I bet that is how the old MancScum are feeling about now. I know this blog is about a day late and always a dollar short. This weekend did prove quite interesting overall.
Saturday started off with a few coordination issues but eventually we all ended up where we needed to be at the right time. Champions League final at the pub. It was also the pre-celebration of HalfArseDean's birthday.
The few of us who had met up at the dollar store rolled around to the pub. The pub was packed. A lot of familiar faces showed up. It was like an end of the year homecoming, if that homecoming had a ton of MancScum that you've never really spied before.
I'm not complaining, just making a point. Most of us did our best to ensure there was an atmosphere of sorts. Even Karate Kid Johnny decided to give it a go and tried to get his fellow Scum supporters into it. He was a bit successful and now a bit more respected.
That's all it takes, really. If you show up, support your club and take your lumps, you get the respect. If you show up, act like an ass when your lumps are given to you, then you can fuck off to the bistro.
At the end of the day, we decided to keep the party going a bit for HalfArseDean. He's a good person and an impromptu party/bar crawl is what he needed. Good times.
Monday saw what was to be a disappointing promotion final for Reading. Myself, Ginger, the Librarian and HalfArseDean showed up at the pub to support. Vinnie, found himself in a seat at Wembley. We were hoping to spot him on the television but weren't so lucky. I guess it wasn't anyone's day, well except Swansea who will probably pick up a point at the Grove next season.
So a weekend of ups and downs, good friends and better drinks. One can't complain about that. Now off to the summer things...
....whatever that is.
You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived. I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.
Pardon the way I stare. There is nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.
Bahdah Bahdah Bah dah da da da, Bahdah Bahdah Baaaah!
IT'S AR-SE-LOBA la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba, Arseloba FC
The GREATEST team, that no one has ever seen!
(just a frame of reference. let's get the shirts started)
~LeChat
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
31 May 2011
17 January 2011
Ipswich Away (Carling) and West Ham Away
Another week goes by and two more games. I can't really say much about the mid-week, so I won't. Ipswich took the advantage and ran with it, while The Arsenal did what they do best, bottle it against a much less talented opponent.
This weekend, well was a slightly different story. I made my way down to the pub with Gingerette in tow. She hadn't been down for a game yet, so figured it would be as good a time as any to introduce her to a few of the faces.
After the usual welcome from Irish, we had a few words with the Chelski boys. Apparently, due to whatever scheduling reasons, the game was not being shown. Is it me or does it feel like they are getting done in just as their performance is starting to slip.
Part of me would like to say, good riddance to blue scum, but at the pub, I really do like their supporters. I can't speak for the ones that I don't know but as supporters go, top notch. Anyways, after a bit of chatting with those lot, and making my way through the lighter blue ManShitty scum, I found a nice table at the back to eat my breakfast in peace.
It was a bit of the usual back and forth. The Chelski lot had disappeared to where ever they had come from. The ManShitty crew just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. That's when I realised it was the National College Coaches Convention or some other crap going on in the city.
Who would have thunk that a bunch of scum would be in the city under the auspice of being coaches? Well I guess you have to get them from somewhere. I mean life on the dole can be hard, or so I hear.
After the ManShitty game, we hung around for some proper football. ChelskiGirl wandered in with her normal state of bliss from just getting back from London and about to leave again. She's got to be adding pages to her passport cause that book is getting stamped more than bonehead at an anti-fa rally.
By the way, Bakerman needs to be thanked for bringing in some fine quality pastries. I really need to remind myself to give him much respect. I always think of it after the fact. This time I will not forget. He and Arsebob secured some seats at the bar for the Arsenal match. Which I can say, was a delight after some of the others that have been bandying themselves about as proper matches.
We had a good little crowd come in, one of the coaches asked if this was a usual amount of supporters. Which I replied, sometimes we get a few more but this is the core. And in fact, it was the core; Shorts even broke out the new Djourou song.
About half time, I tracked down the BigManager. I had to make the arrangements for the annual party, which lately has turned into the joint birthday of myself and ChelskiGirl. This year, however, we're going to include the Toffee. He let us know that him and I actually share the same day. On top of that, I think we are going to get a tasty cake made by the Bakerman. It should be a good time.
Tenative date, well the date that's been put in the book is for Sunday 20 February at 8PM in the Society Room/2nd Floor Pub. There is a holiday on the Monday, so no real excuses for you. Pencil it in now. Honestly, don't worry about presents, just showing up and celebrating with the three of us is a gift in itself. I should say four, because I think Usual Server might be jumping on this train too. Her birthday is somewhere in the mix as well. So a quadruple celebration it is.
Final note: Happy MLK, Jr. Day. Let's think about the racism that still tears through the professional leagues and terraces. We shouldn't think about it just on today but every day. I know this is some cliche tripe but it something that affects each and every one of us that pretends to have a righteous soul.
From 2006, probably been shown 101 times but until the problem is fixed. It will be shown again. Mind you, it's a slanted American view, where ESPN pretends the problem doesn't exist here. It may be subtle but it does exist.
~LeChat
This weekend, well was a slightly different story. I made my way down to the pub with Gingerette in tow. She hadn't been down for a game yet, so figured it would be as good a time as any to introduce her to a few of the faces.
After the usual welcome from Irish, we had a few words with the Chelski boys. Apparently, due to whatever scheduling reasons, the game was not being shown. Is it me or does it feel like they are getting done in just as their performance is starting to slip.
Part of me would like to say, good riddance to blue scum, but at the pub, I really do like their supporters. I can't speak for the ones that I don't know but as supporters go, top notch. Anyways, after a bit of chatting with those lot, and making my way through the lighter blue ManShitty scum, I found a nice table at the back to eat my breakfast in peace.
It was a bit of the usual back and forth. The Chelski lot had disappeared to where ever they had come from. The ManShitty crew just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. That's when I realised it was the National College Coaches Convention or some other crap going on in the city.
Who would have thunk that a bunch of scum would be in the city under the auspice of being coaches? Well I guess you have to get them from somewhere. I mean life on the dole can be hard, or so I hear.
After the ManShitty game, we hung around for some proper football. ChelskiGirl wandered in with her normal state of bliss from just getting back from London and about to leave again. She's got to be adding pages to her passport cause that book is getting stamped more than bonehead at an anti-fa rally.
By the way, Bakerman needs to be thanked for bringing in some fine quality pastries. I really need to remind myself to give him much respect. I always think of it after the fact. This time I will not forget. He and Arsebob secured some seats at the bar for the Arsenal match. Which I can say, was a delight after some of the others that have been bandying themselves about as proper matches.
We had a good little crowd come in, one of the coaches asked if this was a usual amount of supporters. Which I replied, sometimes we get a few more but this is the core. And in fact, it was the core; Shorts even broke out the new Djourou song.
About half time, I tracked down the BigManager. I had to make the arrangements for the annual party, which lately has turned into the joint birthday of myself and ChelskiGirl. This year, however, we're going to include the Toffee. He let us know that him and I actually share the same day. On top of that, I think we are going to get a tasty cake made by the Bakerman. It should be a good time.
Tenative date, well the date that's been put in the book is for Sunday 20 February at 8PM in the Society Room/2nd Floor Pub. There is a holiday on the Monday, so no real excuses for you. Pencil it in now. Honestly, don't worry about presents, just showing up and celebrating with the three of us is a gift in itself. I should say four, because I think Usual Server might be jumping on this train too. Her birthday is somewhere in the mix as well. So a quadruple celebration it is.
