The Great Soccer Debate

Yes, in South Africa we call football 'soccer'. And there's virtually nothing you can do about it.

All that aside, if there's one thing that riles up the boys in my group of friends, it's soccer.

Look at this debate a bunch of them (and one girl) had over email today.

It covers so many opinions and thoughts about soccer from so many different angles - and from both sexes - it's almost Pulitzer Prize winning. ;) I took the liberty of putting all their thoughts together to write a column-style piece that they can claim as their own. (Don't ever say I don't use my friends as inspiration...)

The Great Soccer Debate
By Bimamindrea

Yesterday's England versus Germany match was amazing; definitely the most action packed and entertaining game yet.

Having said that, the match was probably more amazing for those who aren't English.

Question for you, England team. Where the hell was your defence? Sipping tea behind the stadium? I mean, for gin's sake, your team was beaten by what some would describe as an under par German team. By four points!

Despite the three-goal-ahead setback, Lampard's near attempt at scoring a goal from 34 metres away was impressive. Although Germany did play well, I believe the final score should have been 4-2. After all, if the goal had counted, the outcome would have been entirely different.

Let's break it down like an Englishman might, shall we? Apart from two superb textbook counter-attacks from Germany, England dominated the attack. The fact that they were caught short in defence four times has to hurt. Whatever the case, the fact of the matter is that the England team was never complete. Take a misfiring striker with no one to partner him, add an injured captain, two second-choice defenders and rumours of arguments in the camp and you've got a recipe for disaster - and an A-choice topic for sour losers to harp on.

Now, let's play the devil's advocate and take it from the point of view of someone that's closer to Germany - or married to a Swiss. Even if England did score the infamous (non) second goal, it would not have changed the fact the Muller scored twice. So, the England team was attacking, but perhaps they weren't following through enough.

Having said all this, the way a team plays at 2-2 is very different to the way they might play being a goal down. Perhaps the England team would have played a more structured game had they scored the second goal, instead of committing too many people forward to attempt a goal and level the scores.

Whatever the case, there's another question that's just begging to be asked. Aren't these men professional soccer players? Keeping in mind that they earn exorbitant amounts of money and have endless chances to excel playing against other top-notch players from around the globe, isn't it time they pulled a few tricks out of the bag and justified their salaries?

It's not just England. Look at the high-schoolesque antics of this year's FIFA in general; French in-fighting, Green messing up because of his personal relationships, the soccer ball being labelled as 'misshapen'. The list goes on.

The only thing England can do now is hope that Germany doesn't rant about the win for as long as England did after the World Cup in 1966; meaning 44 years. Perhaps its time England stop believing its own hype, realise it's an average team that wasn't good enough to compete with bigger teams and hire some bigger players. Like Lionel Messi.

To all those humiliated and disappointed English fans, pucker up. There's always 2014.

Moving without Travelling

Microsoft is launching the new Microsoft Kinect for XBOX 360 on November 4!Wooh hooh!

You might wonder what the hell that has to do with you?
Well, if you don't like having a good time using your hands and the television, then nothing. (That could be interpreted in an entirely different way but I swear it's meant to be innocent...)

The Microsoft Kinect for the XBOX 360 is yet another wonder-whizz of technology that's gonna encourage people to get their bodies active but never leave the house.
Whether that's a good or bad thing is debatable, but the fact is, Microsoft Kinect looks fun!

Basically, the Kinect - previously known as Project Natal - is like the Wii, but doesn't have any external controllers. In other words, you are the controller and play the game with your full body. (That means real jumps and kicks and punches...)

Although the Kinect seems pretty out there in terms of technology, I have to say that its marketing is quite blah. Check out the "you-are-SO-unique" ploy they pull in the paragraph below.

"Kinect™ for Xbox 360® has a collection of games to suit any style of play. There are games for dancers and games for racers. There are games for animal lovers and games for treasure hunters. Each one is special because it’s designed to get you off the couch and into the game. Oh, and before we forget, Kinect games are designed for full body play, so each one is as unique as the person playing them. Yep, that means you."

