Showing posts with label footie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label footie. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

SORROW


Crooning on my STEREO:
If I Aint Got You by ALICIA KEYS

As of this morning, my heart hath been shattered.

You know, it is that sort of screeching pain that grazes across those running artileries that enter your corazon.

Right now,

I am in despair.

I am in agony.

I am in utter PAIN.

And this painstaking bitterness is too familiar.
Some may even have to go through it more than TEN times. What poor things.

Or in my case, TWICE within 6 months. TWICE.


FIRST, IT WAS ARSENAL .

And now,


SPAIN IS OUT.


Fuck the world.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Return In Peace


Crooning on my STEREO:
We Be Burnin' by SEAN PAUL

It is funny how my illness has kept me away from the gym for 2 weeks, robbed 10 shades off my tan and turned me into a reluctant omnivore. Not to mention the sudden withdrawal of daily alcohol from my system has transformed me into some sort of nervous wreck in a desperate need for rehabilitation. In this course of recovery, the lack of protein adds to my lethargy, and this means that I've been sleeping through 30% of the World Cup matches played so far. I even drove my car into a ditch.

THAT SUCKS

In the midst of all that sick slumber, I noticed a pretty cool headgear:



Want one for yourself?

EASY.

You can get a similar net from your local fruit store.
Place it over your head.
One size fits all.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

World Cup FEVER

Crooning on my STEREO: Malo by BEBE

I am typing this bedridden. No, really. I mean, YES, REALLY.

It is painful. I can't EAT. I CANT TALK. I CANT DRINK. I CANT HEAR. I CANT WATCH THE TELLY WITHOUT NAUSEA POISONING MY HEAD.

I am paralysed.

I haven't had a slab of steak in THREE DAYS. I haven't drank a plain ol' glass of water without yelling like a yeti every morning.

IT IS FUCKING PAINFUL, OKAY?

England is playing tonight and I am hospitalised in my room overdosed on painkillers. In fact, I have been sleeping for the past three days and I could barely keep my eyes open for the Germany match. I can imagine all my friends bawling it out at Souled Out with endless pints of Guinness WITHOUT ME.

Guess what? Today Doc told me there it will probably take at least another week before my life returns back to normal. She then gave me an extra boost of antibiotics on my BUM. And I probably have to keep doing so until that godforsaken sore goes away. And everyday, I have to wake up to the fact that I CANT EAT, I CANT TALK, I CANT DRINK, I CANT HEAR AND I CANT PLAY FUTSAL WITH MY DOGS ANYMORE.

I AM IN PAIN

And instead of wishing that the boy i fancy will eventually return my unrequited love or that friend who suddenly turned cold towards me will explain his reasons... I DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THESE JERKS ANYMORE.

There is only one thing I ask,

I WANT MY HEALTH BACK

Sunday, May 22, 2005

The LONGEST Soccer Match and the LONGEST Eurovision.

Crooning on my STEREO: Formula One V10 Engines by KIMI RAIKKONEN.
Good news: The "DEPRESSED LYN-SAGA" is officially over. I got rather sick of fishing for sympathy.*

You all expect me to POP champagne and CELEBRATE.

Frankly, yesterday's FA Cup Final was the MOST AGONISING match I've ever watched in my life. Not only was it frigging LONG and PISSING OFF. I had to ENDURE two hours witnessing UGLY BEASTS OUTPLAYING GORGEOUS MEN.

Trust me, that is something REAL HARD for ME to do.

First of all, ARSENAL was S.H.I.T beyond belief. By the 42nd minute, I was already ON MY KNEES BEGGING for a MAN UTD GOAL** so as to end my MISERY of watching my team skip around the field rather than PLAY REAL FOOTIE. Arsenal played shit. FULL STOP.
Secondly, JENS LEHMANN kicked ASS. That SUCKS because Arsenal will have aboslultely NO EXCUSE to buy IKER CASILLAS from Real Madrid.
Last but but NOT grudgingly least, JOSE ANTONIO REYES WAS SENT OFF FOR A FOUL ON CHRISTIANO RONALDO out of the 11 beasts to choose from. He could have tripped him to DEATH for all I care.


Yes. You're seeing what I'm seeing...
A few hours later, I watched the 50th EUROVISION FINALS.
Another worthwhile contribution to my migraine, this was another FREAKING LONG affair. I've been following this song contest for 4 YEARS and every year it gets more RIDICULOUS. In a hilarious way, I mean, or else i wouldn't follow it. However this year felt particularly draggy because it was, quite simply, crap. Many joked that they should rename the show BALKANVISION SONG CONTEST since 70% of the entrants represented Balkan states.
This year, 95% of the contestants were WOMEN with PUSH UP BRAS. 50% of the songs SOUNDED THE SAME. I wonder if they were all written by the same songwriter. If you listened carefully, you might have noticed that most of the entries' lyrics contained words like 'Fire' and 'Desire'.. (corny). Mountain music was regarded a sure-winner for this year's contest... think Holly Vallance's remake of KISS KISS with fastbeat jungle percussion and manic sitars, APPRERENTLY PEOPLE WILL VOTE FOR YOU. Its supposed to be CATCHY. Costumes aren't cheesy anymore. Everyone (including the men) was going for SKiMPY and SUFFOCATING LYCRA to win your votes.

