I miss that little guy
Do you know, ever since I started watching/talking about soccer, people have been abandoning my diary like rats from a sinking ship. Well good riddance, I say. Run, you wussy cowards--I'm about to say some soccer things!
Just a few words about the match we watched last night, if I may: Chelsea vs. Everton and oh my Dog what a good game that was! First of all, tons of head injuries. AWESOME. Secondly, it was a David and Goliath kind of matchup, what with Chelsea at the top of the standings--having up til then steamrolled over all opponents--and Everton at the bottom. Everton didn't win, so it wasn't a total hootenanny, but it was a 1-1 tie which was almost as good as a win. HA-ha, Chelsea! The current worst team in the league forced you into a tie! That said, I have to confess I really love watching Chelsea play. I officially hate them for having a ho-jillionaire owner who can buy any hot-shit player he wants, but because they have all the best players, they're pretty good watching material. Therefore, the Chelsea/Everton match was the best of both worlds, since I also love it when the little guy triumphs. Brings a tear to the eye, it does.
Songs of the Day:
Wolf Parade -- Dinner Bells, at Rock Insider.
Rumbleseat -- California Burritos, at Black Balloon.
Monkey Swallows the Universe -- Beautiful Never, at Indie MP3.
I don't have a real entry again today, because work is boring (which is Good, don't get me wrong) and I've been kind of tired this week, which leads to post-work laziness, which leads to not having any good stories to tell. But can I say something serious for a second? Not serious as in I have a brain cloud and have 2 weeks to live, but serious as in earnest and not making jokes. [I sense people fleeing--go on, then! We don't need you!] I just want to say that this has been an excellent year, so far, for coming to terms with things like the mistakes I've made in the past, and whittling down my 3 a.m. Slideshow of Horrors and Embarrassing Moments to a manageable level. This "mental work" [kill me now, I MEAN it, I am sickened for having said that and for using quote marks for dog sake] has mostly involved hippy pass-the-patchouli-oil visualization stuff, but it's stuff I've invented on my own, so I don't feel part of some kind of fad that's sweeping the nation so much as privately a little bit unhinged. I didn't think it was so unusual, the visualization stuff I've been doing, until I started describing to Francisco what my brain looks like on the inside and my method of inner-brain travel and how I get to the chemical room and what that looks like and how I can reset my stress levels and stuff like that. He was, shall we say, nonplussed. Whatever, he's just jealous of my brain's three room walk-in clothes closet. Anyway, that's enough of that--I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm feeling pretty happy. The End.
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