The pain of being sober at a football match and other pish
Hello dear fiends!
I hope you are all in tip top condition!
But enough about you. After sleeping for twelve hours, I'm still tired. How is that fair? Anyway, today I thought I'd drop by and tell you some tales of dragons, adventure, buxom maidens and treasure. Unfortunately, although my life is so full of dragon-based happenings that they've become tedious, there have been scant few instances of adventure, buxom maidens or treasure in the last couple of weeks, so I'll just stick to the usual template of nonsense.
Starting with the gosh darned infuriating, you may recall a month or so ago me writing that my new headphones had broken after a few weeks, and then the kerfuffle to get new ones. In brief, rather than replacing them, the shop said they had to send them to Milan to get them fixed, and so if I waited for a mere month, they'd be returned to me, all shiny and working. Said month passed, I dropped by the shop yesterday, and after a bit of hanging about, the guy told me that actually they could just exchange them then and there.
You. Are. Fecking. Kidding. Me. No?!
Knowing fine well that this wasn't the guy in the shops fault, and generally being a bit of a relaxed character, I didn't explode into an incandescent funk, as per my Shopper's Rights but instead said thank you and took my nice new headphones away. Seriously though, Italy has some truly terrible customer service.
At the weekend the Glorious Genoa played the match-fixing, referee bullying, cretin-filled Juventus. In fairness (and after this sentence, there will be none more afforded them), they are not the only team guilty of those adjectives in Italy. But still, for me they are the most odious of the scumbags. Despite having been convicted of bribing and intimidating officials for years, they seem to have a complex that everyone's out to get them. On Sunday they called a media silence in protest at having a goal chopped off that was marginally offside, while at the other end there were two clear penalties not given to the aforementioned Glorious Genoa. Perhaps looking for impartiality and level-headedness in football is my mistake, but still, they have no class at all. We played truly terribly to boot, devoid of imagination, grinta or speed. It's still a bit away, but my joy at slagging off Doriani will be tempered if we go down..... Still, at least there might be a derby next year.
To round off a day of poor football and horrible away supporters, I was sober. Stone cold sober. Not a drop of alcohol had been embraced by my lips in at least 12 hours. It's been years since this has been allowed to happen, and with Marco Rossi as my witness, shall not happen again in a long time!
I was speaking with a private student last week who asked me with some incredulity if there were bullies at school in Scotland. He told me that at his school there were none, so either he is the bully, or they just don't have them here. This came as quite a surprise, as although bullying is obviously a bad thing, it could also be character building. So now at the start of our lessons I give him a playful dead leg and steal his lunch money. He's a nice wee guy, so I'm actually doing him a favour. He'll thank me in the future.
A few times over the last couple of weeks some people have asked me with concern what I''ve been thinking about, as apparently I've been quietly gurning to myself. In truth, I have been chewing over some pretty big stuff, like: why do the Glorious Genoa have Marino as coach; what would I look like with a moustache; and, what is the correct punctuation to use in this sentence. I didn't realise I was making a face at the same time, though. But it would seem that I look worried when I mull over these defining subjects de nos jours. And just so you know, the answers I've come up with are:
1) the President wants a patsy as coach
2) amazing
3) still don't know
So, my birthday is fast approaching, and in that spirit I have finalised my birthday presents to myself. They are, in no particular order: an electric/acoustic guitar, a weekend in Granada, and tattoos. Everything has been organised and booked up re the last two, while I am now in possession of my guitar! It is truly a thing of beauty. Here's a photo. :)
I think I might call it Carl, if you can figure out why, you're as sad as I am.
It's not my birthday for another 3 weeks, but it is who controls my wallet, so I thought bugger it and bought it early. Patience is a very important thing when you teach, and in this respect I'm pretty good, but when it comes to new toys, I have less restraint than a maniac on the run and sans straitjacket. I would be a terrible Catholic, as I just cannot wait. Anyhow, now I have my guitar, I'm going to try and record some stuff and pop it up here. This is entirely dependent on me mastering the recording software I've downloaded, as I tried to sync it all the other day and only succeeded in buggering up the audio settings on my computer. Still, everyone loves a trier, and if there's one thing you'd probably all agree on, God knows I'm trying.
On that imaginary drum fill,
Happy St Paddy's Day and Mother's Day tomorrow!
