Another pleasant weekend goes by, and the Arsenal take three points. I would guess that I should be taking away some satisfaction but the reality of it all is that it feels quite hollow. Three points is three points, no matter what, right? I don't give in easily with that philosophy but I do understand it.
Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.
The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.
Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.
Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.
One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”
He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.
Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”
The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”
This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.
Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.
Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.
Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape, but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.
Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.
~LeChat
Showing posts with label spurs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spurs. Show all posts
17 October 2011
03 October 2011
Tottenham Away
From the looks of it, the wheels have fallen off.
All in all, amongst other things. The weekend was not half bad. I have to admit the festival was pretty nice, not a lot of big crowds and plenty of fun times. I guess at these moments of time, you have to stick with the positives.
I am really at a lost of words. I don't want to dwell on the failings because that does no one any good at the moment. I could whine and moan and grumble about sorts of things... things that have just been repeated ad nauseum.
It is a great big sigh.
So what now?
I watched the Cass Pennant movie the other day. Worth a look, if you're interested in football, ICF, and just an overall story of being black in the western world.
OH! I did have this wonderfully big cheese steak on Saturday. Also a cat just licked my face. Then there were the pit beef sandwiches. Tasty as usual. I guess that is the best thing about the festival: the food.
I really had an inkling to get some stuff from the latin garden or whatever they were calling the upper area this year. It smelled so good plus I dig some bachata music.
I don't know. This has become a pure non-sensical ramble.
~LeChat
All in all, amongst other things. The weekend was not half bad. I have to admit the festival was pretty nice, not a lot of big crowds and plenty of fun times. I guess at these moments of time, you have to stick with the positives.
I am really at a lost of words. I don't want to dwell on the failings because that does no one any good at the moment. I could whine and moan and grumble about sorts of things... things that have just been repeated ad nauseum.
It is a great big sigh.
So what now?
I watched the Cass Pennant movie the other day. Worth a look, if you're interested in football, ICF, and just an overall story of being black in the western world.
OH! I did have this wonderfully big cheese steak on Saturday. Also a cat just licked my face. Then there were the pit beef sandwiches. Tasty as usual. I guess that is the best thing about the festival: the food.
I really had an inkling to get some stuff from the latin garden or whatever they were calling the upper area this year. It smelled so good plus I dig some bachata music.
I don't know. This has become a pure non-sensical ramble.
~LeChat
22 November 2010
SP*RS at home
I'm just going to gloss over the reality of what actually happened and concentrate on positive things. I figure through positive thought good things will happen. When good things start happening then I can relax my positive thinking. Sort of like being 2-nil up.... OH wait... fuck.
Friday was good. I went and saw Brian Poshean or however you spell his name. I ran into the Librarian and T-Bone. It seemed like I hadn't seen T-Bone in quite a while but I know it had only been a few weeks. All and all a good comedy night.
Saturday morning, however, I should have just stayed in bed. The pub enjoyed quite a lively crew, even if I was half asleep and feeling the effects of the night before. I know at one time I had done a cartwheel across Howard Street. I distinctly remember that and running away from ScouseDrummer as he was trying to jump on me. I can't even remember why.
In essence, me and a rolled up hoodie found a comfortable spot to enjoy a nice easy Saturday morning. And like most things in my life, it started out well, shiny and bright. The sun rose in the east and the moon set in the west.
However the bane of my existence decided it would monkey-wrench my good feelings. If ten tons of bricks could come down and knock me in my head, I would call it the second half at Ashburton Grove on 20 November 2010. My own personal disaster.
I remember leaning over to GrumpyGooner at one point and making the statement of how those people had done this before. How the singular instance of stupidity residing in North London had come back from a 2-nil deficit and stole points.
I shouldn't just vent my anger, but in short, it ruined the rest of the weekend. I became physically sick and stayed in bed the rest of the day, dancing between sleep and mild annoyance. Thank the gods for Ken Burns Jazz streaming on Netflix.
The only consolation was a Chelski loss, which I had forecast before walking out the door at the pub. I guess not all is loss then.
QUICK non-football update, for those who care.
STATION, otherwise known as my band, will be playing Sidebar on 26-NOV-10 and 4-DEC-10, for those who care. 4-DEC-10 is ScouseDrummer's birthday show, so make it an effort and show for that one or both if you really like us.
And for sticking around, here's some video from the Barclay Show.
~LeChat
Friday was good. I went and saw Brian Poshean or however you spell his name. I ran into the Librarian and T-Bone. It seemed like I hadn't seen T-Bone in quite a while but I know it had only been a few weeks. All and all a good comedy night.
Saturday morning, however, I should have just stayed in bed. The pub enjoyed quite a lively crew, even if I was half asleep and feeling the effects of the night before. I know at one time I had done a cartwheel across Howard Street. I distinctly remember that and running away from ScouseDrummer as he was trying to jump on me. I can't even remember why.
In essence, me and a rolled up hoodie found a comfortable spot to enjoy a nice easy Saturday morning. And like most things in my life, it started out well, shiny and bright. The sun rose in the east and the moon set in the west.
However the bane of my existence decided it would monkey-wrench my good feelings. If ten tons of bricks could come down and knock me in my head, I would call it the second half at Ashburton Grove on 20 November 2010. My own personal disaster.
I remember leaning over to GrumpyGooner at one point and making the statement of how those people had done this before. How the singular instance of stupidity residing in North London had come back from a 2-nil deficit and stole points.
I shouldn't just vent my anger, but in short, it ruined the rest of the weekend. I became physically sick and stayed in bed the rest of the day, dancing between sleep and mild annoyance. Thank the gods for Ken Burns Jazz streaming on Netflix.
The only consolation was a Chelski loss, which I had forecast before walking out the door at the pub. I guess not all is loss then.
QUICK non-football update, for those who care.
STATION, otherwise known as my band, will be playing Sidebar on 26-NOV-10 and 4-DEC-10, for those who care. 4-DEC-10 is ScouseDrummer's birthday show, so make it an effort and show for that one or both if you really like us.
And for sticking around, here's some video from the Barclay Show.
~LeChat
21 September 2010
Sunderland Away then Spurs Away (Carling)
In not keeping with traditions, I'm writing this today/night. The usual Monday rants got bumped due to me laying in bed with the covers pulled over my head and feeling like some miniature mountain climber was using my esophagus as his Mount Everest.
I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.
I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.
You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.
Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.
I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.
Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.
All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.
Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.
Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.
Scum 1 - Gunners 4
It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.
~LeChat
I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.
I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.
You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.
Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.
I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.
Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.
All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.
Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.
Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.
Scum 1 - Gunners 4
It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.
~LeChat
24 August 2010
Blackpool at Home
Ah my trickery has succeeded. It was my plan all along to write on Tuesday. It was, I assure you. This weekend provided not much in the way of excitement or joviality at all. I can say it was pretty boring, in a nut shell.
It's common to assume that a win with such a big scoreline would have oneself much overjoyed but due to the lack of real teeth in the attack and a lackluster showing in the middle and back, it wasn't.
Saturday
The pub was actually quite full. There seem to be a lot more Arsenal showing up. Several faces that I have never spied before. This is definitely a good thing. They all seemed to enjoy the atmosphere from the usual suspects.
I, myself, had been in a rather quiet mode. I had things to do, places to be in the afternoon and decided it would best be to save my energy. However, it was also the last weekend for Bayern to be in town before heading to Afghanistan.
Maybe this is why there was a sort of solemn like atmosphere, even in celebration. Or the simple fact that we were running roughshod over Blackpool, who if they were a better quality team, may have given the Arsenal some trouble.
I guess the only thing that gave any real pleasantry was a small clop of Scum supporters had wallowed their way in. With out much haste, they were all seen to the second floor. Funny thing that, they seem to be multiplying like the ManShitty whorde.
I stuck around a bit for the Chelski game, just to see, or hope for a minor upset. However, we know how that ended up. Bayern had left right before kickoff and the pub faithful in attendance sung him out. It was a touching moment, but since he made mention of tearing up on FB, he's officially a poof!
I do hope he does alright and makes it back in one piece. There seem to be a lot more than usual dropping off lately.
After the half of the Chelski game, I was well tired. It was quite a bore to be honest, or I have given up on football. That I seriously doubt. I think I left around 4-nil, at that point, there is none.
I celebrated the evening with the family, being my mother's 76th and all that. It was quite nice, sitting around, making fun of everyone and just doing nothing.
Sunday
If I said I was hungover, that would be a plain lie. My cousins decided that Saturday evening would be best spent on the back porch with a bottle of 100 proof rum. I chose not to imbibe, as I was still a bit done in from the pub earlier that day.
I just hung around in my room, peeking at the MancScum score, but not really caring. I had an itch to go the pub but decided against it. I tend to spend too much money and not have much recollection of the entire process. The weekend tends to fly by, way too fast.