The Norwegian entry painstakingly STOOD OUT. I almost PASSED OUT as soon as I saw GLAM ROCKERS climbing onto the stage....

GREECE WON

Tires me to explain further.

--------------------------------------
Footnotes
*Well my moods are improving... but working on a film project with some wonderful people this weekend did lift me up... thanks to Kris, Vivianne and Caroline, you guys were fab!

**To Man U fans: ME PRAISING FERGUSON'S ANIMAL FARM is as RARE as me wandering in obscure tube stations with a RED TYPEWRITER. Better savour this MIRACULOUS moment while it lasts..... and yes, I DID walk around with a TYPEWRTER, it was bizarre but fun in a Buñuel way!!!

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

The Unresolved VAN Mystery

Crooning on my STEREO: PARA LLENARME DE TI by RAMON

Today I received a phonecall which spells the return of my zest for life. And of course, when I am in brilliant mood I can't help but to PICK on SOMETHING. (or SOMEONE at the very least)

This blog examines the VAN mystery. Girls SWOON over this hunk. Female 'soccer' fans WORSHIP his SEX APPEAL.

No, we are NOT talking about KAKA. You wish!



FIRSTLY, this man does not TALK. He ROARS.
ROARS so much you'd assume he's got bio/animal genetics.


Eh??? I thought I saw this lardy truck driver at Hog's Head last week.
Nice townie Nike classic gym outfit.
Sipping on orange juice makes him so MACHO.


How paedophillic. Trying ooze his sex appeal on innocent young children.
I see MICHAEL JACKSON ......


Travelling First Class in this classy outfit.
Come on girls, go SWOON over your SEXY man.


I am really sorry, but i am getting very bad vibes from this picture.
Leave it to your imagination: 'There's something about Mary.....'


If you cant get enough of ONE, there are always TWO.

Can someone solve this biological equation,
MONKEY+ DONKEY/MOOSE/HORSE = ?


Saturday, November 20, 2004

Why Fashion and Football cannot mix.

Today I received the latest Arsenal catalogue in my pigeonhole.

Here we have Robert Pires trying to sell you a bomber jacket for forty two quid.
Firstly, the bomber jacket looks like a bin liner. Secondly, WE, as consumers, are 'supposedly' lured by this greasy Bollywood actor who somewhat reminds us of that fake designer conman lurking in the backlanes of Camden Town. RING A BELL??


Oh dear, whats with this sickly enthusiasm? Is this some sort of chemotherapy costume?
Gone were those triumphant days of Freddie's 'come sleep with me' Calvin Klein G-string campaign. COME BUY THIS UNWASHED STALE PYJAMAS FOR ONLY 20 quid.


I am not sure what he is trying to sell here... Colgate? Sunshine Health campaign? Or a secondhand Arsenal training jumper dating back to 1886? Whatever it is, the whole package costs a whopping 32quid.


This jumper squeezes your internal organs to flatter your body figure. And those JEANS....I have the SAME pair but in a much larger size! ARE MEN GETTING SMALLER OR WHAT?!???


Boxers! Three sexy colours (especially the tartan one) guaranteed to charm your women to DEATH. ALL YOURS FOR ONLY 10 QUID


This is the saving grace. BESTSELLER OF THE SEASON, but only limited to ONE lucky customer. Price on application.
But, then again, I am not too sure about those urchin green trousers....

Sorry, while stock lasts.....

Friday, October 29, 2004

Post Match Bitterness... Cont'd

Found some classic explanatory diagrams today.







Caption says 'RUUD SHOWED WAYNE AROUND HIS NEW HOME'

Very..very appropriate...
and comforting.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

If only Jose Antonio Reyes played for Spain. If only.  Posted by Hello

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Drink Football, Eat Football, Sleep Football

Symptoms of Euro 2004 fever.
(Based on a personal diagnosis.)


a)You begin every conversation with ANY HUMAN (friends, postman, kebab boy, taxi driver, bin collector, etc) with, 'Did you watch the country A vs country B match??'

b)You spend an average of 4 hours in the local pub every day, watching consecutive Euro matches from 5pm till 9pm.

c)You emerge as a laddish hooligan. You throw glass beer bottles at jubilant fans of the rival team which has just gathered 3 points.

d)If you are a girl, you find yourself roaring like a disgrunted dinosaur every time a good attacking cross is manouvered. Your interest on vanity issues, such as Raul's waxed legs, dramatically diminishes.

e)When your team is trailing a loss of 0-5, you binge drink expired ale and nourish your lungs with a year's supply of nicotine.

f)Without much thought, you dump your girlfriend who hogs the telly watching Big Brother.

g)For one month, you are the godsent patriot. Your daily wardrobe consists of St. George t-shirts, national flags as sarongs and headgear proclaiming radical nationalism.

h)Lardbrokes becomes your favourite pre-match haunt.

i)Your mood swings like a pendulum and your friends are cautious of you. They can more or less predict when to approach you depending on match scores.
Your mobile is strangely quiet when your team has just conceded a goal.

j)You make friends with bald beer-bellied England supporters in dodgy bars. You also share the same table as townies in pubs. Yet you do not complain.

k)You live on chips and burgers.

L)You swear and curse so much that everyone thinks you have Tourette's disease.

M)Mp3 playing on loop on your Winamp- 'Lightning Seed's 'Football's coming Home......'