Final note: Happy MLK, Jr. Day. Let's think about the racism that still tears through the professional leagues and terraces. We shouldn't think about it just on today but every day. I know this is some cliche tripe but it something that affects each and every one of us that pretends to have a righteous soul.
From 2006, probably been shown 101 times but until the problem is fixed. It will be shown again. Mind you, it's a slanted American view, where ESPN pretends the problem doesn't exist here. It may be subtle but it does exist.
~LeChat
04 January 2011
Birmingwho? at Home
LittleblondieGooner took some time out of her busy west coast schedule to remind me that I failed to keep her informed on the inner workings of my stream consciousness also known as this blog.
I kindly informed her that I would not fail again at providing her with the much needed entertainment that she needs, apparently Hollywood and Vine is just not enough for her.
HAPPY NEW YEAR Friends! Let the transfer window open!
Friday - New Year's Eve
It started at 2pm with myself and Sheffield at the pub. We planned on one or two, just to catch up, as we hadn't been able to hang out since the fall of the Roman empire. However, things do change. After a bit, Vinnie came down, need I say things got blurry after such.
We declared a toast to Italy, since it was New Year's there, mind you this was after a few earlier toasts. I believe MiniMo and LittleBlondieGooner had shown up by this time.
Sheffield, Vinnie and myself had taken a few hits of helium from the New Year's eve balloons and tried singing Fill Up My Senses. Another round of shots and I decided it was probably best to go stumbling up the street with Vinnie and GingerCousin who had come in at some point.
By the time we made it up to GingerCousin's place, I was handed some chicken from a Columbian, ate it, and promptly fell asleep on someone's bed. I remember Vinnie coming in and telling me it was New Year's and get my ass up for some sparkly but I wasn't having it. I was snuggled up and not about to move.
Saturday - New Year's Day
All was quiet on New Year's Day as I did my walk of shame through the North end of the point back to my car. I was half inclined to poke my head into the pub to check the MancScum game and say Hi to the sheriff but knew that was a bad idea.
I took in a quick nap and morning ritual back at the homestead and made it down for the second half of some other shit game. Surprised to see an actual Blackpool supporter sitting amongst Shitty faithful.
Some of the same faces from the night before had not gone home, like myself. That was an enjoyable scene. I felt like a ton of bricks, ended up taking a seat next to ArsenalNick on the couches, who at one point disappeared during the half and came back well done.
Shorts came in and had taken up the other seat beside me on the couches. He ordered a chicken sandwich that smelled like the best chicken sandwich ever. It was doing me no good, stole a fry and the night before threatened to come back and visit.
Just a word about the actual game. We were watching it this time. Like recovering from a bad hangover (in other words Wigan) The boys showed there mettle and was able to do over a very harsh Birmingham squad. Those fahkin cunts! Seriously, I'd never seen that much outrageous violence, except in the movies, you know the one where Rambo is like going ape shit on some stupid hick cops.
ArsenalNick kept repeating the quote, "They drew first blood Captain." I don't even know if that's the right quote but it's damn close enough and proved a point. The boys have grown up and now they are the men who play beautiful ball and not afraid to get stuck in as well.
In short, FUCK 'EM ALL LADS!
Build, instead of buy. Assemble and create instead of prefabricated and microwaved. I don't mean to laugh but have you seen the implosions happening with teams wearing blue? I don't see Chelski falling but so far, however maybe they will settle back into the place where they belong.
And now for the best present of the New Year's. HANDBAGS between Ade and, well just about everyone. However, he crossed the line today in my opinion; had a go at King Kolo. Seriously, going after Kolo Touré, in practice! Adebayor, need I say it again? You, my good sir, waste of money, time, space and talent... you fahkin cunt!
Seriously good bye get out of the league and play in Poland or better yet Russia. Hopefully that big head of yours can fit in the Kremlin.
Dear readers, I do apologise for my uncivil tongue. I just can't stand certain people and their certain self-entitled egos; at least you can laugh at Bendtner, the muppet.
~LeChat
I kindly informed her that I would not fail again at providing her with the much needed entertainment that she needs, apparently Hollywood and Vine is just not enough for her.
HAPPY NEW YEAR Friends! Let the transfer window open!
Friday - New Year's Eve
It started at 2pm with myself and Sheffield at the pub. We planned on one or two, just to catch up, as we hadn't been able to hang out since the fall of the Roman empire. However, things do change. After a bit, Vinnie came down, need I say things got blurry after such.
We declared a toast to Italy, since it was New Year's there, mind you this was after a few earlier toasts. I believe MiniMo and LittleBlondieGooner had shown up by this time.
Sheffield, Vinnie and myself had taken a few hits of helium from the New Year's eve balloons and tried singing Fill Up My Senses. Another round of shots and I decided it was probably best to go stumbling up the street with Vinnie and GingerCousin who had come in at some point.
By the time we made it up to GingerCousin's place, I was handed some chicken from a Columbian, ate it, and promptly fell asleep on someone's bed. I remember Vinnie coming in and telling me it was New Year's and get my ass up for some sparkly but I wasn't having it. I was snuggled up and not about to move.
Saturday - New Year's Day
All was quiet on New Year's Day as I did my walk of shame through the North end of the point back to my car. I was half inclined to poke my head into the pub to check the MancScum game and say Hi to the sheriff but knew that was a bad idea.
I took in a quick nap and morning ritual back at the homestead and made it down for the second half of some other shit game. Surprised to see an actual Blackpool supporter sitting amongst Shitty faithful.
Some of the same faces from the night before had not gone home, like myself. That was an enjoyable scene. I felt like a ton of bricks, ended up taking a seat next to ArsenalNick on the couches, who at one point disappeared during the half and came back well done.
Shorts came in and had taken up the other seat beside me on the couches. He ordered a chicken sandwich that smelled like the best chicken sandwich ever. It was doing me no good, stole a fry and the night before threatened to come back and visit.
Just a word about the actual game. We were watching it this time. Like recovering from a bad hangover (in other words Wigan) The boys showed there mettle and was able to do over a very harsh Birmingham squad. Those fahkin cunts! Seriously, I'd never seen that much outrageous violence, except in the movies, you know the one where Rambo is like going ape shit on some stupid hick cops.
ArsenalNick kept repeating the quote, "They drew first blood Captain." I don't even know if that's the right quote but it's damn close enough and proved a point. The boys have grown up and now they are the men who play beautiful ball and not afraid to get stuck in as well.
In short, FUCK 'EM ALL LADS!
Build, instead of buy. Assemble and create instead of prefabricated and microwaved. I don't mean to laugh but have you seen the implosions happening with teams wearing blue? I don't see Chelski falling but so far, however maybe they will settle back into the place where they belong.
And now for the best present of the New Year's. HANDBAGS between Ade and, well just about everyone. However, he crossed the line today in my opinion; had a go at King Kolo. Seriously, going after Kolo Touré, in practice! Adebayor, need I say it again? You, my good sir, waste of money, time, space and talent... you fahkin cunt!
Seriously good bye get out of the league and play in Poland or better yet Russia. Hopefully that big head of yours can fit in the Kremlin.
Dear readers, I do apologise for my uncivil tongue. I just can't stand certain people and their certain self-entitled egos; at least you can laugh at Bendtner, the muppet.
~LeChat
02 August 2010
Emirates Cup o' Noodles
Ahhh the first brilliant weekend of the return of some preseason club football. I have to say, in general the weekend in the city proved to be a very interesting confluence of absurdity.