I decided to curl up with my laptop and watch American History X. Well I watched half of it before going to band practice. I swear I hadn't had so much anger in my mind in a very long time.
At one point, I remember sitting in a chair talking to ScouseDrummer and going in a full tilt rant about how screwed up things are with the whole political climate in the United States. How the same anti-immigrant rant done by Ed Norton in American History X was the exact same one I heard from some fat sweaty politico on the news, and the fact that racist drek is fully accepted now.
I know, preaching to the choir.
Monday
All be it an over-exhilarating day at the work place; Understaffed, OVER busy followed by computers crashing right after lunch. GrumpyGooner gives me a call and for some reason I answer it. Well it is quite odd for him to call me during the middle of the workday and figuring that nothing else bad could happen. So, I answer.
Bad Manners were playing an underground show at an undisclosed warehouse. He made it clear that it would be in my best interest to show up. I usually take him at his word.
After I got off work, I gave ScouseDrummer a call, he'd heard about it from another source and we were both trying to figure out whether we were heading down. He hadn't seen the result of the Liverpool match and I was biting my tongue not to let it blurt out.
I got to the space a bit early, so drove around the corner for a pint. By the time I came back, there were quite a few more cars outside. Walking in I was greeted by GrumpyGooner and ChelskiJohn.
ScouseDrummer had been milling about with some of the other skins and I caught up with him for a bit. It was a pretty good crowd. In the corner, on a set of couches, was NorthLondonYid and crew. He came over and we talked a bit about the Bale goal and games this upcoming week.
He went on about the Young Boys pitch being a bit dodgy and that half the squad had succumb to injuries because of it. I made mention that it must be something in the water or air or something to that effect, as the Arsenal is well aware of playing with half the starting XI out due to injury.
The show was pretty good, even though Bad Manners took their time getting on the stage to play. Scotch Bonnets, the only other band to play, had been done their set about 2 hours prior. GrumpyGooner finally went over and whispered something into someone's ear and they were up on stage... Nice one.
So that is what happened to not publishing on Monday. If anyone really cared. And for my finalé, some old school Bad Manners.
~LeChat
It's common to assume that a win with such a big scoreline would have oneself much overjoyed but due to the lack of real teeth in the attack and a lackluster showing in the middle and back, it wasn't.
Saturday
The pub was actually quite full. There seem to be a lot more Arsenal showing up. Several faces that I have never spied before. This is definitely a good thing. They all seemed to enjoy the atmosphere from the usual suspects.
I, myself, had been in a rather quiet mode. I had things to do, places to be in the afternoon and decided it would best be to save my energy. However, it was also the last weekend for Bayern to be in town before heading to Afghanistan.
Maybe this is why there was a sort of solemn like atmosphere, even in celebration. Or the simple fact that we were running roughshod over Blackpool, who if they were a better quality team, may have given the Arsenal some trouble.
I guess the only thing that gave any real pleasantry was a small clop of Scum supporters had wallowed their way in. With out much haste, they were all seen to the second floor. Funny thing that, they seem to be multiplying like the ManShitty whorde.
I stuck around a bit for the Chelski game, just to see, or hope for a minor upset. However, we know how that ended up. Bayern had left right before kickoff and the pub faithful in attendance sung him out. It was a touching moment, but since he made mention of tearing up on FB, he's officially a poof!
I do hope he does alright and makes it back in one piece. There seem to be a lot more than usual dropping off lately.
After the half of the Chelski game, I was well tired. It was quite a bore to be honest, or I have given up on football. That I seriously doubt. I think I left around 4-nil, at that point, there is none.
I celebrated the evening with the family, being my mother's 76th and all that. It was quite nice, sitting around, making fun of everyone and just doing nothing.
Sunday
If I said I was hungover, that would be a plain lie. My cousins decided that Saturday evening would be best spent on the back porch with a bottle of 100 proof rum. I chose not to imbibe, as I was still a bit done in from the pub earlier that day.
I just hung around in my room, peeking at the MancScum score, but not really caring. I had an itch to go the pub but decided against it. I tend to spend too much money and not have much recollection of the entire process. The weekend tends to fly by, way too fast.
I decided to curl up with my laptop and watch American History X. Well I watched half of it before going to band practice. I swear I hadn't had so much anger in my mind in a very long time.
At one point, I remember sitting in a chair talking to ScouseDrummer and going in a full tilt rant about how screwed up things are with the whole political climate in the United States. How the same anti-immigrant rant done by Ed Norton in American History X was the exact same one I heard from some fat sweaty politico on the news, and the fact that racist drek is fully accepted now.
I know, preaching to the choir.
Monday
All be it an over-exhilarating day at the work place; Understaffed, OVER busy followed by computers crashing right after lunch. GrumpyGooner gives me a call and for some reason I answer it. Well it is quite odd for him to call me during the middle of the workday and figuring that nothing else bad could happen. So, I answer.
Bad Manners were playing an underground show at an undisclosed warehouse. He made it clear that it would be in my best interest to show up. I usually take him at his word.
After I got off work, I gave ScouseDrummer a call, he'd heard about it from another source and we were both trying to figure out whether we were heading down. He hadn't seen the result of the Liverpool match and I was biting my tongue not to let it blurt out.
I got to the space a bit early, so drove around the corner for a pint. By the time I came back, there were quite a few more cars outside. Walking in I was greeted by GrumpyGooner and ChelskiJohn.
ScouseDrummer had been milling about with some of the other skins and I caught up with him for a bit. It was a pretty good crowd. In the corner, on a set of couches, was NorthLondonYid and crew. He came over and we talked a bit about the Bale goal and games this upcoming week.
He went on about the Young Boys pitch being a bit dodgy and that half the squad had succumb to injuries because of it. I made mention that it must be something in the water or air or something to that effect, as the Arsenal is well aware of playing with half the starting XI out due to injury.
The show was pretty good, even though Bad Manners took their time getting on the stage to play. Scotch Bonnets, the only other band to play, had been done their set about 2 hours prior. GrumpyGooner finally went over and whispered something into someone's ear and they were up on stage... Nice one.
So that is what happened to not publishing on Monday. If anyone really cared. And for my finalé, some old school Bad Manners.
~LeChat
16 August 2010
Liverpool Away
YES! It has finally arrived. Opening weekend of the EPL season. So enough with the frivolity, let's get down to business, shall we?
Friday
It was a really non-plus type of night. I headed home after a long day of work, sat down in front of the computer and zoned out into my own megalomaniac session of Tropico. For some reason I am finding this game to be very addicting. I think it's the fact that I can have people assassinated at my whim. As you can see, I live an exciting life.
Saturday
Bright and early sunshine. I headed my way down to the pub for the breakfast and to watch Shitty and Scum take on each other. I didn't really care who won but I will admit the atmosphere was sorely lacking and for one semi-annoying reason. MANCITY himself was not there.
I will take a minute to congratulate him for his nuptials and hope he had a wonderful time on his honeymoon.
The ManCity gremlin horde was out in force, which is a good thing, mind you they don't have the presence of ManCity Himself though.
After a bit, I decide to wander up to meet some of the Chelski lads with T-Bone at the dollar store. We took a few shots and then I remembered I left my drink with A Certain Scouser and headed back to the pub. Things have a tendency to disappear around that girl.
Drink intact, I found a standing room spot and watched the obliteration of that fine West Brom team by the Chelski. It's a bit of a shame though, when you think about it. They shouldn't have been outclassed as such.
The Chelski lads were of course in full chorus. I reminded them repeatedly that you just beat West Brom on the first day of the league... is it really appropriate? They didn't seem to care. My only hope is that Blackpool or Newcastle stick it to them. Now that would be a good day.
I spent the rest of the evening in bed. I can't even recall how that happened. I got home, passed out, woke up for about an hour and then just slept. I think I got a good 12 hours... very nice.
Sunday
People keep saying this thing about Christmas day. You know I'd been terrorizing the cyber-world with videos of Michael Thomas and the end bit to Fever Pitch (the proper one), for the whole weekend. So yah, there was a bit of anticipation for the first match.
I journeyed down early, just to get more of the free buffet. I am not going to lie about it but if I can get free Eggs Benedict with a side of bacon and breakfast tortilla, it's going to happen. I laid off the bevvy for a bit, however I found myself with a bloody mary in my hand at some point.
Rumour has it that there has been a slight Scouse division, which may be a good thing because it was still (inappropriate comment) packed in the pub. There was some strange guy there that was a suppos-ed friend of Arse St. Nick's and he was a bit off the rocker. He kept trying to trade shirts with people, very odd indeed. I had to explain why I was wearing Arsenal yellow and why it wasn't a Brasil kit.
Good news! We get to keep Bayern for another week. I need to tell him that the middle east just doesn't want him. Either way, wish him well, here or there.
