Thursday, June 25, 2009

Pitch perfect

Oh, yeah.

That's how you say "GOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!" in English, suckas.

But lest I sound too jingoistic, let me assure you that I went into the match expecting a Spain-administered bloodbath. And throughout, I kept thinking to myself, the defense is just playing TOO well. So at the end of 93 minutes, the score seemed a bit surreal.

I'll tell you something else surreal: being taken to a Filippino nightclub to celebrate.

"Open Arms," as performed by five dancing girls and a dude with a bleached mohawk.

Then I went home and realized that my sheets and pillowcases, which I had washed during the day, were still hanging out to dry... on the balcony outside my roommate's bedroom. But I guess sleeping fully clothed (the A/C gets quite chilly at night) on a bare mattress is a small price to pay for a glorious victory and the opportunity to teach my British friends how to properly chest-bump.

1 comment:

Karl Smith said...

Less of your celebratin'; Soccer is the Enemy of Freedom. Which must be why us Commie Yuropeans like it so much. (OK, not me, obv.)