To begin with, there as the anime convention, which brought out a whole lot of people carrying very large swords and wigs with spiky hair. I think Chamakh was trying to do the same thing with his excessively moussed hairdo.
Then there was the ManShitty - Inter game, which welcomed the antics of some very odd acting football supporters. There is one thing I can say about some of the Mancs that did appear around the pub.
There were no surprises... none at all.
Friday Night
I took in the atmosphere surrounding the unveiling of the ManShitty plaque in the pub. The night started off slow enough but there were good times to be had. My plan was to get there early and hang out a bit.
SlainteLOSC greeted me at the door and we sat near the front waiting for some others to show. I think he was working but you never know with him.
We were plotting on finding Materrazzi and giving him a Baltimore Welcome.
SlainteLOSC made a few phone calls, however, the cheating Italian piece of shit was up in Philadelphia. I think they realized the French Resistance was out for blood or there were too many things named after Lafayette, either way they were not in town until right before the game.
TheCleanOne showed up in his normal cheery mode with Chelski hat fondly on display. Sheffield and WestBrom popped in a few moments later and the corner was now secured. A few Mancs had wandered in from the docks; I only assume that's where they come from.
A few more of the local crew dropped in and that's about the time some of the songs started going on. I think there were some ManShitty uppity folks in suits that assisted with the unveiling but the corner didn't really seem to pay it much mind. We were all busy catching up and prattling on about whatever it is we prattle about.
After the whole ceremony, there were some pictures taken and Blue Moon was sung about 20 times. By this point, Brendan Pelan had set up his guitar and amplifiers, as it was the night he usually plays music, and at that point T-Bone and the Librarian decided to take flight.
Brendan picked up on the Shitty fans singing Blue Moon and started playing along and they started singing a bit louder. I think another couple of songs were played and in one of the breaks You Fill Up My Senses came out of the locals. Brendan also picked up on that as well.
I think he said something to the point of, "Hey I like that song." It was about 5 minutes later, he started playing the original song (Annie by John Denver) and invited us to sing You Fill Up My Senses again. I think we did about 3 times in a row before he went back into singing Annie.
Now you will not get that song out of your head. You're very welcome.
Saturday
Last season the pub showed the Emirates cup. This season, the pub showed the Emirates cup. It's always nice to see some pre-season stuff, sort of puts the taste in your mouth.
When I arrived ArsenalSteve was already sitting there. He had just came back from New York. I didn't ask why, figured it was best that way. We talked a bit about the upcoming season and after a short bit a journalist with cameraman come into the pub. I thought I had seen them outside but didn't pay much mind.
I was in no mood to deal with journos at this time of the morning. They interviewed ThePantsManager and he sent them our way. I remember the journo shaking my hand and quickly declining camera time, shoving it upon ArsenalSteve. My excuse was he's much better looking than me in the morning and the reality of me actually being to shy to talk about football on camera.
I stood in the background with MySonWill pretending to have a conversation about the game on the screen. The whole time we were just making fun of the reporter and the fact that IrishDave kept flirting with her.
My understanding is there is some footage of me that made it onto the television. I still haven't seen it but wish I could find it, just to link it.
Saturday Night
The actual night of the ManShitty-Inter game. I had a show, which I do thank the gods for that. I am so glad I was unable to join in the shit show that was to be. My understanding is that later, after the game, some ManShitty scum had a few too many, jumped up and ripped down the MancScum flag from outside.
Seriously, I, myself have joked about it but find no good reason to do something like that, in a pub on Thames in Baltimore... seriously?
I know, club is important but sometimes you need to keep that and yourself in check. From what I've been told, his friends were a might bit embarrassed and put him in a cab on his way home.
Sunday
Emirates cup glory once again. I got to watch a bit of O'Lyon play. I still love that team. I remember I had a chance to get a kit from a silent auction a couple years ago and flubbed on it.
MySonWill expressed his frustration about the Shitty game from the night before. He said his biological dad, who I think is from Charlton, was very annoyed at the whole game and atmosphere. That seems to be the general consensus.
While I was hoping for something along the lines of the Chelski-Milan match, for the sake of football itself, it seems that did not happen. There was less excitement, less hype and lot less to be desired.
At the end of the day, ManShitty is not a big club and Inter is a shadow of its former self and then there is the World Cup factor. It was broadcast at more or less appropriate times, so there may have just been an over-saturation of football, for a country that doesn't know how to cope with it or even begin, or want to begin, to understand the game.
Anyways, club has started to sow its seeds back into every day life. I can start breathing again. 90 minutes on a Saturday afternoon, that is the life!
~LeChat
To begin with, there as the anime convention, which brought out a whole lot of people carrying very large swords and wigs with spiky hair. I think Chamakh was trying to do the same thing with his excessively moussed hairdo.
Then there was the ManShitty - Inter game, which welcomed the antics of some very odd acting football supporters. There is one thing I can say about some of the Mancs that did appear around the pub.
There were no surprises... none at all.
Friday Night
I took in the atmosphere surrounding the unveiling of the ManShitty plaque in the pub. The night started off slow enough but there were good times to be had. My plan was to get there early and hang out a bit.
SlainteLOSC greeted me at the door and we sat near the front waiting for some others to show. I think he was working but you never know with him.
We were plotting on finding Materrazzi and giving him a Baltimore Welcome.
SlainteLOSC made a few phone calls, however, the cheating Italian piece of shit was up in Philadelphia. I think they realized the French Resistance was out for blood or there were too many things named after Lafayette, either way they were not in town until right before the game.
Je t'aime Zizou!
TheCleanOne showed up in his normal cheery mode with Chelski hat fondly on display. Sheffield and WestBrom popped in a few moments later and the corner was now secured. A few Mancs had wandered in from the docks; I only assume that's where they come from.
A few more of the local crew dropped in and that's about the time some of the songs started going on. I think there were some ManShitty uppity folks in suits that assisted with the unveiling but the corner didn't really seem to pay it much mind. We were all busy catching up and prattling on about whatever it is we prattle about.
After the whole ceremony, there were some pictures taken and Blue Moon was sung about 20 times. By this point, Brendan Pelan had set up his guitar and amplifiers, as it was the night he usually plays music, and at that point T-Bone and the Librarian decided to take flight.
Brendan picked up on the Shitty fans singing Blue Moon and started playing along and they started singing a bit louder. I think another couple of songs were played and in one of the breaks You Fill Up My Senses came out of the locals. Brendan also picked up on that as well.
I think he said something to the point of, "Hey I like that song." It was about 5 minutes later, he started playing the original song (Annie by John Denver) and invited us to sing You Fill Up My Senses again. I think we did about 3 times in a row before he went back into singing Annie.
Now you will not get that song out of your head. You're very welcome.
Saturday
Last season the pub showed the Emirates cup. This season, the pub showed the Emirates cup. It's always nice to see some pre-season stuff, sort of puts the taste in your mouth.
When I arrived ArsenalSteve was already sitting there. He had just came back from New York. I didn't ask why, figured it was best that way. We talked a bit about the upcoming season and after a short bit a journalist with cameraman come into the pub. I thought I had seen them outside but didn't pay much mind.
I was in no mood to deal with journos at this time of the morning. They interviewed ThePantsManager and he sent them our way. I remember the journo shaking my hand and quickly declining camera time, shoving it upon ArsenalSteve. My excuse was he's much better looking than me in the morning and the reality of me actually being to shy to talk about football on camera.
I stood in the background with MySonWill pretending to have a conversation about the game on the screen. The whole time we were just making fun of the reporter and the fact that IrishDave kept flirting with her.