Yah I know this seems a bit disjointed. I have a feeling it will all come together in the end.
Anyways, I've just been offered sushi and you know who can't resist a bit of raw fish!
~LeChat
Friday
It was a really non-plus type of night. I headed home after a long day of work, sat down in front of the computer and zoned out into my own megalomaniac session of Tropico. For some reason I am finding this game to be very addicting. I think it's the fact that I can have people assassinated at my whim. As you can see, I live an exciting life.
Saturday
Bright and early sunshine. I headed my way down to the pub for the breakfast and to watch Shitty and Scum take on each other. I didn't really care who won but I will admit the atmosphere was sorely lacking and for one semi-annoying reason. MANCITY himself was not there.
I will take a minute to congratulate him for his nuptials and hope he had a wonderful time on his honeymoon.
The ManCity gremlin horde was out in force, which is a good thing, mind you they don't have the presence of ManCity Himself though.
After a bit, I decide to wander up to meet some of the Chelski lads with T-Bone at the dollar store. We took a few shots and then I remembered I left my drink with A Certain Scouser and headed back to the pub. Things have a tendency to disappear around that girl.
Drink intact, I found a standing room spot and watched the obliteration of that fine West Brom team by the Chelski. It's a bit of a shame though, when you think about it. They shouldn't have been outclassed as such.
The Chelski lads were of course in full chorus. I reminded them repeatedly that you just beat West Brom on the first day of the league... is it really appropriate? They didn't seem to care. My only hope is that Blackpool or Newcastle stick it to them. Now that would be a good day.
I spent the rest of the evening in bed. I can't even recall how that happened. I got home, passed out, woke up for about an hour and then just slept. I think I got a good 12 hours... very nice.
Sunday
People keep saying this thing about Christmas day. You know I'd been terrorizing the cyber-world with videos of Michael Thomas and the end bit to Fever Pitch (the proper one), for the whole weekend. So yah, there was a bit of anticipation for the first match.
I journeyed down early, just to get more of the free buffet. I am not going to lie about it but if I can get free Eggs Benedict with a side of bacon and breakfast tortilla, it's going to happen. I laid off the bevvy for a bit, however I found myself with a bloody mary in my hand at some point.
Rumour has it that there has been a slight Scouse division, which may be a good thing because it was still (inappropriate comment) packed in the pub. There was some strange guy there that was a suppos-ed friend of Arse St. Nick's and he was a bit off the rocker. He kept trying to trade shirts with people, very odd indeed. I had to explain why I was wearing Arsenal yellow and why it wasn't a Brasil kit.
Good news! We get to keep Bayern for another week. I need to tell him that the middle east just doesn't want him. Either way, wish him well, here or there.
Yah I know this seems a bit disjointed. I have a feeling it will all come together in the end.
Anyways, I've just been offered sushi and you know who can't resist a bit of raw fish!
~LeChat
03 May 2010
Blackburn Away
Surprise, usually this is written the day after the game/weekend but since a certain person decided to try and wind me up a little bit on FB today before I got a chance to sit down and take a look at the scoreline. I'm going to perform a pre-emptive. Plus this week is going to be incredibly busy with work and other stuff.
Let's take a look at what my dear old MancScum supporting friend said.
My reply, which I won't quote, since it is my reply is that Arsenal and Arsene have been frighteningly consistent over the past couple of years. It's like a roller coaster ride pretending to be a bobsled. I know there are some who are like, I don't get it. That's perfectly acceptable as it makes sense in my head.
The coaster is on rails, has a definite maximum speed and braking mechanisms in place and nice little seat belts for the big hills... so everything is for the most part not going to get out of control or too scary. The ride is inspected constantly and if it breaks down, maintenance is a radio call away.
In Arsenal terms, we will be in the Champions League and finish in the top 4.
Bobsleds,on the other hand, lack these types of controls, so you never know what you are going to get. It might be a fun exhilarating ride but where is the bottom of the hill, who is on the brakes and what happens when it all goes pear shape? You're not calling bobsled maintenance; you're calling the medic or someone else in the worst case scenario.
In footballing terms, this would be probably most akin to Leeds quite a few seasons ago and maybe even Pompey currently. So, as an Arsenal supporter for way too many years, all I have to say is that this is the way it is currently.
If Arsene decides to leave, so be it. If Fabergas, Van Persie, Arshavin, Rosicky,or insert random player name here, decides to leave, so be it. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west and the Arsenal is still the greatest team the world has ever seen.
I did a double this time and the slightly more tame version of the above can be found at the Pub blog. I just did not feel like giving it all for two this week.
As I will continue, I am not bothered in one bit. I have seen players come and go more times than I can even remember. A once touted golden boy, fucks off to Istanbul the next year. The new Viera (number 2 or 3) breaks a leg and fucks off to god knows where and does fuck all sense. The die-hard Arsenal lad from youth, fucks off to Chelsea for a brand new cellphone with extensive vibrate settings.
I mean, throughout the late 80's and early 90's I could have sworn we were a farm club for Barcelona. It still feels that way at times, but we've won titles and have consistently been top 4 for quite some time.
I know the little devil voice in my head is like, I wish we'd finish 10th but still above Sp*rs, just so the nouveau supporters will fuck off as well. However, I can not always get what I wish for.
This has been a rather lackluster season. Someone pointed out to me in the pub, not sure what day or whom, that whenever the Arsenal were on the precipice of being on top of the league and in control of their destiny, they'd fuck it up.
What is my saying? Something like being able to work wonders in the box but still failing to score. In other words, this is where we stand, looks good but no finish.
In other parts of the league, there was the vain hope that Scousers would be able to do something worthwhile. The pub itself was packed, which was very nice. I was keeping a lower than usual profile, as I had already provoked the gods last weekend and started to press my luck on Friday while having pints with Sheffield.
Unfortunately, by the look of things, it appears Chelski will take the title. It would take a miracle of situations to change their fortune at this point. They've been having quite a tear at the league these last couple of weeks. I can admit this as I have resigned the Arsenal to third a few weeks ago.
My last bit of a scary situation. Scum are only 5 points behind us at the moment. A win would have made for a nice St. Totteringham Monday, but it's not going to be so. Another interesting bit is ManShitty is only a point behind the Scum and play them Mid-week. So here's hoping that Wrighty's son and team can pull one off this time and bury those fahkin prats.
~LeChat
Let's take a look at what my dear old MancScum supporting friend said.
Maybe Arsene really has checked out and is planning to go to Madrid next year. How else do you explain the collapse of The Arse like this?
My reply, which I won't quote, since it is my reply is that Arsenal and Arsene have been frighteningly consistent over the past couple of years. It's like a roller coaster ride pretending to be a bobsled. I know there are some who are like, I don't get it. That's perfectly acceptable as it makes sense in my head.
The coaster is on rails, has a definite maximum speed and braking mechanisms in place and nice little seat belts for the big hills... so everything is for the most part not going to get out of control or too scary. The ride is inspected constantly and if it breaks down, maintenance is a radio call away.
In Arsenal terms, we will be in the Champions League and finish in the top 4.
Bobsleds,on the other hand, lack these types of controls, so you never know what you are going to get. It might be a fun exhilarating ride but where is the bottom of the hill, who is on the brakes and what happens when it all goes pear shape? You're not calling bobsled maintenance; you're calling the medic or someone else in the worst case scenario.
In footballing terms, this would be probably most akin to Leeds quite a few seasons ago and maybe even Pompey currently. So, as an Arsenal supporter for way too many years, all I have to say is that this is the way it is currently.
If Arsene decides to leave, so be it. If Fabergas, Van Persie, Arshavin, Rosicky,or insert random player name here, decides to leave, so be it. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west and the Arsenal is still the greatest team the world has ever seen.
I did a double this time and the slightly more tame version of the above can be found at the Pub blog. I just did not feel like giving it all for two this week.
As I will continue, I am not bothered in one bit. I have seen players come and go more times than I can even remember. A once touted golden boy, fucks off to Istanbul the next year. The new Viera (number 2 or 3) breaks a leg and fucks off to god knows where and does fuck all sense. The die-hard Arsenal lad from youth, fucks off to Chelsea for a brand new cellphone with extensive vibrate settings.
I mean, throughout the late 80's and early 90's I could have sworn we were a farm club for Barcelona. It still feels that way at times, but we've won titles and have consistently been top 4 for quite some time.
I know the little devil voice in my head is like, I wish we'd finish 10th but still above Sp*rs, just so the nouveau supporters will fuck off as well. However, I can not always get what I wish for.
This has been a rather lackluster season. Someone pointed out to me in the pub, not sure what day or whom, that whenever the Arsenal were on the precipice of being on top of the league and in control of their destiny, they'd fuck it up.
What is my saying? Something like being able to work wonders in the box but still failing to score. In other words, this is where we stand, looks good but no finish.
