was looking him up and stumbled across the blog. He was unaware of what had happened and contacted me to get some details. It made me feel good to give him what I knew and that somewhere a interweb spider has linked me to one of the nicest and coolest people that I have had the pleasure of meeting and then giving me a way to share that information with others.
It also made me think about how temporal everything is in this world. I don't mean to sound cliche but sometimes you must seize the moment without regrets.
Live your life as you will not have any other.
or in my usual tongue...
TAKE THE FUCKING SHOT! BLOODY FUCKING HELL!
~LeChat
14 December 2009
Liverpool Away
What a glorious weekend! I will admit my memory of certain said events have faded due to the Sunday Funday Good Luck Day of events that transpired. However I believe I should keep this in some kind of chronological format.
Saturday
I found myself putting up the lights for Christmas, one of my least favorite activities. I really don't see much point in it anymore, they're just stupid little lights. Maybe it is others that find this to be of some enjoyment, personally I feel it's an act of futility.
However, the fact of the matter is that I need to play nice to keep a roof over my head and not pay rent. So, my Saturday was to be spent putting up these bloody lights and sitting around in my room playing video games.
Yes, this was my big plan. I am not that interesting of a person. Give me a web connection and a fast computer and I will hole up for days living off of microwave meals, coffee and other refreshing beverages.
Fine, I will leave out for some Chick-fil-a or to get more beer/rum/grey goose.
I am about to settle in and then I get the miracle text -
(by the way I apparently can't spell miracle correctly in 3 tries)
My interest is peaked. I realized I hadn't looked at any scores at this time. I had just got in from hanging the lights and was just settling down in my chair for a day of gaming fun.
I hop on the laptop, click click click, Guardian football scores.
CONFIRMED! Chelski was bottling it big time against Everton. Which serves ChelskiGirl right for going to London and seeing Madness.
There is a GOD and he/she/it loves the Arsenal.
I dropped whatever it was that I was planning, put my shoes, coat and gloves back on and headed towards the promised land, or as I call it the pub.
All I can say is that I made it to the pub in record time. Schumacher would have been proud. I walked in just as the second half was starting and IrishDave is giving it up big time to the ChelskiBoys. I got a few glaring but welcoming nods and I think someone may have told me to go home. I just smiled and found a spot to watch the dismantling of the glorious Chelski at the hands of a mid-table Everton.
Chelski scores one shortly into the second. The Boys were doing their little dance and song. I quietly vowed to myself not to come down for any more Chelski games, since it must be me who is giving them luck.
At this point in time, I am figuring this will just end up being another shit weekend. I got my hopes up only to have them shattered, once again. Then in the glory of a once most hated and now semi-liked striker who shall go by the name of SAHA. Saha salvation is now upon us in 4 minutes.
Such harsh words. I, however, was more than content with the draw. I couldn't help but not wipe the Chesire grin off my face. The ChelskiBoys for the most part consigned themselves to the result as we all focused on bewitching the MancScum.
Word around the pub about this time is that Wolves had stuffed Scum, 1-Nil. ManShitty, which had a small vocal crowd in the back section had also drawn to Bolton.
Quick note: There was a random Scum supporter. I hadn't really been paying attention but assumed he was ManShitty from the bluish colour of his kit. He mentioned something about covering it up. I looked at him after he had pulled his jacket closed and said something to the effect of Bolton being a tough team.
He chuckled nervously and said "OH, no, we lost to Wolves," then showed me the badge.
I laughed, "Ha! Fucking scum deserved it."
We spoke a little bit about league positions and then he had to leave. I took the table he was sitting at, just to have a good view of the televisions and optimum abuse hurling positioning.
There was actually a good number of United supporters. HalfArseDean and I were making comments how the one guy looked like the blonde kid from the Karate Kid movie. This led to several movie quotes between the two of us and the Sheriff.
Villa go up with the Agbonlahor strike and I kid you not, more than half the pub started cheering. However, it was a nervous second half. MancScum has the ability to turn a 1-nil first half into a 1-4 second half rather quickly or as ChelskiGirl put it, "London is waiting with baited breath... VillaVillaVilla."
To add to my mood, the fat C*nt Rooney gets a card for diving. I felt like I was in an alternate universe. I think everyone did, about fucking time.
The second half seemed to drag on forever and 3 days. When it was all said and done and the final whistle was blown, the scoreline stood. One Nil to the Villa!
I found the exit, as I had plenty to do and didn't want to kill my bank account before the Scouser match on Sunday.
SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY!
Live at the pub, Thames Street, Baltimore.
In this corner, wearing the red. The Red tide of money snatching, granny mugging, hubcap robbing, ice pick striking northern bastards.... SCOUSERS!
In the opposite corner, wearing the away blue. The youthful and rather short side, visiting from the beautiful Ashburton Grove, North London... The Royal ARSENAL!
For those who don't know, well if you are reading this, you probably do know, that Gunner-Scouse fixtures are a big deal, no matter when they come on the calendar. They are akin to any of the big 4 meetings, more respectful and sporting than say a Gunner-MancScum fixture and less one-sided than Gunner-Scum fixtures.
Ahh, I remember the snatching the league at Anfield, 1989.
10 minutes for you to enjoy. A moment I can relive over and over.
Thank GOD for YouTube, seriously.
I appeared at the pub early, to get some breakfast in and find a good seat, as I expected the Red Scouse Tide to takeover the pub, as usual. HalfArseDean had beaten me there and I settled down at the booth with him.
It was actually quite quiet for some time. WestsideScouser came in shortly after and grabbed the small table where he's usually sitting. We all joked around for a bit, no one really expecting anything to happen.
WestsideScouser was telling us about one of the ChelskiBoys that he's good friends with. Apparently, he takes quite some time getting all primmed up before he comes out. I vow to start calling him Girlfriend from now on.
WestsideScouser agrees that it is spot on. Girlfriend shows up about 10 minutes after, and is greeted by his new nickname, taking it in stride like a good woman should.