My understanding is there is some footage of me that made it onto the television. I still haven't seen it but wish I could find it, just to link it.
Saturday Night
The actual night of the ManShitty-Inter game. I had a show, which I do thank the gods for that. I am so glad I was unable to join in the shit show that was to be. My understanding is that later, after the game, some ManShitty scum had a few too many, jumped up and ripped down the MancScum flag from outside.
Seriously, I, myself have joked about it but find no good reason to do something like that, in a pub on Thames in Baltimore... seriously?
I know, club is important but sometimes you need to keep that and yourself in check. From what I've been told, his friends were a might bit embarrassed and put him in a cab on his way home.
Sunday
Emirates cup glory once again. I got to watch a bit of O'Lyon play. I still love that team. I remember I had a chance to get a kit from a silent auction a couple years ago and flubbed on it.
MySonWill expressed his frustration about the Shitty game from the night before. He said his biological dad, who I think is from Charlton, was very annoyed at the whole game and atmosphere. That seems to be the general consensus.
While I was hoping for something along the lines of the Chelski-Milan match, for the sake of football itself, it seems that did not happen. There was less excitement, less hype and lot less to be desired.
At the end of the day, ManShitty is not a big club and Inter is a shadow of its former self and then there is the World Cup factor. It was broadcast at more or less appropriate times, so there may have just been an over-saturation of football, for a country that doesn't know how to cope with it or even begin, or want to begin, to understand the game.
Anyways, club has started to sow its seeds back into every day life. I can start breathing again. 90 minutes on a Saturday afternoon, that is the life!
~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
31 December 2009
Portsmouth Away (New Years Eve)
Alright, alright.
First of all I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope all your celebrations went well and you are looking forward to the fun of the weekend. My celebrations will be tame by virtue of falling ill once again with a cold. Figures, the last day of the year, I spend half of it in bed. However, the second half is proving to be more of the usual show.
(I believe it was the shot of Brugal in the tea.)
Quick reminder, for those who are coming. Station (my band) is playing the Sidebar on the 2nd. I hope that you all can make it out, but if not, so be it.
So Portsmouth, a team I actually feel kind of bad for, is having tons of issues both on and off the pitch. I hope they can get it together. Here is to wishing Pompey a better new year and to a great escape out of relegation.
I remember, fondly, Leeds dropping... dropping... dropping and I really didn't care too much. They, well didn't deserve to drop, but I had no real feelings for it either way. Portsmouth on the other hand I have a soft spot for.
Play up Pompey. Play up!
So shall I do a quick look back? Well not really, nothing exciting is happening. I started this blog on a whim, well a well thought out whim. I felt like there were stories from a supporter's perspective that needed to be told. We all hear about this player and that, this coach and that, but we seem to forget about what makes the teams keep going.
They cynic in me would say, the all mighty pound, dollar, euro or what have you. In essence though, the bare bottom of it, is heart. Now I sound like one of the Cantona Joga Bonito adverts.
The fact of the matter is, if there wasn't this heart, passion or rabid spirit for these teams/leagues. There would be no teams/leagues. For comparison, while the MLS is still a toddler there is not as much support, even in comparison to say Coca Cola division 2. Better yet, let's talk about the defunct NASL.
The NASL had names with star power, even changed some of the rules to accommodate the masses, however it did not enjoy the same support as some of the European and South American leagues and teams. It's this support, the cogs in the wheel that keep things going.
The only time you hear about supporters of proper football, it is usually in the light of "hooliganism" reported by some short-sighted journo who needs a story before their deadline. While I'm not against like minded individuals stomping the shit out of each other on a Saturday afternoon. I am against the over-simplification and denegration of the wide range of supporters that do exist.
This is why I do this blog. Hopefully someone will stumble across it and it will open their eyes and they will go "Hey, this doesn't seem all that bad Martha." They will come to understand that because someone puts on a kit and scarf and sings mildly offensive songs at the top of their lungs at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, that they are not bad people or even miscreants or soccer hooligans, as a woman put it to me a few seasons ago.
Well here's to a new decade and hopefully an excellent finish to an already surprising EPL season. I hope to see those that are near soon and those that are far, some time later.
Bonne Annee
~LeChat
First of all I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope all your celebrations went well and you are looking forward to the fun of the weekend. My celebrations will be tame by virtue of falling ill once again with a cold. Figures, the last day of the year, I spend half of it in bed. However, the second half is proving to be more of the usual show.
(I believe it was the shot of Brugal in the tea.)
Quick reminder, for those who are coming. Station (my band) is playing the Sidebar on the 2nd. I hope that you all can make it out, but if not, so be it.
So Portsmouth, a team I actually feel kind of bad for, is having tons of issues both on and off the pitch. I hope they can get it together. Here is to wishing Pompey a better new year and to a great escape out of relegation.
I remember, fondly, Leeds dropping... dropping... dropping and I really didn't care too much. They, well didn't deserve to drop, but I had no real feelings for it either way. Portsmouth on the other hand I have a soft spot for.
Play up Pompey. Play up!
So shall I do a quick look back? Well not really, nothing exciting is happening. I started this blog on a whim, well a well thought out whim. I felt like there were stories from a supporter's perspective that needed to be told. We all hear about this player and that, this coach and that, but we seem to forget about what makes the teams keep going.
They cynic in me would say, the all mighty pound, dollar, euro or what have you. In essence though, the bare bottom of it, is heart. Now I sound like one of the Cantona Joga Bonito adverts.
The fact of the matter is, if there wasn't this heart, passion or rabid spirit for these teams/leagues. There would be no teams/leagues. For comparison, while the MLS is still a toddler there is not as much support, even in comparison to say Coca Cola division 2. Better yet, let's talk about the defunct NASL.
The NASL had names with star power, even changed some of the rules to accommodate the masses, however it did not enjoy the same support as some of the European and South American leagues and teams. It's this support, the cogs in the wheel that keep things going.
The only time you hear about supporters of proper football, it is usually in the light of "hooliganism" reported by some short-sighted journo who needs a story before their deadline. While I'm not against like minded individuals stomping the shit out of each other on a Saturday afternoon. I am against the over-simplification and denegration of the wide range of supporters that do exist.
This is why I do this blog. Hopefully someone will stumble across it and it will open their eyes and they will go "Hey, this doesn't seem all that bad Martha." They will come to understand that because someone puts on a kit and scarf and sings mildly offensive songs at the top of their lungs at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, that they are not bad people or even miscreants or soccer hooligans, as a woman put it to me a few seasons ago.
Well here's to a new decade and hopefully an excellent finish to an already surprising EPL season. I hope to see those that are near soon and those that are far, some time later.
Bonne Annee
~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
04 November 2009
Midweek - AZ Alkmaar Home (CL)
I know I know I usually do this the day after but I'm working on doing this today instead. When I first started this blog, I had mentioned that I would be writing on the day of eventually. I don't want to say this is the start of that veiled promise because it really isn't.
Tuesday
Better known as the retaliation from ACMilan. I'll mention it again. ACMILAN is not a turncoat or traitor or Chelski in disguise. He loves ACMilan so much. ACMilan is ACMilan even when faced with a train full of Roma supporters. Ask him about it, great story.
Tuesday Evening
Tuesday is burger night at the barnextdoor, so I was in the mood for a bleu burger, a nice pint and to pop by the pub to say "Hello" to the locals. I decided to head over after work and had a nice smooth drive. I got a decent parking spot and argued with one of the local beggars, actually the one I went Warrior of God on and doesn't seem to remember what I told him about bothering me.