In other parts of the league, there was the vain hope that Scousers would be able to do something worthwhile. The pub itself was packed, which was very nice. I was keeping a lower than usual profile, as I had already provoked the gods last weekend and started to press my luck on Friday while having pints with Sheffield.
Unfortunately, by the look of things, it appears Chelski will take the title. It would take a miracle of situations to change their fortune at this point. They've been having quite a tear at the league these last couple of weeks. I can admit this as I have resigned the Arsenal to third a few weeks ago.
My last bit of a scary situation. Scum are only 5 points behind us at the moment. A win would have made for a nice St. Totteringham Monday, but it's not going to be so. Another interesting bit is ManShitty is only a point behind the Scum and play them Mid-week. So here's hoping that Wrighty's son and team can pull one off this time and bury those fahkin prats.
~LeChat
26 April 2010
Man City HOME
Let's say the day started off well... light... not too many cares in the world. I made an easy one out of it. Headed to the pub for some of the early matches, as usual, with no personal agenda. I caught quite a bit of the MancScum match as they handed the proper Scum a proper beating.
An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.
Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.
So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.
ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.
BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.
I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.
I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.
The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.
~LeChat
An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.
Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.
So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.
ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.
BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.
I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.
I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.
The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.
~LeChat
15 April 2010
Spurs Away
Yes, you are right.
I had tried to push this to the back of my head. Way to the back, back where no one else can find it. I knew something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. I was having a good day, then all of the sudden the bottom dropped out. My wrist started to hurt, my sinuses started to go.
I sat at work with an annoyed agitation. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I just knew it was not going to be good news.
Scum 2 - The Arsenal 1 ... 85 minutes.
The numbers taunted me. I remember looking at my co-worker and not having a clue what she had said. My mind had ventured off to North London and an invisible tear drained out of my eye.
There is losing, then there is losing to Scum.
St. Totteringham day can not come soon enough. My only hope is the rest of the season sees them finishing out of the top 6 but that is highly unlikely at this point in time.
I did make my way to the pub after work. It was a bit of a Ghost Town. Well there were people there but none of the ones that really mattered. I waited along for Sheffield to come up and we had a few pints.
I had settled on the third place finish a couple of weeks ago but still this loss was worst than losing to United and Chelski combined. Now, the Arsenal needs not to bollocks up the rest of the season and maintain an even keel, otherwise the boat is going to sink.
Now to look forward to the Crystal Palace Baltimore opener on Friday. It should be a good time. I know there is a bit of a buzz around the core. Tailgate at 5PM, Game at 7PM at UMBC.
Station, aka my band, also has a show on Saturday evening at the Sidebar. I do hope I get to sing a bit of Who the FUCK are Man United!
~LeChat
I had tried to push this to the back of my head. Way to the back, back where no one else can find it. I knew something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. I was having a good day, then all of the sudden the bottom dropped out. My wrist started to hurt, my sinuses started to go.
I sat at work with an annoyed agitation. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I just knew it was not going to be good news.
Scum 2 - The Arsenal 1 ... 85 minutes.
The numbers taunted me. I remember looking at my co-worker and not having a clue what she had said. My mind had ventured off to North London and an invisible tear drained out of my eye.
There is losing, then there is losing to Scum.
St. Totteringham day can not come soon enough. My only hope is the rest of the season sees them finishing out of the top 6 but that is highly unlikely at this point in time.
I did make my way to the pub after work. It was a bit of a Ghost Town. Well there were people there but none of the ones that really mattered. I waited along for Sheffield to come up and we had a few pints.
I had settled on the third place finish a couple of weeks ago but still this loss was worst than losing to United and Chelski combined. Now, the Arsenal needs not to bollocks up the rest of the season and maintain an even keel, otherwise the boat is going to sink.
Now to look forward to the Crystal Palace Baltimore opener on Friday. It should be a good time. I know there is a bit of a buzz around the core. Tailgate at 5PM, Game at 7PM at UMBC.
Station, aka my band, also has a show on Saturday evening at the Sidebar. I do hope I get to sing a bit of Who the FUCK are Man United!
~LeChat
11 February 2010
Liverpool at Home
Once again the red tide of Scouse has been turned back during a mid-week fixture. As usual, yours truly could not avail himself to witness it at the pub, due to reasons beyond his control and for once, not concerning actually being at work.
Yes, that's right. SNOW BOUND, like a 19th century family trying to get through the Sierra Nevadas with only a few days rations and sick children. Something has got to give and if I have to resort to cannibalism, so be it.
ArsenalTV, however, gave me hope of watching, in shambled fashion, the match. It's sort of like watching a bad security tape or web-cam.
OH there's an image...there's another image...OH WAIT a couple of seconds of movement...
You can see what I am getting at. I do like the commentators though. They are a very insightful lot and the pre-show is kind of nice. They will run the highlights from a previous meeting, which is crystal clear and without all the jumpiness and buffering of the live broadcast. The thing that gets me is how clear the warm-ups are, then the whistle goes off and I'm left with what amounts to 1980's scrambled porn.
In other news, WOLVES bettered the Scum. I like Wolves, well real wolves, not too fond of Wolverhampton but they beat the Scum so that is satisfactory in my book. Mentioning wolves, I remember seeing this thing on Iberian wolves a couple years ago. I had a Siberian Husky at the time and for some reason, it was the only time that she was actually tricked into howling with the wolves on television. Funny thing that was.
Mentioning Iberia, it was one of the few airlines, up until recently that you were still allowed to smoke on. Now I am no smoker but I did find it interesting that it was one of the last holdouts, figuring since it was a Spanish airline and the Spaniards have a considerably different opinion on the issue of smoking in confined spaces.
MENTIONING the Spanish, brings me to this whole thing of not liking Franco or fascist too much in general. Actually, I have a down-right dislike of their sort and so do the Catalunyans.
MENTIONING CATALAN, there resides a little place there called BARCELONA, which houses a great and wonderful team in La Liga that goes by the name FC BARCELONA. Now I do have a fondness of said team, as they have had many dealings with the Arsenal in the past.
So in summation, I do not really care if Cesc leaves to go back to Barca. It is his prerogative. He's a man who has to do a job, just like everyone else. He's currently doing his job well and by all his personal claims, likes his employer. He just wants them to be suc-CESC-ful. Isn't that what we all want, well with differing degrees of who want to be successful?
I think I've said enough today. I need to go unstuck myself and my German machine. So for those in the area, be safe and stay warm.. for those in warmer climes...
FUCK OFF... haha!
~LeChat
Yes, that's right. SNOW BOUND, like a 19th century family trying to get through the Sierra Nevadas with only a few days rations and sick children. Something has got to give and if I have to resort to cannibalism, so be it.
ArsenalTV, however, gave me hope of watching, in shambled fashion, the match. It's sort of like watching a bad security tape or web-cam.
OH there's an image...there's another image...OH WAIT a couple of seconds of movement...
You can see what I am getting at. I do like the commentators though. They are a very insightful lot and the pre-show is kind of nice. They will run the highlights from a previous meeting, which is crystal clear and without all the jumpiness and buffering of the live broadcast. The thing that gets me is how clear the warm-ups are, then the whistle goes off and I'm left with what amounts to 1980's scrambled porn.
In other news, WOLVES bettered the Scum. I like Wolves, well real wolves, not too fond of Wolverhampton but they beat the Scum so that is satisfactory in my book. Mentioning wolves, I remember seeing this thing on Iberian wolves a couple years ago. I had a Siberian Husky at the time and for some reason, it was the only time that she was actually tricked into howling with the wolves on television. Funny thing that was.
Mentioning Iberia, it was one of the few airlines, up until recently that you were still allowed to smoke on. Now I am no smoker but I did find it interesting that it was one of the last holdouts, figuring since it was a Spanish airline and the Spaniards have a considerably different opinion on the issue of smoking in confined spaces.
MENTIONING the Spanish, brings me to this whole thing of not liking Franco or fascist too much in general. Actually, I have a down-right dislike of their sort and so do the Catalunyans.
MENTIONING CATALAN, there resides a little place there called BARCELONA, which houses a great and wonderful team in La Liga that goes by the name FC BARCELONA. Now I do have a fondness of said team, as they have had many dealings with the Arsenal in the past.
So in summation, I do not really care if Cesc leaves to go back to Barca. It is his prerogative. He's a man who has to do a job, just like everyone else. He's currently doing his job well and by all his personal claims, likes his employer. He just wants them to be suc-CESC-ful. Isn't that what we all want, well with differing degrees of who want to be successful?
I think I've said enough today. I need to go unstuck myself and my German machine. So for those in the area, be safe and stay warm.. for those in warmer climes...
FUCK OFF... haha!
~LeChat
25 January 2010
Stoke Away (FA Cup)
Greetings.