He's always quick on the quips anyways so he gives it as much as he takes it. Hmm, talking about a ChelskiBoy like that makes me feel kind of gross.
Gooners started coming in about 30 minutes before kick off, Scousers seemed to be running late. It was really odd. However, the usuals were in place. GrumpyGooner, HalfArseDean, LilBlondieGooner, Nightcaller, Bistroboys(Yes, some have come back and I know they probably hate that I refer to them that way but I never have been to the Bistro, they have) and several others.
A good Arsenal showing I must say. We understand the importance of every point at this point in the season. It has come to a do or die situation and with the results from Saturday, now we have the drivers seat.
Scousers were still a little thin. A Certain Scouser hadn't even showed up. The Librarian had sent out a text with no response. MancDJ had also popped in looking for her as well. Time was counting down and I have to admit I was a bit surprised she hadn't shown up, so I called.
No answer. Very odd but I figured she was being her usual self, whatever that is. I swear the girl has multiple personality disorder but I'm going to leave it at that. I think she would swear to it as well.
All in all it was a decent game, with a semi-decent gathering. I got really angered by the first Scouse goal and paced all over the place during the half-time break. I knew the weekend had gone too well and the Arsenal had bottled it, like everyone else.
Then lo and behold, like the savior he did not wish to become, Glen Johnson (own goal). Followed by the beauty and precision of a finely tuned automobile, er... Russian fashion designer, Yes! Little Arshavin puts in the most beautiful goal that I have witnessed in ages.
Overjoyed does not describe the feelings that yours truly had at the moment. HalfArseDean was there to whisper "Calm down, Calm down," to me just because it wasn't over yet. Let's just see it was a good finish.
2 crucial goals at Anfield, 20 years and 6 1/2 months later.
After the match, most of the crowd dispersed. Happy Gooners, disappointed Scousers and the few random usuals hanging about. MiniMourhino, Sheffield, ACMilan, LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and myself hung around for a bit. DoratheExplorer joined us for a bit, which is always a fun time.
NightCaller and I decided to give ScouseDrummer some abuse. I dialed his number and before a word could be spoken he answered. FUCK OFF!
You got to love your mates, even if they are Scouse.
Our little crowd, with the encouragement of Irish started doing football chants during the Ravens game. It was pretty hilarious. The normals who had come in, either laughed or looked in pure shock at us. Someone commented "Isn't their game over?", which was promptly followed by It's ARSELOBA LALALALALA!
Some abuse was hurled around and a lot of laughter. One couple after a rather course round of abuse between myself and Irish decided they had enough, quickly paid their tab and fucked off. We all knew it was a small victory and laughed amongst ourselves.
All good things must come to an end. I agreed to take NightCaller and LilBlondieGooner up to NightCaller's restaurant. LilBlondie and I sat and ate some food that NightCaller had prepared for us. Good times!
By the way, spot on suggestion on the meal NightCaller! Cheers!
I headed back to my hovel, satiated and in a brilliant mood. A great weekend with good mates and wonderful results all around.
It's AR-SE-LO-BA LALALALALALA! ARSELOBA FC! The greatest team that no one has ever seen!
~LeChat
Saturday
I found myself putting up the lights for Christmas, one of my least favorite activities. I really don't see much point in it anymore, they're just stupid little lights. Maybe it is others that find this to be of some enjoyment, personally I feel it's an act of futility.
However, the fact of the matter is that I need to play nice to keep a roof over my head and not pay rent. So, my Saturday was to be spent putting up these bloody lights and sitting around in my room playing video games.
Yes, this was my big plan. I am not that interesting of a person. Give me a web connection and a fast computer and I will hole up for days living off of microwave meals, coffee and other refreshing beverages.
Fine, I will leave out for some Chick-fil-a or to get more beer/rum/grey goose.
I am about to settle in and then I get the miracle text -
(by the way I apparently can't spell miracle correctly in 3 tries)
10.56AM ChelskiGirl: Well this isn't good. Angry Chelsea fans.
My interest is peaked. I realized I hadn't looked at any scores at this time. I had just got in from hanging the lights and was just settling down in my chair for a day of gaming fun.
10.57AM LeChat: Oh Yah?
I hop on the laptop, click click click, Guardian football scores.
CONFIRMED! Chelski was bottling it big time against Everton. Which serves ChelskiGirl right for going to London and seeing Madness.
There is a GOD and he/she/it loves the Arsenal.
I dropped whatever it was that I was planning, put my shoes, coat and gloves back on and headed towards the promised land, or as I call it the pub.
11.08AM ChelskiGirl: Sad quiet and grunting
All I can say is that I made it to the pub in record time. Schumacher would have been proud. I walked in just as the second half was starting and IrishDave is giving it up big time to the ChelskiBoys. I got a few glaring but welcoming nods and I think someone may have told me to go home. I just smiled and found a spot to watch the dismantling of the glorious Chelski at the hands of a mid-table Everton.
11.18AM LeChat: hehe
Chelski scores one shortly into the second. The Boys were doing their little dance and song. I quietly vowed to myself not to come down for any more Chelski games, since it must be me who is giving them luck.
11.22AM ChelskiGirl: Better now!
At this point in time, I am figuring this will just end up being another shit weekend. I got my hopes up only to have them shattered, once again. Then in the glory of a once most hated and now semi-liked striker who shall go by the name of SAHA. Saha salvation is now upon us in 4 minutes.
11.26AM LeChat: Yes much better
11.27AM ChelskiGirl: Fuck you
Such harsh words. I, however, was more than content with the draw. I couldn't help but not wipe the Chesire grin off my face. The ChelskiBoys for the most part consigned themselves to the result as we all focused on bewitching the MancScum.
Word around the pub about this time is that Wolves had stuffed Scum, 1-Nil. ManShitty, which had a small vocal crowd in the back section had also drawn to Bolton.