I casually stroll by the pub and the Chelski locals are stumbling out. T-Bone gave me his normal greeting and started rattling off some of the high points of the CL games. MiniMourhino and Klanksy follow out a moment later with a Chelski geezer who was over for some conference on trees and had stumbled upon the pub.
We all exchanged pleasentries and I popped in to speak with the staff, who for some reason a majority of their names start with the letter "B". It's kind of odd. I know that in itself is not real strange per se, but it is a strange little pattern. I remember having a discussion with 3 out of the 4 one night when they were all working as well. Some customer or something kept getting two of them mixed up, which after thinking about it for a few minutes, you could see it and it didn't help that their names both began with "B".
Pub conspiracy or someone has taken their hiring patterns from the way Wenger buys players. (That's a little joke for those that get it.)
I go back out to the cafe tables where the Chelski boys are holding court and start saying my farewells and glad to meet yas, when it happens. For some reason, there is this vortex around the Chelski boys that sucks you in. MiniMourhino insisted I have a beer with them. I shrugged and went back in and ordered one.
What was suppose to be one beer ended up being another and listening to that infernal One Man went to mow song like 30 times. The Chelski geezer was pretty interesting though. He had grown up during the 70's in the terraces. He and I did sing Tottenham went to see the pope, which was fun in itself.
One of the local beggars came over, a bit drunken and started talking to us. He had some Ravens song, which I think he made up on the spot. He had to leave after a while though. MiniMourhino wasn't having it with him and words were thrown back and forth. The last thing I remember the guy saying to Mini was something along the lines of, "the next time I see you, you better not make me mad."
Eventually, I found my way out of the Chelski vortex. Leaving them with my Arsenal FC song and stumbling up the steps to the barnextdoor. I still had not had my burger yet and my stomach was about to remind me of that.
It appears the power of the Arsenal is very strong in this one.
Wednesday
Well we know the outcome of this glorious side that has now trounced upon whatever that team is called again. The next stages should be fun for the boys in red and white. I do understand though that my Ligue 1 team, Lyon, has created some problems for the Scousers.
I spent the better part of the game at work. I know it's very exciting. However, today was probably one of the better days for getting a lot stuff done at work. I wish every Wednesday was like today.
Fantastic result - Decent day at work - Funny texts from friends
What more is there to ask for?
~LeChat
Tuesday
Better known as the retaliation from ACMilan. I'll mention it again. ACMILAN is not a turncoat or traitor or Chelski in disguise. He loves ACMilan so much. ACMilan is ACMilan even when faced with a train full of Roma supporters. Ask him about it, great story.
Tuesday Evening
Tuesday is burger night at the barnextdoor, so I was in the mood for a bleu burger, a nice pint and to pop by the pub to say "Hello" to the locals. I decided to head over after work and had a nice smooth drive. I got a decent parking spot and argued with one of the local beggars, actually the one I went Warrior of God on and doesn't seem to remember what I told him about bothering me.
I casually stroll by the pub and the Chelski locals are stumbling out. T-Bone gave me his normal greeting and started rattling off some of the high points of the CL games. MiniMourhino and Klanksy follow out a moment later with a Chelski geezer who was over for some conference on trees and had stumbled upon the pub.
We all exchanged pleasentries and I popped in to speak with the staff, who for some reason a majority of their names start with the letter "B". It's kind of odd. I know that in itself is not real strange per se, but it is a strange little pattern. I remember having a discussion with 3 out of the 4 one night when they were all working as well. Some customer or something kept getting two of them mixed up, which after thinking about it for a few minutes, you could see it and it didn't help that their names both began with "B".
Pub conspiracy or someone has taken their hiring patterns from the way Wenger buys players. (That's a little joke for those that get it.)
I go back out to the cafe tables where the Chelski boys are holding court and start saying my farewells and glad to meet yas, when it happens. For some reason, there is this vortex around the Chelski boys that sucks you in. MiniMourhino insisted I have a beer with them. I shrugged and went back in and ordered one.
What was suppose to be one beer ended up being another and listening to that infernal One Man went to mow song like 30 times. The Chelski geezer was pretty interesting though. He had grown up during the 70's in the terraces. He and I did sing Tottenham went to see the pope, which was fun in itself.
One of the local beggars came over, a bit drunken and started talking to us. He had some Ravens song, which I think he made up on the spot. He had to leave after a while though. MiniMourhino wasn't having it with him and words were thrown back and forth. The last thing I remember the guy saying to Mini was something along the lines of, "the next time I see you, you better not make me mad."
Eventually, I found my way out of the Chelski vortex. Leaving them with my Arsenal FC song and stumbling up the steps to the barnextdoor. I still had not had my burger yet and my stomach was about to remind me of that.
It appears the power of the Arsenal is very strong in this one.
Wednesday
Well we know the outcome of this glorious side that has now trounced upon whatever that team is called again. The next stages should be fun for the boys in red and white. I do understand though that my Ligue 1 team, Lyon, has created some problems for the Scousers.
I spent the better part of the game at work. I know it's very exciting. However, today was probably one of the better days for getting a lot stuff done at work. I wish every Wednesday was like today.
Fantastic result - Decent day at work - Funny texts from friends
What more is there to ask for?
~LeChat
02 November 2009
SCUM! at Home (and I forgot the Milk Cup tie)
First of all, I want to apologize for missing the mid-week Milk Cup blog. I don't think it would have made much difference anyways. I did think about it. I watched the highlights but last week was trying, to say the least... and I'm sure my Scouse loving friends won't want me to mention too much about it. SO, I present a totally unrelated to anything football or Scouse blog filler video.
HALLOWEEN or the day The Arsenal stomped on the spirit of good ol' 'Arry!
It's not my fault you wanted to manage a shit team, mate. Scum *visibly shaking my head even as I type this.* Fahkin Scum. There is nothing more disgusting than the Scum, well Rooney had a kid but it's really not the kids fault though, is it? Not to mention that Rooney's kid came out of the womb with the Doctor's wallet and house keys.
What? I'm just saying.
The pub was a bit thin, as there was the Halloween tents and things going on the Thames but it was a decent crowd to say the least, for an early game. Gooners were a bit happier after the first 42 minutes but there were no Sp*rs supporters to be found.
I remember an email or something going about, trying to figure out the exact number of supporters that they have. I think we came up with the number 3, really 2 1/2 because the old guy with the beard is only a supporter because he's Jewish and doesn't know much about the game, but he tries.
And yes, before the Sheriff calls me anti-Semitic again for saying YIDS last week, that is why he told me he was a Sp*rs supporter. I can not make these things up. Anyways, where does MancScum get off calling me out on saying Yids...
They are the Yid Army. I didn't make that one up either, they did.
(It is a predominately Jewish area of North London.)
Wiki links.
Anyways, I'm done with the Scum as they take their rightful place below us on the table.
Fast Fact - Sp*rs have not beaten The Arsenal this century. (I know we are only 9 years into it but it's a nice little fact)
I won't mention the Scousers game too much but I do feel a tad bit of sorrow for their lot in life right now. It goes to show there are only 2 things are certain in football, and one of those is still under question.
I ended up arguing with one of the Scousers calling for Benetiz's job. I had to explain that if the players can't play because the manager is in their head, maybe they should find a new vocation. It's obvious something is going on at that club but to say that it's all Benetiz is a fahkin joke.