Well we all know of the unceremonious exit of the Arsenal from the FACup this weekend by the hands of a very capable Stoke. I can't be ashamed of the loss because it was a hard fought battle of which the scoreline belies.
The pub, however, was full of some interesting happenings this weekend.
Saturday
I entered the pub around 8 or so to be greeted by the smiling Reading fan. There were quite a few of the Chelsea lads in attendance as well. There was a good footballing vibe going on. I took my seat next to Reading and we started discussing the finer points of the match.
ChelskiGirl was stuck in her bed, being lazy. I called her and informed all the lads of such. There were many volunteers who wished to join her but she left her cocoon and joined the rest of us shortly by the half.
Reading and I decided that we were only cheering on underdogs for the rest of the day. We were transfixed to the Accrington Stanley - Fulham match, just because it was more interesting than the Everton - Birmingham tie that was also being shown.
My original plan was to take my leave prior to the end of the match but Leeds was taking on Scum. They had already eliminated MancScum so let's see if they could do the proper Scum.
The pub was still full, much fuller than it had been in the most recent weekends. I was half done with what seemed to be bottomless pints of New Castle, as was Reading. Sheffield and WestBrom pop by and it just continued.
The four of us caught up and chatted, killing time before the Haiti fundraiser. I am still trying to remember if that was even a good idea. All I can say, is some money left my pocket and ended up in the hands of some Scousers.
The event was not at the pub so we did enter some foreign territory. And as followers of the English game, we did what we knew best... found a dart board. The setup was close to the kitchen so the food runners had to keep cutting through. Which at first wasn't that bad but as the night creeped on.
BC/BC bounced up the stairs in the middle of our darts game and I think we all tried to explain it to her but it wasn't working. They also had a Wii, which someone had the brilliant idea of quickly finishing darts and starting Wii-Bowling.
I sat out of that, as I am not biggest fan of bowling to begin with. I believe WestBrom came from behind and beat everyone. It was an enjoyable time. However, like all good things, it had to come to an end.
A Certain Scouser would not believe I was fine. I kept telling her I was just tired, so on the way home I ended up with about 10 text. It would have probably been smarter not to answer all of them but I did.
Safe and sound I found my bed, after about a 12 hour bender, where I believe I ended up more sober by the time I made it home than I started out the day.
SUNDAY
It was to be a short morning, whether or not the result of the match should be considered. My band had to move it's practice space and time, which Sunday afternoon was the final result.
It mattered much not anyway. The Arsenal crew was cynical from the drop of the ball. I think we all had a sneaking suspicion of what type of day it was going to be after the first goal. I have to admit, we are quite a hilarious group even in the midst of a loss. It's been quite some time since we've even sneezed on a trophy, I suppose.
There was a positive side to this all. LittleWill was on his last day before heading back to school. He's a pretty funny kid. We spent a good half hour teasing LittleSister before I had to take my leave.
I guess in summation it was not a bad weekend but not quite a good one. A win would have been nice but now The Arsenal boys can concentrate on the league, which is much more important in my opinion.
The other thing that made the weekend much more pleasurable was being able to spend it with the good folks I have grown to be as close to as members of a large family. There is something unique and special about this football crowd. It may seem insular and strange to an outsider but some of the most generous and open people that I have ever come to know stand beside me on a weekend morning at 8 am swearing at a referee 2000 miles away.
I would not care to be with anyone else but my extended crew.
~LeChat
Well we all know of the unceremonious exit of the Arsenal from the FACup this weekend by the hands of a very capable Stoke. I can't be ashamed of the loss because it was a hard fought battle of which the scoreline belies.
The pub, however, was full of some interesting happenings this weekend.
Saturday
I entered the pub around 8 or so to be greeted by the smiling Reading fan. There were quite a few of the Chelsea lads in attendance as well. There was a good footballing vibe going on. I took my seat next to Reading and we started discussing the finer points of the match.
ChelskiGirl was stuck in her bed, being lazy. I called her and informed all the lads of such. There were many volunteers who wished to join her but she left her cocoon and joined the rest of us shortly by the half.
Reading and I decided that we were only cheering on underdogs for the rest of the day. We were transfixed to the Accrington Stanley - Fulham match, just because it was more interesting than the Everton - Birmingham tie that was also being shown.
My original plan was to take my leave prior to the end of the match but Leeds was taking on Scum. They had already eliminated MancScum so let's see if they could do the proper Scum.
The pub was still full, much fuller than it had been in the most recent weekends. I was half done with what seemed to be bottomless pints of New Castle, as was Reading. Sheffield and WestBrom pop by and it just continued.
The four of us caught up and chatted, killing time before the Haiti fundraiser. I am still trying to remember if that was even a good idea. All I can say, is some money left my pocket and ended up in the hands of some Scousers.
The event was not at the pub so we did enter some foreign territory. And as followers of the English game, we did what we knew best... found a dart board. The setup was close to the kitchen so the food runners had to keep cutting through. Which at first wasn't that bad but as the night creeped on.
BC/BC bounced up the stairs in the middle of our darts game and I think we all tried to explain it to her but it wasn't working. They also had a Wii, which someone had the brilliant idea of quickly finishing darts and starting Wii-Bowling.
I sat out of that, as I am not biggest fan of bowling to begin with. I believe WestBrom came from behind and beat everyone. It was an enjoyable time. However, like all good things, it had to come to an end.
A Certain Scouser would not believe I was fine. I kept telling her I was just tired, so on the way home I ended up with about 10 text. It would have probably been smarter not to answer all of them but I did.
Safe and sound I found my bed, after about a 12 hour bender, where I believe I ended up more sober by the time I made it home than I started out the day.
SUNDAY
It was to be a short morning, whether or not the result of the match should be considered. My band had to move it's practice space and time, which Sunday afternoon was the final result.
It mattered much not anyway. The Arsenal crew was cynical from the drop of the ball. I think we all had a sneaking suspicion of what type of day it was going to be after the first goal. I have to admit, we are quite a hilarious group even in the midst of a loss. It's been quite some time since we've even sneezed on a trophy, I suppose.
There was a positive side to this all. LittleWill was on his last day before heading back to school. He's a pretty funny kid. We spent a good half hour teasing LittleSister before I had to take my leave.
I guess in summation it was not a bad weekend but not quite a good one. A win would have been nice but now The Arsenal boys can concentrate on the league, which is much more important in my opinion.
The other thing that made the weekend much more pleasurable was being able to spend it with the good folks I have grown to be as close to as members of a large family. There is something unique and special about this football crowd. It may seem insular and strange to an outsider but some of the most generous and open people that I have ever come to know stand beside me on a weekend morning at 8 am swearing at a referee 2000 miles away.
I would not care to be with anyone else but my extended crew.
~LeChat
17 December 2009
Burnley Away
DRAW!
Yes I should pull out all my guns on this one. However, as usual, I was working, so I only saw replays. It is not like it matters much, because, from what I understand it was nothing.
I actually enjoy my job. So I really don't mind that I miss these mid-week fixtures at times. The one thing I can say is that my work is never boring. Most of my days, in general, end up in draws.
The crux of my employment is connecting low income people with pro-bono attorneys. While on the surface it doesn't sound hard but it is one of those things you have to experience.
Some of the folks that call in are pretty normal and just ran into a spot of bad luck, like losing to Sunderland. On paper, you should walk all over life but reality is, you dropped the points. You dropped points at the most inopportune time, for whatever reason.
You might blame it on the economy and not having enough to spend. You might blame it on not having the right tools to compete. In the end, it doesn't really matter because now you are in the situation that you are in and it's time to fix it.
Now the normal ones will say, "Hey, I just need a little help. I can get back in the game," or "If I can just get past this," or something along those lines. Those are the people that realize that most of their situation is combination of this bad luck, improper planning or simply being unrealistic and coming to terms with what needs to be done.
So, if that is normal, by my definition, then there must be a non-normal, or as I like to say KORAZIE. Fine, you got me, I've never said anything like that in my life before.
Now crazy comes in all kinds of flavors, just to keep it interesting. I wish I could break it down into digestible slices but at this time I don't think it's possible, but here are a few examples.
Tim "Fucking" Howard - Now Tim is not really crazy, on his own accord but he does suffer from Tourette's or so it's said. This means sometimes he has this little tick thing going on that he can't control. Now Tim Howard crazy is mild, not really his fault, just happens that way. This I feel for because there's not much you can do but deal with it in your own way. Plus, Tim Howard is still great because he knows what's going on and is working with it.
Jens "Mad German" Lehmann - Unpredictable crazy. Poor Jens, you never know what he's going to do next. First he's world class, the kind of bloke you would love to have a beer with, then... he's totally lost the plot, punching people in the face, swearing like an Austrian, drop kicking like an Angry Samoan. This is the kind of crazy I am terrified of because you never know when it's going to kick off.