Quick note: There was a random Scum supporter. I hadn't really been paying attention but assumed he was ManShitty from the bluish colour of his kit. He mentioned something about covering it up. I looked at him after he had pulled his jacket closed and said something to the effect of Bolton being a tough team.
He chuckled nervously and said "OH, no, we lost to Wolves," then showed me the badge.
I laughed, "Ha! Fucking scum deserved it."
We spoke a little bit about league positions and then he had to leave. I took the table he was sitting at, just to have a good view of the televisions and optimum abuse hurling positioning.
There was actually a good number of United supporters. HalfArseDean and I were making comments how the one guy looked like the blonde kid from the Karate Kid movie. This led to several movie quotes between the two of us and the Sheriff.
Villa go up with the Agbonlahor strike and I kid you not, more than half the pub started cheering. However, it was a nervous second half. MancScum has the ability to turn a 1-nil first half into a 1-4 second half rather quickly or as ChelskiGirl put it, "London is waiting with baited breath... VillaVillaVilla."
To add to my mood, the fat C*nt Rooney gets a card for diving. I felt like I was in an alternate universe. I think everyone did, about fucking time.
The second half seemed to drag on forever and 3 days. When it was all said and done and the final whistle was blown, the scoreline stood. One Nil to the Villa!
I found the exit, as I had plenty to do and didn't want to kill my bank account before the Scouser match on Sunday.
SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY!
Live at the pub, Thames Street, Baltimore.
In this corner, wearing the red. The Red tide of money snatching, granny mugging, hubcap robbing, ice pick striking northern bastards.... SCOUSERS!
In the opposite corner, wearing the away blue. The youthful and rather short side, visiting from the beautiful Ashburton Grove, North London... The Royal ARSENAL!
For those who don't know, well if you are reading this, you probably do know, that Gunner-Scouse fixtures are a big deal, no matter when they come on the calendar. They are akin to any of the big 4 meetings, more respectful and sporting than say a Gunner-MancScum fixture and less one-sided than Gunner-Scum fixtures.
Ahh, I remember the snatching the league at Anfield, 1989.
10 minutes for you to enjoy. A moment I can relive over and over.
Thank GOD for YouTube, seriously.
I appeared at the pub early, to get some breakfast in and find a good seat, as I expected the Red Scouse Tide to takeover the pub, as usual. HalfArseDean had beaten me there and I settled down at the booth with him.
It was actually quite quiet for some time. WestsideScouser came in shortly after and grabbed the small table where he's usually sitting. We all joked around for a bit, no one really expecting anything to happen.
WestsideScouser was telling us about one of the ChelskiBoys that he's good friends with. Apparently, he takes quite some time getting all primmed up before he comes out. I vow to start calling him Girlfriend from now on.
WestsideScouser agrees that it is spot on. Girlfriend shows up about 10 minutes after, and is greeted by his new nickname, taking it in stride like a good woman should.
He's always quick on the quips anyways so he gives it as much as he takes it. Hmm, talking about a ChelskiBoy like that makes me feel kind of gross.
Gooners started coming in about 30 minutes before kick off, Scousers seemed to be running late. It was really odd. However, the usuals were in place. GrumpyGooner, HalfArseDean, LilBlondieGooner, Nightcaller, Bistroboys(Yes, some have come back and I know they probably hate that I refer to them that way but I never have been to the Bistro, they have) and several others.
A good Arsenal showing I must say. We understand the importance of every point at this point in the season. It has come to a do or die situation and with the results from Saturday, now we have the drivers seat.
Scousers were still a little thin. A Certain Scouser hadn't even showed up. The Librarian had sent out a text with no response. MancDJ had also popped in looking for her as well. Time was counting down and I have to admit I was a bit surprised she hadn't shown up, so I called.
No answer. Very odd but I figured she was being her usual self, whatever that is. I swear the girl has multiple personality disorder but I'm going to leave it at that. I think she would swear to it as well.
All in all it was a decent game, with a semi-decent gathering. I got really angered by the first Scouse goal and paced all over the place during the half-time break. I knew the weekend had gone too well and the Arsenal had bottled it, like everyone else.
Then lo and behold, like the savior he did not wish to become, Glen Johnson (own goal). Followed by the beauty and precision of a finely tuned automobile, er... Russian fashion designer, Yes! Little Arshavin puts in the most beautiful goal that I have witnessed in ages.
Overjoyed does not describe the feelings that yours truly had at the moment. HalfArseDean was there to whisper "Calm down, Calm down," to me just because it wasn't over yet. Let's just see it was a good finish.
2 crucial goals at Anfield, 20 years and 6 1/2 months later.
After the match, most of the crowd dispersed. Happy Gooners, disappointed Scousers and the few random usuals hanging about. MiniMourhino, Sheffield, ACMilan, LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and myself hung around for a bit. DoratheExplorer joined us for a bit, which is always a fun time.
NightCaller and I decided to give ScouseDrummer some abuse. I dialed his number and before a word could be spoken he answered. FUCK OFF!
You got to love your mates, even if they are Scouse.
Our little crowd, with the encouragement of Irish started doing football chants during the Ravens game. It was pretty hilarious. The normals who had come in, either laughed or looked in pure shock at us. Someone commented "Isn't their game over?", which was promptly followed by It's ARSELOBA LALALALALA!
Some abuse was hurled around and a lot of laughter. One couple after a rather course round of abuse between myself and Irish decided they had enough, quickly paid their tab and fucked off. We all knew it was a small victory and laughed amongst ourselves.
All good things must come to an end. I agreed to take NightCaller and LilBlondieGooner up to NightCaller's restaurant. LilBlondie and I sat and ate some food that NightCaller had prepared for us. Good times!
By the way, spot on suggestion on the meal NightCaller! Cheers!
I headed back to my hovel, satiated and in a brilliant mood. A great weekend with good mates and wonderful results all around.
It's AR-SE-LO-BA LALALALALALA! ARSELOBA FC! The greatest team that no one has ever seen!