A few of the regular Scousers, seemed to be backing me up on my stance. I think he understood that not everything coming out of the Journo's pens is word of God because usually it's far off the mark. I may have been a little harsh but it's an argument that I find unfounded and without substance.
We shook hands and gave each other respect. I'm not a total piece of sh!t. I can respect the opinions of others, just that I'm usually right.
The Chelski game was interesting and quite a few of the blue crew showed up. The Gooners had stuck around mostly to harass everyone else and get drunk off the solid drubbing of the Scum.
When Chelski went up, the songs began flying back and forth. 3 - nil to the Arsenal was holding strong against whatever dribble was spewing from the Chelski boys and girls.
Then they got the fourth.
It was fun while it lasted. The songs and jokes continued into the MancScum game. Someone pointed out there were actually no Mancs in the pub. I think a friend of the BigAustrian showed up with some people and she may have been a Manc supporter, probably akin to having pimples I suppose. There's always one, somewhere, even if it's on your ass.
I remember some pictures being taken and a lot more singing and acting up among the regular crew. Pretzels was missed and his name was mentioned quite a few times but I'm sure he was enjoying the revelry from his spot in the terraces.
SUNDAY
Not much to mention. It was chilly and rainy. I didn't go out Halloween night, as I didn't feel like dealing with the randomness of Halloween, plus had fallen asleep around 6PM and woke up around 10PM and was overall lazy.
I had woken up earlier than usual, due to the time change. I headed down to the barnextdoor and enjoyed a good breakfast while talking with Jonfromnextdoor about the festivities of the night before, since he was working the secondfloornextdoor.
ChelskiGirl came along after a bit. Headache in tow, apparently her and A Certain Scouser got into some scotch or something at Birminghams house. Oh excuse me, BirMigHam or was it BirmingWho? Actually that works. The evolution of your blog name is now finished, in real time at that.
After a while, I went up to visit Barca, then came back to find the barnextdoor had become an American Football paradise. I had run into ManCity himself on the way back and decided to pop into the pub for the City/Shitty game. Which was a tad bit of a surprise. I figured it would be a one sided affair, so had not paid much attention to it.
I will say that with a total of maybe 10 people in the pub, that there is no doubt in my mind, that ManCity has a true passion for his club. I mean I knew it before but it's a good scene to see him being the only person screaming, or better yet encouraging his side to put one in and get it over with.
It was also probably the first time I actually sat and watched a game with really just him. Well there was a friend of his that had shown up just before I did and I believe one of the random Gooners that I am not too acquainted with but only by face, was sitting in the corner booth. It was a good random time though.
Sunday Evening
(liberties were taken with the conversation per my artistic license)
*musical ringtone*
me - Hey Milan.
AC - HEY! Man you should be here. OH my God this girl is hot.. she can't be with that dude. (yelling at couple) HEY is that your daughter? She's too hot for you!
me - Where?
AC - South Beach
(yelling at couple) No is that really your girlfriend? What does she... Are you sure?
me - You're so getting your ass kicked.
AC - It's like 80 here, I bet you are freezing your ass off.
me - meh, 50's and you're a dick for calling me from South Beach
AC - huh... oh man I swear that fat ugly guy can't be with that girl.
~Random talk about football and the weekend~
AC - OH you know that picture of me with the Chelski jersey, don't show that to anyone ok. It might ruin my reputation.
ME - Sure thing.
~LeChat
HALLOWEEN or the day The Arsenal stomped on the spirit of good ol' 'Arry!
It's not my fault you wanted to manage a shit team, mate. Scum *visibly shaking my head even as I type this.* Fahkin Scum. There is nothing more disgusting than the Scum, well Rooney had a kid but it's really not the kids fault though, is it? Not to mention that Rooney's kid came out of the womb with the Doctor's wallet and house keys.
What? I'm just saying.
The pub was a bit thin, as there was the Halloween tents and things going on the Thames but it was a decent crowd to say the least, for an early game. Gooners were a bit happier after the first 42 minutes but there were no Sp*rs supporters to be found.
I remember an email or something going about, trying to figure out the exact number of supporters that they have. I think we came up with the number 3, really 2 1/2 because the old guy with the beard is only a supporter because he's Jewish and doesn't know much about the game, but he tries.
And yes, before the Sheriff calls me anti-Semitic again for saying YIDS last week, that is why he told me he was a Sp*rs supporter. I can not make these things up. Anyways, where does MancScum get off calling me out on saying Yids...
They are the Yid Army. I didn't make that one up either, they did.
(It is a predominately Jewish area of North London.)
Wiki links.
Anyways, I'm done with the Scum as they take their rightful place below us on the table.
Fast Fact - Sp*rs have not beaten The Arsenal this century. (I know we are only 9 years into it but it's a nice little fact)
I won't mention the Scousers game too much but I do feel a tad bit of sorrow for their lot in life right now. It goes to show there are only 2 things are certain in football, and one of those is still under question.
I ended up arguing with one of the Scousers calling for Benetiz's job. I had to explain that if the players can't play because the manager is in their head, maybe they should find a new vocation. It's obvious something is going on at that club but to say that it's all Benetiz is a fahkin joke.
A few of the regular Scousers, seemed to be backing me up on my stance. I think he understood that not everything coming out of the Journo's pens is word of God because usually it's far off the mark. I may have been a little harsh but it's an argument that I find unfounded and without substance.
We shook hands and gave each other respect. I'm not a total piece of sh!t. I can respect the opinions of others, just that I'm usually right.
The Chelski game was interesting and quite a few of the blue crew showed up. The Gooners had stuck around mostly to harass everyone else and get drunk off the solid drubbing of the Scum.
When Chelski went up, the songs began flying back and forth. 3 - nil to the Arsenal was holding strong against whatever dribble was spewing from the Chelski boys and girls.
Then they got the fourth.
It was fun while it lasted. The songs and jokes continued into the MancScum game. Someone pointed out there were actually no Mancs in the pub. I think a friend of the BigAustrian showed up with some people and she may have been a Manc supporter, probably akin to having pimples I suppose. There's always one, somewhere, even if it's on your ass.
I remember some pictures being taken and a lot more singing and acting up among the regular crew. Pretzels was missed and his name was mentioned quite a few times but I'm sure he was enjoying the revelry from his spot in the terraces.
SUNDAY
Not much to mention. It was chilly and rainy. I didn't go out Halloween night, as I didn't feel like dealing with the randomness of Halloween, plus had fallen asleep around 6PM and woke up around 10PM and was overall lazy.
I had woken up earlier than usual, due to the time change. I headed down to the barnextdoor and enjoyed a good breakfast while talking with Jonfromnextdoor about the festivities of the night before, since he was working the secondfloornextdoor.
ChelskiGirl came along after a bit. Headache in tow, apparently her and A Certain Scouser got into some scotch or something at Birminghams house. Oh excuse me, BirMigHam or was it BirmingWho? Actually that works. The evolution of your blog name is now finished, in real time at that.
After a while, I went up to visit Barca, then came back to find the barnextdoor had become an American Football paradise. I had run into ManCity himself on the way back and decided to pop into the pub for the City/Shitty game. Which was a tad bit of a surprise. I figured it would be a one sided affair, so had not paid much attention to it.
I will say that with a total of maybe 10 people in the pub, that there is no doubt in my mind, that ManCity has a true passion for his club. I mean I knew it before but it's a good scene to see him being the only person screaming, or better yet encouraging his side to put one in and get it over with.
It was also probably the first time I actually sat and watched a game with really just him. Well there was a friend of his that had shown up just before I did and I believe one of the random Gooners that I am not too acquainted with but only by face, was sitting in the corner booth. It was a good random time though.