Sepp Blatter - This is sort of an "out of touch" with reality crazy. Do I really need to explain this one? I mean the man just doesn't have a bloody clue. Typical politican. Another example of this would be Harry Rednapp, who insists that Scum will be a top 4 club. Crazy innit.
Arsene Wenger - I love Arsene. He's one of the best managers around, but you know sometimes, just sometimes, his paranoia even gets to me. I like talking to this type of crazy when they call into my work. As long as you aren't the one who is the "cause" of their issues, they can bring some interesting insights to what is usually just routine to every one else. I welcome this crazy.
The Whole of WALES - Yah, you're not really a real country. Pure delusional, sorry, it's not going to happen, just deal with it and speaking in foreign tongues does you no service. That's like hanging out with Tolkein elves at Ren-fest, just deluded. No one wants to understand you anyways.
Beckham - Another type of delusional. Constantly told he's great and a superstar but when reality comes knocking, he hasn't produced in quite some time. When he does produce, then maybe we can call him great, but until that time, you're not really that good or as good as you used to be. Get used to it.
The list, as I said, can go on and on. I didn't even approach the whole Bellamy thing. However, like I said, just a sampling of the types of crazy I have to deal with on a regular basis.
Anyways, here is to hoping that the wintry mix doesn't ruin a footballers weekend.
~LeChat
Yes I should pull out all my guns on this one. However, as usual, I was working, so I only saw replays. It is not like it matters much, because, from what I understand it was nothing.
I actually enjoy my job. So I really don't mind that I miss these mid-week fixtures at times. The one thing I can say is that my work is never boring. Most of my days, in general, end up in draws.
The crux of my employment is connecting low income people with pro-bono attorneys. While on the surface it doesn't sound hard but it is one of those things you have to experience.
Some of the folks that call in are pretty normal and just ran into a spot of bad luck, like losing to Sunderland. On paper, you should walk all over life but reality is, you dropped the points. You dropped points at the most inopportune time, for whatever reason.
You might blame it on the economy and not having enough to spend. You might blame it on not having the right tools to compete. In the end, it doesn't really matter because now you are in the situation that you are in and it's time to fix it.
Now the normal ones will say, "Hey, I just need a little help. I can get back in the game," or "If I can just get past this," or something along those lines. Those are the people that realize that most of their situation is combination of this bad luck, improper planning or simply being unrealistic and coming to terms with what needs to be done.
So, if that is normal, by my definition, then there must be a non-normal, or as I like to say KORAZIE. Fine, you got me, I've never said anything like that in my life before.
Now crazy comes in all kinds of flavors, just to keep it interesting. I wish I could break it down into digestible slices but at this time I don't think it's possible, but here are a few examples.
Tim "Fucking" Howard - Now Tim is not really crazy, on his own accord but he does suffer from Tourette's or so it's said. This means sometimes he has this little tick thing going on that he can't control. Now Tim Howard crazy is mild, not really his fault, just happens that way. This I feel for because there's not much you can do but deal with it in your own way. Plus, Tim Howard is still great because he knows what's going on and is working with it.
Jens "Mad German" Lehmann - Unpredictable crazy. Poor Jens, you never know what he's going to do next. First he's world class, the kind of bloke you would love to have a beer with, then... he's totally lost the plot, punching people in the face, swearing like an Austrian, drop kicking like an Angry Samoan. This is the kind of crazy I am terrified of because you never know when it's going to kick off.
Sepp Blatter - This is sort of an "out of touch" with reality crazy. Do I really need to explain this one? I mean the man just doesn't have a bloody clue. Typical politican. Another example of this would be Harry Rednapp, who insists that Scum will be a top 4 club. Crazy innit.
Arsene Wenger - I love Arsene. He's one of the best managers around, but you know sometimes, just sometimes, his paranoia even gets to me. I like talking to this type of crazy when they call into my work. As long as you aren't the one who is the "cause" of their issues, they can bring some interesting insights to what is usually just routine to every one else. I welcome this crazy.
The Whole of WALES - Yah, you're not really a real country. Pure delusional, sorry, it's not going to happen, just deal with it and speaking in foreign tongues does you no service. That's like hanging out with Tolkein elves at Ren-fest, just deluded. No one wants to understand you anyways.
Beckham - Another type of delusional. Constantly told he's great and a superstar but when reality comes knocking, he hasn't produced in quite some time. When he does produce, then maybe we can call him great, but until that time, you're not really that good or as good as you used to be. Get used to it.
The list, as I said, can go on and on. I didn't even approach the whole Bellamy thing. However, like I said, just a sampling of the types of crazy I have to deal with on a regular basis.
Anyways, here is to hoping that the wintry mix doesn't ruin a footballers weekend.
~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
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
21 September 2009
WIGAN PIER
Yes apparently The Arsenal know the way. However, it was a home game. DAMN!
Please excuse me, I am having a hard time remembering things right now. Jonfromnextdoor decided to invite me out to have some beers, which led us around the corner to Murphy's and running into P himself. Many shots were had but that is today and I'm not going to write about today.
Saturday was an ok day. I started they day out early, as usual and ran into Shane who shall remain nicknameless, simply because Shane is cool and has a bad ass name, for a scouse loving Irishman.
About halfway through Burnley Sunderland, ArseSaintNick and one of the Manc loving African contingent come in. They were a little loopy to begin with and started on the Heineken. A few after that, Floss and one of the other guys come in. I must admit, those guys are all major funny.
The story goes, 3 of them (minus Floss) were up watching Kenyan rugby all night long and it was someone's birthday as well or something like that. ArseSaintNick explained that a lot of the songs they were singing the other week were actually rugby songs. Then he broke into the chorus of -
I'm in love with the girl next door..... SMELL MY FINGERS!
I still don't know why I find that funny but it just is. ArseSaintNick and I had quite a long conversation about Tanzania and Kenya which was pretty interesting in itself. But his shining moment was when a replay was being played about 10 minutes after the original Burnley goal was scored.
ArseSaintNick jumps up all excited and is screaming about it. Shane keeps repeating the words "Replay, Replay, Replay." And poor HalfArseDean, who was sitting on the other side of Shane had this look of pure confusion. I couldn't help but just to silently laugh about the whole scene.
It took ArseSaintNick about 5 minutes to realize that it wasn't another goal that looked just like the one before. Of course I get blamed for not telling him it was a replay and Shane sits silently chuckling. Good times.
The Arsenal game came on and the pub started to fill up a bit more. Loudmouth showed up but for once, I WILL ADMIT, as well ArseSaintNick attest to, he was actually not too bad this week. He actually made sense. It was a miracle.
LilBlondieGooner made sure she pointed it out that I actually agreed with something that LoudMouthGooner said. She also pointed out that I still haven't come up with a good name for her boyfriend, which I really do need to do. He's a good guy with a broken hand. Apparently he tripped over the cat. HAHA ONE FOR CAT KIND!
Saturday Night
Texting about crappy bands at shows is funny.
Sending facebook messages with Jonfromnextdoor to ChelskiGirl, since she is in London is even funnier.
Getting text from ChelskiGirl about how homesick she is makes me feel bad.
Receiving comments back on facebook about ChelskiGirl wanting to kick Jonfromnextdoor's ass... PRICELESS!
Sunday.... Scum-Shitty
This is was an all time classic game. I really enjoyed it. Sheffield came down and met me, so we sang You Fill Up My Senses at least once. I decided to adjourn to upstairs next door, Jonfromnextdoor was working the bar and the pub was actually crowded with Shitty and Scum supporters.
I will admit. I did have one of the greatest breakfast burritos I have ever had. It was nice to sit next door. It was like having a private VIP view of one of the best matches that I have seen in a long time. I am still trying to get one of those Old Trafford Watches.
Poor, poor ACMilan. He got stuck in a small corner of the pub with a tiny television. It does stink when there is a big derby playing and the pub is sardined but he did get a telly after a bit of bribery, coercion and promises only an Italian football supporter would give.
We all hung around for the true Scum to be dismantled by the BlueScum. The Chelski boys didn't have as great of a showing...they usually do.
Overall Sheffield and I were our usual selves.
Saying all the wrong things at all the right times.
~LeChat
(addendum)
2010WC plans are being made. Barca stopped by, which is always good to see her, and made promises to coordinate. I really do need to be a better at staying in contact with people.
Please excuse me, I am having a hard time remembering things right now. Jonfromnextdoor decided to invite me out to have some beers, which led us around the corner to Murphy's and running into P himself. Many shots were had but that is today and I'm not going to write about today.
Saturday was an ok day. I started they day out early, as usual and ran into Shane who shall remain nicknameless, simply because Shane is cool and has a bad ass name, for a scouse loving Irishman.