~LeChat
05 October 2009
Blackburn HOME (Mr. Wenger's 13th anniversary)
Where to begin, where to begin?
A little background for those who don't know.
Mr. Wenger began his Arsenal career v. Blackburn at home.
Mr. Wenger celebrates his anniversary v. Blackburn at home.
Mr. LeChat fondly remembers a George Graham led Arsenal kicking the yarbels out of same said club at home. (little fuzzy on details, not even sure if it was a league game the more I think about it.)
Blackburn brings me the happy.
Friday Evening
...began with a call from Sheffield. Calls from Sheffield on a Friday usually start out with, "let's have a pint and call it an early evening." However, he and I both know that is not the way it ends, ever. I took a rain check and headed home for a restart in the morning.
SATURDAY
Ahhh the Fun Festival. Nothing butters up your day as a million lost souls looking for worthless trinkets sold by some vendors. There is only one, well a few good things about the Fun Festival. PIT BEEF being the first and second.
The local crew were around, as there weren't many interesting games on in the morning. It started off with just myself, MiniMourinho and ChelskiGirl. We demanded the Burnley game but were given Scum v. Bolton, which was only down to Scum being near the top of the table. (I refuse to acknowledge their place in the league)
I also believe Irish was trying to make me suffer, cause he did ask me which game for the big screen. Bastard.
A Birmingham supporter came in but that didn't persuade him any either. Irish told him the game was upstairs, so he went on up. We all chuckled about it. Honestly, I don't think anyone of the three of us cared which match was on, just nice to sit with old friends talking about inane things.
11AM rolls around and it was decided that the time was nigh for PIT BEEF. Step outside and standing on the curb is Sheffield with Brummie. Brummie was digging into some Pad Thai she got from one of the booths and Sheffield had already began the PIT BEEF mission. Needless to say ChelskiGirl and I hit up the first PIT BEEF stand we saw. Sheffield had a secret spot, that he waited until after we had gotten ours and then decides to go there. Bastard.
It did not matter. There was PIT BEEF and it was GOOD.
Back at the pub, MiniMourinho decided to call it early and jostled off to home. The rest of the crew stuck about for the MancScum match. MancSheriff shows up but was really the only one to actually show up for the screening. He had been up the street and walked down.
I have to say, Sunderland put on a great show for the first half. ChelskiGirl is hungry and decides Pad Thai sounds good. I agree to share it, just because neither one of us are big eaters but enjoy a good meal. Brummie's Pad Thai had looked so delicious as well. I believe Sheffield might have also taken a bite or two. Community eating while watching MancScum drop points to Sunderland.
AHHHHH Saturday.
SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY the main event. 830AM
Let's just say I won't discuss my Saturday evening but I had the fond memory of being reminded that I was still suffering from a mild chest cold. Sleep what is that thing you call sleep. Half-a-dozen Carlsbergs... BAD IDEA.
However, I awaken to nice crisp, not quite Autumn day. It was beautiful. The sun was shining. It was nice light jacket weather. I woke up at 630 or so... popped my Pandora on the laptop -Ska/Dirty Reggae station, which decided to play like a dozen of my favorite songs in a row... drive down to the point in 15 minutes... find parking at the corner of Wolfe and Aliceanna (free!)... walk to the pub, whistle happy song!
HalfArseDean was at the pub, apparently he was there on Saturday as well but was across the street when I was leaving. Anyways, Irish starts trying to work his wit against me but I pull out my rapier.. touche touche... I score a few good ones.
The room starts to fill. GrumpyGooner has a seat next to me and HalfArseDean. ArseSaintNick rolls in, late as usual. Half way through the first half LilBlondieGooner is texting me like crazy about wanting to miss work. She actually sneaks down and catches the end of the half before running out the door.
A Certain Scouser was trying to get me to save some seats for her and her friend. However I sent her a text back saying that all the seats were nicked by Scousers. I am sure she found that amusing. Anyways the surge of non-Arsenal red was penetrated by the ever jovial Chelski bunch.
And were they penetrated!
Highlight reel moment: ScouseGrubs was standing in the corner, being mellow, as usual. The Chelski bunch are singing One man went to Mo and ScouseGrubs, like a man possessed, leaps over a table, knocks over like 10 people and starts in with You Ain't Got No History. The next thing I notice the pub was at a deafening pitch; Scousers, Chelski trying to out sing each other.
THIS. IS. FOOTBALL.
ScouseGrubs turns around with his normal half smiling look, so I give him a guyshake, you know the half hug handshake. He departed along with most of the others. A Certain Scouser stuck around with a pouty face, tried to cheer her up a little bit but I think the under-performance of her club had her down.
By the way, I am still taking offers on a proper Red & White shirt.
MiniMourinho was his old self, which was good to see. Overall the Sunday afternoon was a good time. The crew decided to try and stick around for the American game, which was fun for about 10 minutes.
There were a couple of people that came into the pub from the Fun Fest to watch the game. We let them come to the understanding that this was a proper football pub. A few choruses of some delightful songs began with You Fill Up My Senses, followed by the ARSELOBA melodies. Irish began doing a jig. Some of the outsiders paid their tab and left quickly thereafter.
Mission Accomplished.
If your friends can't sing and if they don't sing then they're no friends of mine!
~LeChat
A little background for those who don't know.
Mr. Wenger began his Arsenal career v. Blackburn at home.
Mr. Wenger celebrates his anniversary v. Blackburn at home.
Mr. LeChat fondly remembers a George Graham led Arsenal kicking the yarbels out of same said club at home. (little fuzzy on details, not even sure if it was a league game the more I think about it.)
Blackburn brings me the happy.
Friday Evening
...began with a call from Sheffield. Calls from Sheffield on a Friday usually start out with, "let's have a pint and call it an early evening." However, he and I both know that is not the way it ends, ever. I took a rain check and headed home for a restart in the morning.