Sunday Evening
(liberties were taken with the conversation per my artistic license)
*musical ringtone*
me - Hey Milan.
AC - HEY! Man you should be here. OH my God this girl is hot.. she can't be with that dude. (yelling at couple) HEY is that your daughter? She's too hot for you!
me - Where?
AC - South Beach
(yelling at couple) No is that really your girlfriend? What does she... Are you sure?
me - You're so getting your ass kicked.
AC - It's like 80 here, I bet you are freezing your ass off.
me - meh, 50's and you're a dick for calling me from South Beach
AC - huh... oh man I swear that fat ugly guy can't be with that girl.
~Random talk about football and the weekend~
AC - OH you know that picture of me with the Chelski jersey, don't show that to anyone ok. It might ruin my reputation.
ME - Sure thing.
How's the weather in South Beach now?
~LeChat
19 October 2009
BIRMINGHAM at HOME and WC2010 Playoff Draw
Where shall I begin?
This weeks blog, like my beautiful little Volkswagen, is having a hard time starting. I am sure that the finishing will be much better than what the Scousers had going on this weekend however.
(Apologies to all my Scouse friends, you may want to stop reading now.)
I believe there was some kind of benefit or get-together on Friday. I only picked up a smattering of what was going on from A Certain Scouser after I was a couple beers into a happy hour before band practice. Needless to say I was unable to attend. I do enjoy their little soirees.
However, I will admit. The beach ball party on Saturday morning was a lot more fun.
Alright, alright, I can feel the ice-picks being thrown across the intertubes now.
So I wasn't in a hurry to watch the first match. I really didn't care too much, either way. I slept in for a few and luckily my car decided to start. So far it was appearing to be a good day.
Making my way into the pub, I get stopped by some of the Chelski jokers about my blue colored jacket. It happens all the time. I quickly opened up and pointed to the cannon on my old school top and laughs were had. I was then told to not turn around and look at the screen.
With confusion on my face, I slowly peer over my shoulder and see it. Villa up and Chelski making very little impact. I smiled, yes only smiled and maybe chuckled a bit and waved myself on. I spoke to ChelskiGirl and Mini-Mourinho before heading down to the Arsenal end of the pub.
I am seriously just going to claim the whole back booth area. For some reason, all our games seem to be on at the same time as the Scousers. And with Irish being a Scouse loving Irishman, we know whose going to be on the main screen. No offense on that, like I've said before, hardest working man in the business. Plus the Scousers do have a rather large contingent, even on beach ball day.
LilBlondieGooner and her man were at the end of the bar. First thing that comes out of her mouth was something along the lines of 'You're late, I expected you to be here already.' Not much I could say, except I decided to sleep in and no one cares about Chelski playing Villa. I now stand corrected.
Also, apparently you can order fruit and toast. Yes, fruit and toast. Go figure.
Well I settle down in the back booths after making some Joe Cole comments and order up some breakfast. A little more substantial than fruit and toast. However this prompts LilBlondieGooner into calling me fat. So I am keeping that one in a little notebook. She will get hers. *insert evil laughter*
I have to admit, nothing too exciting happened. The Gunners showed up, a little sloppy to say the least. Someone started singing 99 Red Balloons after Sunderland scored against the Scousers. Well it was sung quite a few times but no one could get past the beginning of the song.
I did give consolations to my Scouse friends. It was really a dubious decision by the Ref, who by the way, is always a bastard. I was reading in the Guardian about how it should have been disallowed, which is what my immediate thought was.
I might be an annoying Gooner sometimes, but HEY, I do know what's fair and what some of the more obscure rules of the game, for the most part. It is nice to have some kind of confirmation of the fact without having to look it up in a rule book.
Anyways, it was a positive, albeit London weather like, Saturday for the pub and football, and most of all the Arsenal. Everyone dropping points, except for the bloody Scum. I still can't believe they are one point ahead of us.
Yah, Game in Hand, I know. Still Scum sit above The Arsenal in the table.
Sunday
My Sunday was suppose to be heading down to the pub to harass City and catch up with ACMilan. However, German engineering sought to derail my attempts at forming a resistance by staging an occupation of my back yard. Or the Scousers nicked my starter. Someone is plotting against me. So I spent most of the day figuring out that my battery was not the issue and that I would have to go to a real mechanic.
What do you Germans and Scousers have in common...
The English version. You know, whatever you do, don't mention the war.
OH I need to pass on this story, as well. ACMilan, which I must mention, calls me late in the day with a wonderful tale that needed to be witnessed. He sends me an MMS with himself posing with a bunch of guys from a reggae band. He calls it his good luck charm.
Apparently, when all hope was lost. These guys started setting up to perform at the pub that night. ACMilan asked if they could hold off for a bit while the game was finishing. They agreed and were messing around a bit. ACMilan said they started playing Three Little Birds, and Milan started playing like they were all a bunch of 20 year olds, coming back and winning their match against Roma.
He said the music just fit, everything was just working, clicking on all cylinders. Then he started singing, "Don't worry bout a thing, cause every little thing, is going to be alright." Which I will admit, hearing ACMilan singing Bob Marley, was a highlight on a rather dismal Sunday.
MONDAY - World Cup Playoff Draw
As many of you may or may not know, I do not get much time to access the intertubes from work. Today, during my lunch, half not thinking, I decide to have a look at the good old Guardian. The Guardian goes well with cheesesteak subs apparently.
My bookmark is actually on the football page. Top story just happened to be this one.
France will not intimidate Irish
Very interesting indeed. I was expecting the draw to go a little different. I did not expect to be drawn against the Irish. It's going to make for a very uncomfortable mid-November at the pub. My only consolation is knowing that the French games will be on the big screen. I hope that SlainteLOSC does decide to turn up. United we must stand in a sea of green.
I must point out that this still does not discredit my World Cup conspiracy theory. It just proves it, more or less. Ireland could actually be a contender but what would FIFA do if they actually took the thing? Seriously, if Ireland does get lucky and beat France, then at least they can say they beat one of the better teams out there and have proof that they are a serious contender. My guess is there is always wishful thinking or luck of the Irish. HA!
Allez les Bleus!
~LeChat
This weeks blog, like my beautiful little Volkswagen, is having a hard time starting. I am sure that the finishing will be much better than what the Scousers had going on this weekend however.
(Apologies to all my Scouse friends, you may want to stop reading now.)
I believe there was some kind of benefit or get-together on Friday. I only picked up a smattering of what was going on from A Certain Scouser after I was a couple beers into a happy hour before band practice. Needless to say I was unable to attend. I do enjoy their little soirees.
However, I will admit. The beach ball party on Saturday morning was a lot more fun.
Alright, alright, I can feel the ice-picks being thrown across the intertubes now.
So I wasn't in a hurry to watch the first match. I really didn't care too much, either way. I slept in for a few and luckily my car decided to start. So far it was appearing to be a good day.
Making my way into the pub, I get stopped by some of the Chelski jokers about my blue colored jacket. It happens all the time. I quickly opened up and pointed to the cannon on my old school top and laughs were had. I was then told to not turn around and look at the screen.
With confusion on my face, I slowly peer over my shoulder and see it. Villa up and Chelski making very little impact. I smiled, yes only smiled and maybe chuckled a bit and waved myself on. I spoke to ChelskiGirl and Mini-Mourinho before heading down to the Arsenal end of the pub.