About halfway through Burnley Sunderland, ArseSaintNick and one of the Manc loving African contingent come in. They were a little loopy to begin with and started on the Heineken. A few after that, Floss and one of the other guys come in. I must admit, those guys are all major funny.
The story goes, 3 of them (minus Floss) were up watching Kenyan rugby all night long and it was someone's birthday as well or something like that. ArseSaintNick explained that a lot of the songs they were singing the other week were actually rugby songs. Then he broke into the chorus of -
I'm in love with the girl next door..... SMELL MY FINGERS!
I still don't know why I find that funny but it just is. ArseSaintNick and I had quite a long conversation about Tanzania and Kenya which was pretty interesting in itself. But his shining moment was when a replay was being played about 10 minutes after the original Burnley goal was scored.
ArseSaintNick jumps up all excited and is screaming about it. Shane keeps repeating the words "Replay, Replay, Replay." And poor HalfArseDean, who was sitting on the other side of Shane had this look of pure confusion. I couldn't help but just to silently laugh about the whole scene.
It took ArseSaintNick about 5 minutes to realize that it wasn't another goal that looked just like the one before. Of course I get blamed for not telling him it was a replay and Shane sits silently chuckling. Good times.
The Arsenal game came on and the pub started to fill up a bit more. Loudmouth showed up but for once, I WILL ADMIT, as well ArseSaintNick attest to, he was actually not too bad this week. He actually made sense. It was a miracle.
LilBlondieGooner made sure she pointed it out that I actually agreed with something that LoudMouthGooner said. She also pointed out that I still haven't come up with a good name for her boyfriend, which I really do need to do. He's a good guy with a broken hand. Apparently he tripped over the cat. HAHA ONE FOR CAT KIND!
Saturday Night
Texting about crappy bands at shows is funny.
Sending facebook messages with Jonfromnextdoor to ChelskiGirl, since she is in London is even funnier.
Getting text from ChelskiGirl about how homesick she is makes me feel bad.
Receiving comments back on facebook about ChelskiGirl wanting to kick Jonfromnextdoor's ass... PRICELESS!
Sunday.... Scum-Shitty
This is was an all time classic game. I really enjoyed it. Sheffield came down and met me, so we sang You Fill Up My Senses at least once. I decided to adjourn to upstairs next door, Jonfromnextdoor was working the bar and the pub was actually crowded with Shitty and Scum supporters.
I will admit. I did have one of the greatest breakfast burritos I have ever had. It was nice to sit next door. It was like having a private VIP view of one of the best matches that I have seen in a long time. I am still trying to get one of those Old Trafford Watches.
Poor, poor ACMilan. He got stuck in a small corner of the pub with a tiny television. It does stink when there is a big derby playing and the pub is sardined but he did get a telly after a bit of bribery, coercion and promises only an Italian football supporter would give.
We all hung around for the true Scum to be dismantled by the BlueScum. The Chelski boys didn't have as great of a showing...they usually do.
Overall Sheffield and I were our usual selves.
Saying all the wrong things at all the right times.
~LeChat
(addendum)
2010WC plans are being made. Barca stopped by, which is always good to see her, and made promises to coordinate. I really do need to be a better at staying in contact with people.
24 August 2009
Portsmouth at Home
First home of the season for the Arsenal and a decent show it was. The pub was alive with several Gooners, many whom I had only seen on passing occasions. I'd say it was a good 20 strong, which is a pretty decent crowd for our supporters.
I'll also give a nod for Mr. ManCity showing up on his birthday and lending his voice as we sang to the 8 or so MancScum who decided to show up. (I am actually being cordial today for some reason, don't ask why.)
As I began, the day was pretty decent; sun shining, the televisions were working, cool drinks and warm food, no major complaints from the peanuts in the gallery. However, and I should have figured on this one, LoudMouthGooner was his usual loud self.
Honestly, I don't have a problem with someone being loud from time to time but this guy is always, always loud, even for the most simplest points. That's the other end of it though, not only loud but usually very wide of the mark.
I try and ignore it but it is so hard. I usually pipe in with one or two snide comments which for the most part he can't argue with. Now, I'm not Mr. Know-it-all by far but at least I can respect another person's opinion and not have to shout mine own at them. That's so disrespectful but I don't think this guy gets it.
There came an actual point where I had enough and the argument wasn't even mine to be had. I just hated how rude he was coming off and onto a fellow Gooner. Then the brainiac started trying to come after me, overtalking and just being loud. So I do what I normally do in these situations.
I get up off my seat, walk over calmly and speak in a more hushed tone. A skill learned in customer service, someone yelling and being unreasonable, you speak quietly and slowly. This tends to throw them off and make them speak more softly.
First I corrected him on calling me an American supporter, sorry but not a big fan of Sam's Army, didn't grow up as one, never have been one, doubt I will ever be one. He backed down from the shouty rhetoric he was espousing and gave what appeared to be an apology. After which I gave him my stance on the issue and tell him how if the guy wants to speak about such and such player, then let him have his say, calm it down. Maybe in not so many words but my point was made. It was just disrespectful and that's the last thing I want to see.
Apparently, a lot more people noticed this exchange than I thought. LoudMouthGooner isn't making many friends, even amongst his own. I guess he feels he is part of something but he's alienating the very people who would include him in that something.
I headed back home for a cookout for my little cousin and decided that the weather was a little too warm. The reality was that I was being called back to the pub to meet up with ACMilan. I got to admit, one of the coolest people at the pub. He usually watches his games by himself, surrounded by the late afternoon meathead/douchebag crowd.
"Oh man, What's this? Soccer?"
"I played soccer when I was younger."
"Is this the World Cup?"
"Did you see that U.S game? That was great, wasn't it?"
I had told him before I would come out to a few games and I was feeling a need for some more football. I drop into the pub and we grab a couple of seats at the bar, order some drinks. ChelskiGirl pops in for a bit and has a Magners before going off to do her Chelski things in her Chelski world. (Barbie Girl reference if you missed it, not that she is one but that song just popped into my head.)
Meanwhile, ACMilan and I are discussing the finer points of Italian performance art surrounded by a football match, when the random guy beside me starts blurting out players names... at random.
This goes on for a while and we can't figure out if he's serious, "special" or drunk. ACMilan leans over at one point and goes "I think everyone has one of those fans. I guess this one is mine." Which is a shame since it really is just him and now this guy. The contempt on his face for this guy was classic. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, mind you I'm sitting right next to the guy, between the two of them.
The end result was uneventful. The guy was actually wearing a Milan t-shirt with a player's name and number on the back. I can't remember who but that was a surprise and I hadn't noticed it before. I told ACMilan that I would show up for the derby next week after the Arsenal - ManU game.
I make my way down the street and at the bar next door I notice two of the more recent Arsenal converts having a couple of beers. They both head over to the bistro and I don't see them too often, so I decided to stop and say a quick hello. As usual with the Bistro Boys, they try and get me to come over for a game and how great of a place it is and how they open special for the Arsenal games.
My retort was the usual; PUB is HOME... When no one else was showing the games, they were... If I want to see FCButtcrack vs. CalcioJockitch, they will open for it... I have my loyalties.
They seem to understand but were plying hard for me to come over to the Bistro with; People are wondering where you are... they have cheap prices.. there are a ton of Arsenal supporters.
At the end of it all, we agreed to call it a draw. I can't do it, plain and simple.
Sunday - Funday had the Chelski match on. I decided to show up just to harass their lot of course. They do have a fun group of supporters. GrumpyGooner was also there so I had someone to voice my contempt with. There was one lonely Fulham fan, poor guy. We tried to lend him our support but he looked really nervous in that sea of blue. He did manage a nervous grin and head nod every now and again, Good on him for showing up and supporting his squad.
Oh and bloody Tottenham won. Bloody fahkin Spurs and their two mysterious supporters who show up. These guys are weird and not just for being Spurs fans. Just weird. An unexplainable weird which reminds me of the Catherine Tate sketch.
Monday - I did not watch the Liverpool match. I will not mention anything about that. I did however see the TallGeordie at Song's. He works near where I work, so I thanked him for letting me in line at the Chelski-Milan match and we had a short conversation about our prospective seasons. After which I offered him a Coca-Cola and we had a laugh.
It's kind of fun, taking it out of someone away from the pub and in a normal environment. The people around you have no idea what's going on and why offering someone a Coca-Cola is funny to the two pretty normal looking guys dressed in button ups and slacks.
One other quick good fortune happened today, the household television picks up GolTV. I don't understand how but I guess it's part of the standard cable package now, since the DTV upgrade. There was also some channel showing Bolton WanderersTV. I still haven't figured out exactly what channel it is because it only shows the cable company's logo at the bottom. Should probably spring for digital cable but I don't even watch television enough to even care.
C'est la vie.