SATURDAY
Ahhh the Fun Festival. Nothing butters up your day as a million lost souls looking for worthless trinkets sold by some vendors. There is only one, well a few good things about the Fun Festival. PIT BEEF being the first and second.
The local crew were around, as there weren't many interesting games on in the morning. It started off with just myself, MiniMourinho and ChelskiGirl. We demanded the Burnley game but were given Scum v. Bolton, which was only down to Scum being near the top of the table. (I refuse to acknowledge their place in the league)
I also believe Irish was trying to make me suffer, cause he did ask me which game for the big screen. Bastard.
A Birmingham supporter came in but that didn't persuade him any either. Irish told him the game was upstairs, so he went on up. We all chuckled about it. Honestly, I don't think anyone of the three of us cared which match was on, just nice to sit with old friends talking about inane things.
11AM rolls around and it was decided that the time was nigh for PIT BEEF. Step outside and standing on the curb is Sheffield with Brummie. Brummie was digging into some Pad Thai she got from one of the booths and Sheffield had already began the PIT BEEF mission. Needless to say ChelskiGirl and I hit up the first PIT BEEF stand we saw. Sheffield had a secret spot, that he waited until after we had gotten ours and then decides to go there. Bastard.
It did not matter. There was PIT BEEF and it was GOOD.
Back at the pub, MiniMourinho decided to call it early and jostled off to home. The rest of the crew stuck about for the MancScum match. MancSheriff shows up but was really the only one to actually show up for the screening. He had been up the street and walked down.
I have to say, Sunderland put on a great show for the first half. ChelskiGirl is hungry and decides Pad Thai sounds good. I agree to share it, just because neither one of us are big eaters but enjoy a good meal. Brummie's Pad Thai had looked so delicious as well. I believe Sheffield might have also taken a bite or two. Community eating while watching MancScum drop points to Sunderland.
AHHHHH Saturday.
SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY the main event. 830AM
Let's just say I won't discuss my Saturday evening but I had the fond memory of being reminded that I was still suffering from a mild chest cold. Sleep what is that thing you call sleep. Half-a-dozen Carlsbergs... BAD IDEA.
However, I awaken to nice crisp, not quite Autumn day. It was beautiful. The sun was shining. It was nice light jacket weather. I woke up at 630 or so... popped my Pandora on the laptop -Ska/Dirty Reggae station, which decided to play like a dozen of my favorite songs in a row... drive down to the point in 15 minutes... find parking at the corner of Wolfe and Aliceanna (free!)... walk to the pub, whistle happy song!
HalfArseDean was at the pub, apparently he was there on Saturday as well but was across the street when I was leaving. Anyways, Irish starts trying to work his wit against me but I pull out my rapier.. touche touche... I score a few good ones.
The room starts to fill. GrumpyGooner has a seat next to me and HalfArseDean. ArseSaintNick rolls in, late as usual. Half way through the first half LilBlondieGooner is texting me like crazy about wanting to miss work. She actually sneaks down and catches the end of the half before running out the door.
A Certain Scouser was trying to get me to save some seats for her and her friend. However I sent her a text back saying that all the seats were nicked by Scousers. I am sure she found that amusing. Anyways the surge of non-Arsenal red was penetrated by the ever jovial Chelski bunch.
And were they penetrated!
Highlight reel moment: ScouseGrubs was standing in the corner, being mellow, as usual. The Chelski bunch are singing One man went to Mo and ScouseGrubs, like a man possessed, leaps over a table, knocks over like 10 people and starts in with You Ain't Got No History. The next thing I notice the pub was at a deafening pitch; Scousers, Chelski trying to out sing each other.
THIS. IS. FOOTBALL.
ScouseGrubs turns around with his normal half smiling look, so I give him a guyshake, you know the half hug handshake. He departed along with most of the others. A Certain Scouser stuck around with a pouty face, tried to cheer her up a little bit but I think the under-performance of her club had her down.
By the way, I am still taking offers on a proper Red & White shirt.
MiniMourinho was his old self, which was good to see. Overall the Sunday afternoon was a good time. The crew decided to try and stick around for the American game, which was fun for about 10 minutes.
There were a couple of people that came into the pub from the Fun Fest to watch the game. We let them come to the understanding that this was a proper football pub. A few choruses of some delightful songs began with You Fill Up My Senses, followed by the ARSELOBA melodies. Irish began doing a jig. Some of the outsiders paid their tab and left quickly thereafter.
Mission Accomplished.
If your friends can't sing and if they don't sing then they're no friends of mine!
~LeChat
21 September 2009
WIGAN PIER
Yes apparently The Arsenal know the way. However, it was a home game. DAMN!
Please excuse me, I am having a hard time remembering things right now. Jonfromnextdoor decided to invite me out to have some beers, which led us around the corner to Murphy's and running into P himself. Many shots were had but that is today and I'm not going to write about today.
Saturday was an ok day. I started they day out early, as usual and ran into Shane who shall remain nicknameless, simply because Shane is cool and has a bad ass name, for a scouse loving Irishman.
About halfway through Burnley Sunderland, ArseSaintNick and one of the Manc loving African contingent come in. They were a little loopy to begin with and started on the Heineken. A few after that, Floss and one of the other guys come in. I must admit, those guys are all major funny.
The story goes, 3 of them (minus Floss) were up watching Kenyan rugby all night long and it was someone's birthday as well or something like that. ArseSaintNick explained that a lot of the songs they were singing the other week were actually rugby songs. Then he broke into the chorus of -
I'm in love with the girl next door..... SMELL MY FINGERS!
I still don't know why I find that funny but it just is. ArseSaintNick and I had quite a long conversation about Tanzania and Kenya which was pretty interesting in itself. But his shining moment was when a replay was being played about 10 minutes after the original Burnley goal was scored.