Bye byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I hope you are all in tip top condition!
But enough about you. After sleeping for twelve hours, I'm still tired. How is that fair? Anyway, today I thought I'd drop by and tell you some tales of dragons, adventure, buxom maidens and treasure. Unfortunately, although my life is so full of dragon-based happenings that they've become tedious, there have been scant few instances of adventure, buxom maidens or treasure in the last couple of weeks, so I'll just stick to the usual template of nonsense.
Starting with the gosh darned infuriating, you may recall a month or so ago me writing that my new headphones had broken after a few weeks, and then the kerfuffle to get new ones. In brief, rather than replacing them, the shop said they had to send them to Milan to get them fixed, and so if I waited for a mere month, they'd be returned to me, all shiny and working. Said month passed, I dropped by the shop yesterday, and after a bit of hanging about, the guy told me that actually they could just exchange them then and there.
You. Are. Fecking. Kidding. Me. No?!
Knowing fine well that this wasn't the guy in the shops fault, and generally being a bit of a relaxed character, I didn't explode into an incandescent funk, as per my Shopper's Rights but instead said thank you and took my nice new headphones away. Seriously though, Italy has some truly terrible customer service.
At the weekend the Glorious Genoa played the match-fixing, referee bullying, cretin-filled Juventus. In fairness (and after this sentence, there will be none more afforded them), they are not the only team guilty of those adjectives in Italy. But still, for me they are the most odious of the scumbags. Despite having been convicted of bribing and intimidating officials for years, they seem to have a complex that everyone's out to get them. On Sunday they called a media silence in protest at having a goal chopped off that was marginally offside, while at the other end there were two clear penalties not given to the aforementioned Glorious Genoa. Perhaps looking for impartiality and level-headedness in football is my mistake, but still, they have no class at all. We played truly terribly to boot, devoid of imagination, grinta or speed. It's still a bit away, but my joy at slagging off Doriani will be tempered if we go down..... Still, at least there might be a derby next year.
To round off a day of poor football and horrible away supporters, I was sober. Stone cold sober. Not a drop of alcohol had been embraced by my lips in at least 12 hours. It's been years since this has been allowed to happen, and with Marco Rossi as my witness, shall not happen again in a long time!
I was speaking with a private student last week who asked me with some incredulity if there were bullies at school in Scotland. He told me that at his school there were none, so either he is the bully, or they just don't have them here. This came as quite a surprise, as although bullying is obviously a bad thing, it could also be character building. So now at the start of our lessons I give him a playful dead leg and steal his lunch money. He's a nice wee guy, so I'm actually doing him a favour. He'll thank me in the future.
A few times over the last couple of weeks some people have asked me with concern what I''ve been thinking about, as apparently I've been quietly gurning to myself. In truth, I have been chewing over some pretty big stuff, like: why do the Glorious Genoa have Marino as coach; what would I look like with a moustache; and, what is the correct punctuation to use in this sentence. I didn't realise I was making a face at the same time, though. But it would seem that I look worried when I mull over these defining subjects de nos jours. And just so you know, the answers I've come up with are:
1) the President wants a patsy as coach
2) amazing
3) still don't know
So, my birthday is fast approaching, and in that spirit I have finalised my birthday presents to myself. They are, in no particular order: an electric/acoustic guitar, a weekend in Granada, and tattoos. Everything has been organised and booked up re the last two, while I am now in possession of my guitar! It is truly a thing of beauty. Here's a photo. :)
I think I might call it Carl, if you can figure out why, you're as sad as I am.
It's not my birthday for another 3 weeks, but it is who controls my wallet, so I thought bugger it and bought it early. Patience is a very important thing when you teach, and in this respect I'm pretty good, but when it comes to new toys, I have less restraint than a maniac on the run and sans straitjacket. I would be a terrible Catholic, as I just cannot wait. Anyhow, now I have my guitar, I'm going to try and record some stuff and pop it up here. This is entirely dependent on me mastering the recording software I've downloaded, as I tried to sync it all the other day and only succeeded in buggering up the audio settings on my computer. Still, everyone loves a trier, and if there's one thing you'd probably all agree on, God knows I'm trying.
On that imaginary drum fill,
Happy St Paddy's Day and Mother's Day tomorrow!
Bye byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
posted by michael | 02:58
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