~LeChat
I'll also give a nod for Mr. ManCity showing up on his birthday and lending his voice as we sang to the 8 or so MancScum who decided to show up. (I am actually being cordial today for some reason, don't ask why.)
As I began, the day was pretty decent; sun shining, the televisions were working, cool drinks and warm food, no major complaints from the peanuts in the gallery. However, and I should have figured on this one, LoudMouthGooner was his usual loud self.
Honestly, I don't have a problem with someone being loud from time to time but this guy is always, always loud, even for the most simplest points. That's the other end of it though, not only loud but usually very wide of the mark.
I try and ignore it but it is so hard. I usually pipe in with one or two snide comments which for the most part he can't argue with. Now, I'm not Mr. Know-it-all by far but at least I can respect another person's opinion and not have to shout mine own at them. That's so disrespectful but I don't think this guy gets it.
There came an actual point where I had enough and the argument wasn't even mine to be had. I just hated how rude he was coming off and onto a fellow Gooner. Then the brainiac started trying to come after me, overtalking and just being loud. So I do what I normally do in these situations.
I get up off my seat, walk over calmly and speak in a more hushed tone. A skill learned in customer service, someone yelling and being unreasonable, you speak quietly and slowly. This tends to throw them off and make them speak more softly.
First I corrected him on calling me an American supporter, sorry but not a big fan of Sam's Army, didn't grow up as one, never have been one, doubt I will ever be one. He backed down from the shouty rhetoric he was espousing and gave what appeared to be an apology. After which I gave him my stance on the issue and tell him how if the guy wants to speak about such and such player, then let him have his say, calm it down. Maybe in not so many words but my point was made. It was just disrespectful and that's the last thing I want to see.
Apparently, a lot more people noticed this exchange than I thought. LoudMouthGooner isn't making many friends, even amongst his own. I guess he feels he is part of something but he's alienating the very people who would include him in that something.
I headed back home for a cookout for my little cousin and decided that the weather was a little too warm. The reality was that I was being called back to the pub to meet up with ACMilan. I got to admit, one of the coolest people at the pub. He usually watches his games by himself, surrounded by the late afternoon meathead/douchebag crowd.
"Oh man, What's this? Soccer?"
"I played soccer when I was younger."
"Is this the World Cup?"
"Did you see that U.S game? That was great, wasn't it?"
I had told him before I would come out to a few games and I was feeling a need for some more football. I drop into the pub and we grab a couple of seats at the bar, order some drinks. ChelskiGirl pops in for a bit and has a Magners before going off to do her Chelski things in her Chelski world. (Barbie Girl reference if you missed it, not that she is one but that song just popped into my head.)
Meanwhile, ACMilan and I are discussing the finer points of Italian performance art surrounded by a football match, when the random guy beside me starts blurting out players names... at random.
This goes on for a while and we can't figure out if he's serious, "special" or drunk. ACMilan leans over at one point and goes "I think everyone has one of those fans. I guess this one is mine." Which is a shame since it really is just him and now this guy. The contempt on his face for this guy was classic. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, mind you I'm sitting right next to the guy, between the two of them.
The end result was uneventful. The guy was actually wearing a Milan t-shirt with a player's name and number on the back. I can't remember who but that was a surprise and I hadn't noticed it before. I told ACMilan that I would show up for the derby next week after the Arsenal - ManU game.
I make my way down the street and at the bar next door I notice two of the more recent Arsenal converts having a couple of beers. They both head over to the bistro and I don't see them too often, so I decided to stop and say a quick hello. As usual with the Bistro Boys, they try and get me to come over for a game and how great of a place it is and how they open special for the Arsenal games.
My retort was the usual; PUB is HOME... When no one else was showing the games, they were... If I want to see FCButtcrack vs. CalcioJockitch, they will open for it... I have my loyalties.
They seem to understand but were plying hard for me to come over to the Bistro with; People are wondering where you are... they have cheap prices.. there are a ton of Arsenal supporters.
At the end of it all, we agreed to call it a draw. I can't do it, plain and simple.
Sunday - Funday had the Chelski match on. I decided to show up just to harass their lot of course. They do have a fun group of supporters. GrumpyGooner was also there so I had someone to voice my contempt with. There was one lonely Fulham fan, poor guy. We tried to lend him our support but he looked really nervous in that sea of blue. He did manage a nervous grin and head nod every now and again, Good on him for showing up and supporting his squad.
Oh and bloody Tottenham won. Bloody fahkin Spurs and their two mysterious supporters who show up. These guys are weird and not just for being Spurs fans. Just weird. An unexplainable weird which reminds me of the Catherine Tate sketch.
Monday - I did not watch the Liverpool match. I will not mention anything about that. I did however see the TallGeordie at Song's. He works near where I work, so I thanked him for letting me in line at the Chelski-Milan match and we had a short conversation about our prospective seasons. After which I offered him a Coca-Cola and we had a laugh.
It's kind of fun, taking it out of someone away from the pub and in a normal environment. The people around you have no idea what's going on and why offering someone a Coca-Cola is funny to the two pretty normal looking guys dressed in button ups and slacks.
One other quick good fortune happened today, the household television picks up GolTV. I don't understand how but I guess it's part of the standard cable package now, since the DTV upgrade. There was also some channel showing Bolton WanderersTV. I still haven't figured out exactly what channel it is because it only shows the cable company's logo at the bottom. Should probably spring for digital cable but I don't even watch television enough to even care.
C'est la vie.
~LeChat
19 August 2009
Champions League - Celtic Away
Well if you haven't figured, I usually give myself a day or so to let things set in, this being no different. This way I can sort through the random chaos of what transpired and come up with something a little more like jello. It may shake, it may jiggle but damnit there's always room for more.
I don't get a good chance to see mid-weeks unless they are on delay and due to the Internet-Ban at work during working hours, I can't even get the play by play any longer. It has crossed my mind to just flaunt the ban and hope for the best but you know I can wait.
Patience is a virtue that I truly do possess.
I've been a Gooner since 85-86.
So I could truly dazzle you with stories of bankruptcies, foreclosures and weird telephone calls from bizarre clients; The insurmountable stack of papers and files that reside on my desk; The blind taste test of the old style envelope glue versus the new style envelope glue, but I don't want to overwhelm you.
Match report says: Celtic were shit.
I am truly surprised to tell you the truth. It is odd just reading match reports. You get so used to having a look at the match, at least thanks to the wonderful world of cable and satellite, that you forget how important it is for match reports to convey the spirit of the game.
My usual spot for a bit of reading the action is the Guardian UK. It isn't for the actual reportage but for the bits of nonsense that surround the reportage. It's sort of like being in the pub, because of all the bits of nonsense.
Now for the real surprise of today. As you may know Burnley just defeated MancScum, which is all well and good. The real surprise is... and I hate to say it...
FAHKIN SPURS ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE!
Ok I am going to go off myself.
I know. I know. I KNOW. It's only the second game of the season but this is like saying ManShitty or Villa are a big club. I just feel dirty.
I got this terrible headache around 4:00PM today. I kept blaming it on the new carpet that they were putting down in the office but now I know the planets were misaligned and Pluto just got smacked by an asteroid.
Now I truly understand that sickening feeling...
A rather overwhelming sickening feeling.
*vomit*
Pardon me.
~LeChat
I don't get a good chance to see mid-weeks unless they are on delay and due to the Internet-Ban at work during working hours, I can't even get the play by play any longer. It has crossed my mind to just flaunt the ban and hope for the best but you know I can wait.
Patience is a virtue that I truly do possess.
I've been a Gooner since 85-86.
So I could truly dazzle you with stories of bankruptcies, foreclosures and weird telephone calls from bizarre clients; The insurmountable stack of papers and files that reside on my desk; The blind taste test of the old style envelope glue versus the new style envelope glue, but I don't want to overwhelm you.
Match report says: Celtic were shit.
I am truly surprised to tell you the truth. It is odd just reading match reports. You get so used to having a look at the match, at least thanks to the wonderful world of cable and satellite, that you forget how important it is for match reports to convey the spirit of the game.
My usual spot for a bit of reading the action is the Guardian UK. It isn't for the actual reportage but for the bits of nonsense that surround the reportage. It's sort of like being in the pub, because of all the bits of nonsense.
Now for the real surprise of today. As you may know Burnley just defeated MancScum, which is all well and good. The real surprise is... and I hate to say it...
FAHKIN SPURS ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE!
Ok I am going to go off myself.
I know. I know. I KNOW. It's only the second game of the season but this is like saying ManShitty or Villa are a big club. I just feel dirty.
I got this terrible headache around 4:00PM today. I kept blaming it on the new carpet that they were putting down in the office but now I know the planets were misaligned and Pluto just got smacked by an asteroid.
Now I truly understand that sickening feeling...
A rather overwhelming sickening feeling.
*vomit*
Pardon me.
~LeChat
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