ArseSaintNick jumps up all excited and is screaming about it. Shane keeps repeating the words "Replay, Replay, Replay." And poor HalfArseDean, who was sitting on the other side of Shane had this look of pure confusion. I couldn't help but just to silently laugh about the whole scene.
It took ArseSaintNick about 5 minutes to realize that it wasn't another goal that looked just like the one before. Of course I get blamed for not telling him it was a replay and Shane sits silently chuckling. Good times.
The Arsenal game came on and the pub started to fill up a bit more. Loudmouth showed up but for once, I WILL ADMIT, as well ArseSaintNick attest to, he was actually not too bad this week. He actually made sense. It was a miracle.
LilBlondieGooner made sure she pointed it out that I actually agreed with something that LoudMouthGooner said. She also pointed out that I still haven't come up with a good name for her boyfriend, which I really do need to do. He's a good guy with a broken hand. Apparently he tripped over the cat. HAHA ONE FOR CAT KIND!
Saturday Night
Texting about crappy bands at shows is funny.
Sending facebook messages with Jonfromnextdoor to ChelskiGirl, since she is in London is even funnier.
Getting text from ChelskiGirl about how homesick she is makes me feel bad.
Receiving comments back on facebook about ChelskiGirl wanting to kick Jonfromnextdoor's ass... PRICELESS!
Sunday.... Scum-Shitty
This is was an all time classic game. I really enjoyed it. Sheffield came down and met me, so we sang You Fill Up My Senses at least once. I decided to adjourn to upstairs next door, Jonfromnextdoor was working the bar and the pub was actually crowded with Shitty and Scum supporters.
I will admit. I did have one of the greatest breakfast burritos I have ever had. It was nice to sit next door. It was like having a private VIP view of one of the best matches that I have seen in a long time. I am still trying to get one of those Old Trafford Watches.
Poor, poor ACMilan. He got stuck in a small corner of the pub with a tiny television. It does stink when there is a big derby playing and the pub is sardined but he did get a telly after a bit of bribery, coercion and promises only an Italian football supporter would give.
We all hung around for the true Scum to be dismantled by the BlueScum. The Chelski boys didn't have as great of a showing...they usually do.
Overall Sheffield and I were our usual selves.
Saying all the wrong things at all the right times.
~LeChat
(addendum)
2010WC plans are being made. Barca stopped by, which is always good to see her, and made promises to coordinate. I really do need to be a better at staying in contact with people.
Please excuse me, I am having a hard time remembering things right now. Jonfromnextdoor decided to invite me out to have some beers, which led us around the corner to Murphy's and running into P himself. Many shots were had but that is today and I'm not going to write about today.
Saturday was an ok day. I started they day out early, as usual and ran into Shane who shall remain nicknameless, simply because Shane is cool and has a bad ass name, for a scouse loving Irishman.
About halfway through Burnley Sunderland, ArseSaintNick and one of the Manc loving African contingent come in. They were a little loopy to begin with and started on the Heineken. A few after that, Floss and one of the other guys come in. I must admit, those guys are all major funny.
The story goes, 3 of them (minus Floss) were up watching Kenyan rugby all night long and it was someone's birthday as well or something like that. ArseSaintNick explained that a lot of the songs they were singing the other week were actually rugby songs. Then he broke into the chorus of -
I'm in love with the girl next door..... SMELL MY FINGERS!
I still don't know why I find that funny but it just is. ArseSaintNick and I had quite a long conversation about Tanzania and Kenya which was pretty interesting in itself. But his shining moment was when a replay was being played about 10 minutes after the original Burnley goal was scored.
ArseSaintNick jumps up all excited and is screaming about it. Shane keeps repeating the words "Replay, Replay, Replay." And poor HalfArseDean, who was sitting on the other side of Shane had this look of pure confusion. I couldn't help but just to silently laugh about the whole scene.
It took ArseSaintNick about 5 minutes to realize that it wasn't another goal that looked just like the one before. Of course I get blamed for not telling him it was a replay and Shane sits silently chuckling. Good times.
The Arsenal game came on and the pub started to fill up a bit more. Loudmouth showed up but for once, I WILL ADMIT, as well ArseSaintNick attest to, he was actually not too bad this week. He actually made sense. It was a miracle.
LilBlondieGooner made sure she pointed it out that I actually agreed with something that LoudMouthGooner said. She also pointed out that I still haven't come up with a good name for her boyfriend, which I really do need to do. He's a good guy with a broken hand. Apparently he tripped over the cat. HAHA ONE FOR CAT KIND!
Saturday Night
Texting about crappy bands at shows is funny.
Sending facebook messages with Jonfromnextdoor to ChelskiGirl, since she is in London is even funnier.
Getting text from ChelskiGirl about how homesick she is makes me feel bad.
Receiving comments back on facebook about ChelskiGirl wanting to kick Jonfromnextdoor's ass... PRICELESS!
Sunday.... Scum-Shitty
This is was an all time classic game. I really enjoyed it. Sheffield came down and met me, so we sang You Fill Up My Senses at least once. I decided to adjourn to upstairs next door, Jonfromnextdoor was working the bar and the pub was actually crowded with Shitty and Scum supporters.
I will admit. I did have one of the greatest breakfast burritos I have ever had. It was nice to sit next door. It was like having a private VIP view of one of the best matches that I have seen in a long time. I am still trying to get one of those Old Trafford Watches.
Poor, poor ACMilan. He got stuck in a small corner of the pub with a tiny television. It does stink when there is a big derby playing and the pub is sardined but he did get a telly after a bit of bribery, coercion and promises only an Italian football supporter would give.
We all hung around for the true Scum to be dismantled by the BlueScum. The Chelski boys didn't have as great of a showing...they usually do.
Overall Sheffield and I were our usual selves.
Saying all the wrong things at all the right times.
~LeChat
(addendum)
2010WC plans are being made. Barca stopped by, which is always good to see her, and made promises to coordinate. I really do need to be a better at staying in contact with people.
31 August 2009
ManYoo Away (Thank God for...)
