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Sunday, June 19, 2005

drat


another weekend has disappeared. i reckon i'd like 3 day weekends.i don't live to work, i work to party, and buy toys...

saturday was good.

after, eventually, draggin myself out of bed, i fronted up at my mate's house who i'm babysitting for. and i offer them a lift to their yacht so they don't have to worry about their car. next thing i know, i've screwed up the timing and i'm doing 140kph in their car back to their house, so i can get my car with my soccer gear in it, and get me and me brother (who i've already warned and who is already kitted up and ready to go) to the game on time.

we made it with 10 mins to spare, which was a bit less than i liked. but one thing in my favour. after our last miserable performance, i begged the captain coach to make everyone play a bit of a 5 on 5 game of possession before the game, which they did. that may or may not have been the contributing factor, but we played the best mother fucking game we've played so far. everyone had fun, ran into space, and despite playing hard, we were a whole lot less worn out than usual.

until the last 90 seconds, we were 1-0 winning, then our keeper fucked up and toe punted the ball to one of their strikers. i scramble my arse and try to get in the way but he does an awesome kick, which the keeper manages to push up onto the crossbar, only for the other striker to kick in. dumb. fucking. luck. our dudes go all out and miss out by inches getting a goal in the next 45 seconds. if they'd played with that intensity for the first half, with the fun that we'd had, we'd have monstered them. well maybe :-) hindsight is a wonderful thing...

kicking and giggling... i love it.

stayed up late with the kids surfing austar. what do you know, 40 fucking channels, nothing on. doh!

sleep in.

tonight was a little wierd though. this dude turned up at the rsl club and asked if he could join us. whatever, pull up a seat dude. he's got an accent, turns out he's from northern ireland. been working in the united states, and south africa. and he's yarping on and on, ad nauseaum about how good we aussies are. i'm like whatever, no better than anywhere else dude. he repeated some crap about how good he was at uni and stuff (like I care)

a big dude and his missus, who've been drinking with us, are already leaving. me mate who's leaving says no worries dude, it's not up to me (if you join the party) cause i'm outta here. and this guy goes on about big guys not needing to be polite, and i say that big guys are usually the most polite, got nothing to prove, while little guys often get the whole "small man's syndrome" and are cranky.

so he's going on and on about how good we aussies are, gibber gibber.

and i give him the parable thingy

there's these two dudes (they can be dudettes, no worries). they meet in between two villages, travelling in opposite directions. one dudette says to the other. "what were the villagers like at the last village?". the other responds, "well, it depends, what were the people like in the last village you visited?" implying that if you were a cranky fuck, you'd meet cranky fuckers at the next village, and if you were a polite happy traveller, you'd generally (GENERALLY) meet nice happy people at the next village.

next thing i know, this prick has switched poles. aussies are the worst pricks in the universe, we all suck. his ex-wife psycho (secret police if you believe) has set him up and fucked him up for everything. he's going home to northern ireland. he's been humiliated and abused, called a child molester and a whole bunch of other shit.

the worst thing is, i'm only hearing it outta his mouth, but i'm thinking he's got enough loose screws that he could be michael jackson's brother.

i think i've played enough "be nice to the idiot tourist (even if he's been here for 30 years) for one night" so i'm outta here. "woh! look at that dude, everyone else is goin, so i'm, like, outta here. hope you have fun back in ireland". i'm anticipating a whole lot less fun than he had here though. sure he'll fit in with his accent, but an unhappy fucker, in a centre of shit-just-waiting-to-happen is just a recipe for disaster.

whinging fucking poms. they give the rest of them a bad name.

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