The Instantaneous Visit of the Karma Boomerang
I should have known better.
I had to put it out in the universe that I love the quiet ways of The Pet Shop Boys and I couldn't stop there, now could I? Made a toast to party poopers and declared a national Holiday, didn't I? Fabulous.
Well that came back and hit me right in the back of my head at three am this morning when I discovered a party in our living room. Ok, not so much in our living room as in the park across the street, but it sounded like it was in our living room. A well liquored party of Icelanders still celebrating the magnificent & historical football victory over Italy on Wednesday.
For those of you who accidentally might think that I am referring to American football; no. I am referring to the sport known as soccer in the US.
How on earth can you call it American football when feet have so very little to do with it? Feet? Where? Where are the feet? The fact that they use their feet to run away from men with gigantic shoulder pads represents the foot part?
From what I have seen it is mostly men throwing themselves on top of each other. Seriously, it isn't even a ball; it is a slightly rounded zeppelin-shaped object.
In real football you not only use your feet to run away from men & women wearing knee-highs and odd hair styles, but you have to kick the ball in front of you at the same time.
In real football you get penalized for touching the ball with your hands, unlike American football where you hug the ball like it's your grandma.
Wednesday August 18th, on the 218th birthday of Reykjavik, Iceland sent the Italian team home with a 2-0 loss. Those of you familiar with football will know how significant a victory that was. Iceland has many good individual players such as Eidur Smari Gudjohnsen but nonetheless Iceland has never made it to the European Championships, never mind World Championships. Italy always does.
I love the game cause you don't get to see that many good looking guys in shorts that often...wait, I mean I watch it for the love of the game...
The Karma fairy made sure to remind me that I don't always prefer peace and quiet. For example when people throw a party in what may as well be our living room because they are celebrating a triumph in Icelandic football history, I don't mind their un-quiet ways.
However, the sleep deprivation has left me dumber than a door knob. I still can't figure out how to blogroll and link list.
I had to put it out in the universe that I love the quiet ways of The Pet Shop Boys and I couldn't stop there, now could I? Made a toast to party poopers and declared a national Holiday, didn't I? Fabulous.
Well that came back and hit me right in the back of my head at three am this morning when I discovered a party in our living room. Ok, not so much in our living room as in the park across the street, but it sounded like it was in our living room. A well liquored party of Icelanders still celebrating the magnificent & historical football victory over Italy on Wednesday.
For those of you who accidentally might think that I am referring to American football; no. I am referring to the sport known as soccer in the US.
How on earth can you call it American football when feet have so very little to do with it? Feet? Where? Where are the feet? The fact that they use their feet to run away from men with gigantic shoulder pads represents the foot part?
From what I have seen it is mostly men throwing themselves on top of each other. Seriously, it isn't even a ball; it is a slightly rounded zeppelin-shaped object.
In real football you not only use your feet to run away from men & women wearing knee-highs and odd hair styles, but you have to kick the ball in front of you at the same time.
In real football you get penalized for touching the ball with your hands, unlike American football where you hug the ball like it's your grandma.
Wednesday August 18th, on the 218th birthday of Reykjavik, Iceland sent the Italian team home with a 2-0 loss. Those of you familiar with football will know how significant a victory that was. Iceland has many good individual players such as Eidur Smari Gudjohnsen but nonetheless Iceland has never made it to the European Championships, never mind World Championships. Italy always does.
I love the game cause you don't get to see that many good looking guys in shorts that often...wait, I mean I watch it for the love of the game...
The Karma fairy made sure to remind me that I don't always prefer peace and quiet. For example when people throw a party in what may as well be our living room because they are celebrating a triumph in Icelandic football history, I don't mind their un-quiet ways.
However, the sleep deprivation has left me dumber than a door knob. I still can't figure out how to blogroll and link list.
posted by disinterpreter at 9:34 AM
4 Comments:
There are Americans who do know and love real football for its, well ... foot-i-ness. Of course, I had to marry someone from HONDURAS to come to this remarkable conclusion. Let's just say that in this household, there is no force in the world that can separate us from the TV during any major cup matches. Enjoy the victory, Iceland doesn't get the kudos very often!
Luckily I'm married to an american who grew up playing "soccer"- and judging by yourself, Ethan Zahn and Mia Hamm, our plans for total world domination will soon be complete- muahahah (evil villain laughter).
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