Let's just start this with...
WHAT THE BLOODY FAHKIN 'ELL!?!
and to all my friends who believe it doesn't matter, it's only one game, and various other "soothing" remarks... yah, you all get my favorite phrase!
Ok quick recap for those who couldn't, didn't or afraid of joining me at the pub. No offense to you lot, I don't make judgments. I just need to recap the day.
Friday evening, I decided to tuck in a bit early after remembering what happened to me on open weekend and the lack of fortitude my body has recently with the imbibing of alcoholic beverages. In short, I was in bed by 11PM. My plan was to make it to the pub by half-time on the Chelski game. I was hoping to witness the phenomena of what is called Burnley.
Saturday morning. 5AM...try and fall back asleep... 6AM try and fall back asleep... 7AM - fuck it, check email, check news, morning ritual, get down to pub by 8ish.
So far, ok but I should have been warned by the 5AM wake up for no real reason.
Mistake or Omen number 2, breaking with tradition, I listened to some NYHC (Sick of It ALL) on the way to the pub on the day of an Arsenal game. My usual musical foray on the drive is something English, preferably London based, no matter what genre.
I find parking with no major hassles, that's pretty standard fare at this hour in the morning. I lock the car up and my alarm starts going off.. click the button on my switchblade (VW key-thing) and nothing.. click it again and unlock the doors.. click it again to lock the doors... nothing... open the door, close it, click it again.. finally the proper acknowledgment of *beeepbeeepI'mLocked*.
I shake my head and walk on.
The pub was nicely crowded for an early match. Burnley, of course, did not surprise anyone. I shouldn't be too shocked but I was hoping for them to actually worry Chelski. Little to no luck on that one.
Chelski girl, who was sick, sent me a text, "...I would feel better if Chels would fucking score already!" They did, they did and they did shortly after.
The usual crowd was about and milling around during the day, many staying around through the mid-day Scouser match, awaiting the ManYoo-Arsenal tie.
Honestly though, there was a certain tension all day, at least on my part. I found myself sitting at the outdoor tables with Pretzels. Neither one of us were really interested in watching the Scousers and the pub was standing room only. SlainteLOSC stopped by and decided to give a lesson on bad words in French before heading off to the burger-wagon.
By the way, there is a great picture of Pretzels that I took with my phone. He has this big shit-eating grin staring at the screen.
Shortly before the main event, a lot of people started showing up. There ended up being a large African contigent about 60% MancScum and the rest Arsenal supporters. Which was interesting because shortly before they started showing up someone had mentioned earlier that the bistro had a rather non-diverse crowd.
Now that is not a big deal but it's kind of interesting how you get this huge cross section of people at the pub. That's one of my favorite things about football, the diversity of the supporters, players and teams. Each brings something different to the mix and it becomes this community, whether you love or hate your neighbor, you both speak a similar language.
I'll make quick mention of an instance at 2006 World Cup. There was the France - Brazil game. At least that is how I am recalling it currently. After the game, at one of the large tables we had people talking to each other, intermixing the languages (English, French, Spanish) and having a great time, just uniting over football. If you are wondering why Spanish, I think the Spanish speaking girls were in love with Kaka and who doesn't like Brazilian football.
It was a beautiful thing!
Back to Saturday 29 August 2009... now we have a full pub, United - Arsenal, an African contingent, and many onlookers (supporters of various other clubs, including my buddy ACMilan, the Chelski boys and Scousers)
The pub was filled with noise and singing... lots and lots of singing. The African contingent even came in with their own songs which were pretty interesting to say the least. When you add some of the football classics it became like a celebration.
It was so loud, at one point, MancKate had to put in ear plugs.
Arsenal was playing beautiful and United wasn't letting the game get out of hand. The sky was clear, birds were singing, bees were pollinating, One-Nil to the Arsenal and Who the Fuck is Man United had been sung and...
PENALTY!
My prediction was 2-1 and not naming the victor because it is hard to separate the two teams... but that call ruined my whole day.
2-1 is a good score. It usually means one team is good but the other was just better on that day. It's a respectable score but how you go about getting it should be respectable as well.
I know I have no reason to be on a high horse about taking advantage but Old Trafford has a way of brainwashing referees. It's not a conspiracy but answer me this, how come there is always at least 5-6 minutes at the end of the second half at Old Trafford? Everyone knows, don't pretend it doesn't exist. I'm also not going to mention the other dubious MancScum penalty that ended an Arsenal run.
In short, shattered was my good day. I tried to stay for the Italian Oscars but was so worn out and dejected. At least it wasn't as bad as 2006 World Cup, I can say that in reality. I had never been so sad at football, cheating Italians.
I said my good-byes and did the long drive home. I walked in, put my Ska station on Pandora and went to sleep for a couple hours before going for pizza. I get a message from ACMilan about the pub becoming a bit of a mess after I left.
After I had gone, the MancScum supporters from the African contingent started gloating about their win. I know they had a few drinks in them by that time but it doesn't excuse it. LilBlondeGooner and her man were there and took a great deal of the abuse. Completely unnecessary in my book but I didn't witness it. However I do trust the word of ACMilan on that one.
So the lesson for today... Most, not all but MOST ManYoo supporters really are scum.
I will officially make exception for a few that I've been close to over the years, as they are, in my opinion true supporters not only of their club but of football in general. Three in particular, I have been watching games with since 2003/4. GrumpyGooner mentioned that to me the other day.
A few bad apples can really spoil the bunch though. ManYoo seems to attract many bad apples unfortunately. At the end of the day, I say this as a supporter of the sport and nothing else, they are a good club with a lot of history.
Bottom line, when the two come together, Arsenal-ManYoo, it is always a good game.
Still annoyed.
~LeChat
Addendum - wanted to add this link from WDKF, nice to see a ManYoo supporter's perspective on the shit ejection of Wenger. It really was shit.