I am seriously just going to claim the whole back booth area. For some reason, all our games seem to be on at the same time as the Scousers. And with Irish being a Scouse loving Irishman, we know whose going to be on the main screen. No offense on that, like I've said before, hardest working man in the business. Plus the Scousers do have a rather large contingent, even on beach ball day.
LilBlondieGooner and her man were at the end of the bar. First thing that comes out of her mouth was something along the lines of 'You're late, I expected you to be here already.' Not much I could say, except I decided to sleep in and no one cares about Chelski playing Villa. I now stand corrected.
Also, apparently you can order fruit and toast. Yes, fruit and toast. Go figure.
Well I settle down in the back booths after making some Joe Cole comments and order up some breakfast. A little more substantial than fruit and toast. However this prompts LilBlondieGooner into calling me fat. So I am keeping that one in a little notebook. She will get hers. *insert evil laughter*
I have to admit, nothing too exciting happened. The Gunners showed up, a little sloppy to say the least. Someone started singing 99 Red Balloons after Sunderland scored against the Scousers. Well it was sung quite a few times but no one could get past the beginning of the song.
I did give consolations to my Scouse friends. It was really a dubious decision by the Ref, who by the way, is always a bastard. I was reading in the Guardian about how it should have been disallowed, which is what my immediate thought was.
I might be an annoying Gooner sometimes, but HEY, I do know what's fair and what some of the more obscure rules of the game, for the most part. It is nice to have some kind of confirmation of the fact without having to look it up in a rule book.
Anyways, it was a positive, albeit London weather like, Saturday for the pub and football, and most of all the Arsenal. Everyone dropping points, except for the bloody Scum. I still can't believe they are one point ahead of us.
Yah, Game in Hand, I know. Still Scum sit above The Arsenal in the table.
Sunday
My Sunday was suppose to be heading down to the pub to harass City and catch up with ACMilan. However, German engineering sought to derail my attempts at forming a resistance by staging an occupation of my back yard. Or the Scousers nicked my starter. Someone is plotting against me. So I spent most of the day figuring out that my battery was not the issue and that I would have to go to a real mechanic.
What do you Germans and Scousers have in common...
The English version. You know, whatever you do, don't mention the war.
OH I need to pass on this story, as well. ACMilan, which I must mention, calls me late in the day with a wonderful tale that needed to be witnessed. He sends me an MMS with himself posing with a bunch of guys from a reggae band. He calls it his good luck charm.
Apparently, when all hope was lost. These guys started setting up to perform at the pub that night. ACMilan asked if they could hold off for a bit while the game was finishing. They agreed and were messing around a bit. ACMilan said they started playing Three Little Birds, and Milan started playing like they were all a bunch of 20 year olds, coming back and winning their match against Roma.
He said the music just fit, everything was just working, clicking on all cylinders. Then he started singing, "Don't worry bout a thing, cause every little thing, is going to be alright." Which I will admit, hearing ACMilan singing Bob Marley, was a highlight on a rather dismal Sunday.
MONDAY - World Cup Playoff Draw
As many of you may or may not know, I do not get much time to access the intertubes from work. Today, during my lunch, half not thinking, I decide to have a look at the good old Guardian. The Guardian goes well with cheesesteak subs apparently.
My bookmark is actually on the football page. Top story just happened to be this one.
France will not intimidate Irish
Very interesting indeed. I was expecting the draw to go a little different. I did not expect to be drawn against the Irish. It's going to make for a very uncomfortable mid-November at the pub. My only consolation is knowing that the French games will be on the big screen. I hope that SlainteLOSC does decide to turn up. United we must stand in a sea of green.
I must point out that this still does not discredit my World Cup conspiracy theory. It just proves it, more or less. Ireland could actually be a contender but what would FIFA do if they actually took the thing? Seriously, if Ireland does get lucky and beat France, then at least they can say they beat one of the better teams out there and have proof that they are a serious contender. My guess is there is always wishful thinking or luck of the Irish. HA!
Allez les Bleus!
~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
17 September 2009
Standard what?
Yah, I'm still confused. These teams... where do they come from?
Belgium?
Midweek- I don't see the games mid-week unless I start bribing someone. Mentioning Italian league football/calcio.. whatever the hell they call it. This evening was an evening to hear not 1... not 2 but 4 bloody people speaking Italian words at the pub.
What goes?
So the night starts off with picking up Sheffield from Hopkins. He was a bottle of champagne into his night already. We had a quick one together... he tried singing some songs but we couldn't think of anything that wasn't offensive.
We also discovered that Duvel is actually good.
Sheffield leaves so I take a tour around the point for some Hot Tomato. Delicious I must say. Nothing better than a greasy pizza.
While sitting on a curb down by the park I get a text from ACMilan saying he was coming up from DC, which I figure, I should just head back to the pub. I look up across the park and see a dog named Chelsea and Mini-Mourhinho. I have a few words with him before heading down the street.
ACMilan finally shows up, an hour later. During that time I think I had like half of one of the staff's steaks and some asparagus. I must admit, hanging out at the pub at night does have it's benefits. Jonfromnextdoor came over as well.
ACMilan recounted the story of his alleged food poisoning. He figured it was a good idea to eat at a 7-11 and then go for the 7 - 10 mile run. Did I ever say that ACMilan is actually an ACMilan fan? Goes a long way to explaining it, doesn't it.
Anyways our conversation with Jonfromnextdoor quickly divulged into the politics and corruption in modern day football officiating versus American sports officiating. Not your normal bar conversation which B-Dawg repeatedly told us.
It was a good night though for a mid-week, well day after mid-week. I even got to run into one of my favorite Gooners in the middle of Thames. Mind you his woman decided to park in the middle of the street with flashers, Baltimore-style.
Looking forward to this weekend and 3 points in the league.
A very tired and sleepy... ~LeChat
Belgium?
Midweek- I don't see the games mid-week unless I start bribing someone. Mentioning Italian league football/calcio.. whatever the hell they call it. This evening was an evening to hear not 1... not 2 but 4 bloody people speaking Italian words at the pub.
What goes?
So the night starts off with picking up Sheffield from Hopkins. He was a bottle of champagne into his night already. We had a quick one together... he tried singing some songs but we couldn't think of anything that wasn't offensive.
We also discovered that Duvel is actually good.
Sheffield leaves so I take a tour around the point for some Hot Tomato. Delicious I must say. Nothing better than a greasy pizza.
While sitting on a curb down by the park I get a text from ACMilan saying he was coming up from DC, which I figure, I should just head back to the pub. I look up across the park and see a dog named Chelsea and Mini-Mourhinho. I have a few words with him before heading down the street.
ACMilan finally shows up, an hour later. During that time I think I had like half of one of the staff's steaks and some asparagus. I must admit, hanging out at the pub at night does have it's benefits. Jonfromnextdoor came over as well.
ACMilan recounted the story of his alleged food poisoning. He figured it was a good idea to eat at a 7-11 and then go for the 7 - 10 mile run. Did I ever say that ACMilan is actually an ACMilan fan? Goes a long way to explaining it, doesn't it.
Anyways our conversation with Jonfromnextdoor quickly divulged into the politics and corruption in modern day football officiating versus American sports officiating. Not your normal bar conversation which B-Dawg repeatedly told us.
It was a good night though for a mid-week, well day after mid-week. I even got to run into one of my favorite Gooners in the middle of Thames. Mind you his woman decided to park in the middle of the street with flashers, Baltimore-style.
Looking forward to this weekend and 3 points in the league.
A very tired and sleepy... ~LeChat
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)