WHAT THE BLOODY FAHKIN 'ELL!?!
and to all my friends who believe it doesn't matter, it's only one game, and various other "soothing" remarks... yah, you all get my favorite phrase!
Ok quick recap for those who couldn't, didn't or afraid of joining me at the pub. No offense to you lot, I don't make judgments. I just need to recap the day.
Friday evening, I decided to tuck in a bit early after remembering what happened to me on open weekend and the lack of fortitude my body has recently with the imbibing of alcoholic beverages. In short, I was in bed by 11PM. My plan was to make it to the pub by half-time on the Chelski game. I was hoping to witness the phenomena of what is called Burnley.
Saturday morning. 5AM...try and fall back asleep... 6AM try and fall back asleep... 7AM - fuck it, check email, check news, morning ritual, get down to pub by 8ish.
So far, ok but I should have been warned by the 5AM wake up for no real reason.
Mistake or Omen number 2, breaking with tradition, I listened to some NYHC (Sick of It ALL) on the way to the pub on the day of an Arsenal game. My usual musical foray on the drive is something English, preferably London based, no matter what genre.
I find parking with no major hassles, that's pretty standard fare at this hour in the morning. I lock the car up and my alarm starts going off.. click the button on my switchblade (VW key-thing) and nothing.. click it again and unlock the doors.. click it again to lock the doors... nothing... open the door, close it, click it again.. finally the proper acknowledgment of *beeepbeeepI'mLocked*.
I shake my head and walk on.
The pub was nicely crowded for an early match. Burnley, of course, did not surprise anyone. I shouldn't be too shocked but I was hoping for them to actually worry Chelski. Little to no luck on that one.
Chelski girl, who was sick, sent me a text, "...I would feel better if Chels would fucking score already!" They did, they did and they did shortly after.
The usual crowd was about and milling around during the day, many staying around through the mid-day Scouser match, awaiting the ManYoo-Arsenal tie.
Honestly though, there was a certain tension all day, at least on my part. I found myself sitting at the outdoor tables with Pretzels. Neither one of us were really interested in watching the Scousers and the pub was standing room only. SlainteLOSC stopped by and decided to give a lesson on bad words in French before heading off to the burger-wagon.
By the way, there is a great picture of Pretzels that I took with my phone. He has this big shit-eating grin staring at the screen.
Shortly before the main event, a lot of people started showing up. There ended up being a large African contigent about 60% MancScum and the rest Arsenal supporters. Which was interesting because shortly before they started showing up someone had mentioned earlier that the bistro had a rather non-diverse crowd.
Now that is not a big deal but it's kind of interesting how you get this huge cross section of people at the pub. That's one of my favorite things about football, the diversity of the supporters, players and teams. Each brings something different to the mix and it becomes this community, whether you love or hate your neighbor, you both speak a similar language.
I'll make quick mention of an instance at 2006 World Cup. There was the France - Brazil game. At least that is how I am recalling it currently. After the game, at one of the large tables we had people talking to each other, intermixing the languages (English, French, Spanish) and having a great time, just uniting over football. If you are wondering why Spanish, I think the Spanish speaking girls were in love with Kaka and who doesn't like Brazilian football.
It was a beautiful thing!
Back to Saturday 29 August 2009... now we have a full pub, United - Arsenal, an African contingent, and many onlookers (supporters of various other clubs, including my buddy ACMilan, the Chelski boys and Scousers)
The pub was filled with noise and singing... lots and lots of singing. The African contingent even came in with their own songs which were pretty interesting to say the least. When you add some of the football classics it became like a celebration.
It was so loud, at one point, MancKate had to put in ear plugs.
Arsenal was playing beautiful and United wasn't letting the game get out of hand. The sky was clear, birds were singing, bees were pollinating, One-Nil to the Arsenal and Who the Fuck is Man United had been sung and...
PENALTY!
My prediction was 2-1 and not naming the victor because it is hard to separate the two teams... but that call ruined my whole day.
2-1 is a good score. It usually means one team is good but the other was just better on that day. It's a respectable score but how you go about getting it should be respectable as well.
I know I have no reason to be on a high horse about taking advantage but Old Trafford has a way of brainwashing referees. It's not a conspiracy but answer me this, how come there is always at least 5-6 minutes at the end of the second half at Old Trafford? Everyone knows, don't pretend it doesn't exist. I'm also not going to mention the other dubious MancScum penalty that ended an Arsenal run.
In short, shattered was my good day. I tried to stay for the Italian Oscars but was so worn out and dejected. At least it wasn't as bad as 2006 World Cup, I can say that in reality. I had never been so sad at football, cheating Italians.
I said my good-byes and did the long drive home. I walked in, put my Ska station on Pandora and went to sleep for a couple hours before going for pizza. I get a message from ACMilan about the pub becoming a bit of a mess after I left.
After I had gone, the MancScum supporters from the African contingent started gloating about their win. I know they had a few drinks in them by that time but it doesn't excuse it. LilBlondeGooner and her man were there and took a great deal of the abuse. Completely unnecessary in my book but I didn't witness it. However I do trust the word of ACMilan on that one.
So the lesson for today... Most, not all but MOST ManYoo supporters really are scum.
I will officially make exception for a few that I've been close to over the years, as they are, in my opinion true supporters not only of their club but of football in general. Three in particular, I have been watching games with since 2003/4. GrumpyGooner mentioned that to me the other day.
A few bad apples can really spoil the bunch though. ManYoo seems to attract many bad apples unfortunately. At the end of the day, I say this as a supporter of the sport and nothing else, they are a good club with a lot of history.
Bottom line, when the two come together, Arsenal-ManYoo, it is always a good game.
Still annoyed.
~LeChat
Addendum - wanted to add this link from WDKF, nice to see a ManYoo supporter's perspective on the shit ejection of Wenger. It really was shit.
17 August 2009
EPL Opener Everton Away
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...
The ball is round.
Ciao
~LeChat
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...
The ball is round.
Ciao
~LeChat
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