(*Vomits*)

Despite the marketing schmultz, the Kinect looks like it's going to be good. To check out the trailer, visit http://www.xbox.com/en-US/kinect/games.htm

Got baggage?

So we've all got baggage. No, not baggage like "oh my god my life is crap, I've got baggage", I mean airport baggage.



Unless you've never flown (which is really crappy - give me a call and I might buy you a ticket somewhere close by) then you've no doubt packed a suitcase and sent it on its merry way along a conveyor belt, and then (hopefully) picked it up again on another conveyor belt.

So, because most of us are Baggage People (sing to the tune of Depeche Mode's Damaged People) here are some weird facts/stories about all things baggage from around the globe.

1.) If you have ever lost your baggage, you might want to catch another flight and see if your items are standing on a shelf at the Unclaimed Baggage Centre in Scottsboro, Alabama. That's a store the size of a city block selling the contents of baggage that's been lost (and remained unclaimed after some time).

2.) There's an Unclaimed Baggage Centre Museum. Items (not for sale) include Hoggle, David Bowie's dwarf-goblin minion from the 1986 film Labyrinth and a violin from the 1770s.

3.) A mummified falcon, a shrunken head and bunch of other Egyptian artifcats dating back to the 1500s were once found in an old Gucci suitcase. Christie's auction house were said to have sold the items in the 80s. (I wonder if that included the Gucci suitcase?)

4.) A live rattle snake was once found roaming amongst other unclaimed baggage. Yikes.



5.) A naval guideance system worth about $250,ooo was once found and never claimed. Apparently the people from the Unclaimed Baggage Centre returned it to the navy.

6.) A Barbie doll stuffed with $500 notes. Now that is one bimbo I wouldn't mind taking home with me.

7.) A full replica of a 19th century suit of armour. WTF?

8.) A 5.8 carat diamond which was set in a platinum ring and wrapped in a sock.

9.) A camera designed for use on a NASA space shuttle. No price was mentioned, but the dudes from the Unclaimed Baggage Centre took it back to NASA.

10.) A woman stopped at a baggage counter in Munich was found by officials to be carrying the skeletal remains of her brother. She claimed she was on her way from Brazil (where her brother was from) to Italy, to bury her brother who had asked her - while still alive 11 years ago - to bury him there.

11.) A passenger in Bakersfield, California was found with five soda bottles filled with honey which somehow tested positive for traces of explosives. The guys carrying it were later let off though. Sweet. (Sorry, I had to.)

Now, the thing I really want to know is, what are the Unclaimed Baggage Centre staff not telling us? I wonder, when faced with things like that sparkly diamond, if people working at the centre have nicked stuff here and there. Mmm. Perhaps I need to apply for a position there.....

Roadkill and Turkey Balls

So I am at work waiting for feedback on documents that need approval and to keep myself busy I decide to look up some quirky/insane festivals. This is what I find....

Roadkill Cookoff - You need a strong stomach for this feastival (see what I did there?). True flippin story. The Roadkill Cookoff is an event held in America (where else, right?) and features meals made of, well, good old tenderised meat fresh off the tar. Gulp. Dishes include 'Rigormortis Bear' and 'Thumper meets Bumper'. There's even a 'Miss Roadkill Queen' pageant. Sounds like the setting of a Quinton Tarantino film.

The Testicle Festival - To all you men out there, you are probably going to get a teste-cross reading this, so cross your legs now for safe measure. The testicle festival is a place where people cum together (sorry, I had to) to gorge on peeled, beer-marinated, crumbed and deep fried bull balls, also known as Rocky Mountain Oysters. I guess this isn't that strange considering many warriors of old would eat bull balls before battle. You know, for extra oomph. Or something. But what is strange, is the annual Turkey Testicle Festival where 120 pounds (about 54.5kg) of turkey balls sell out to ravenous crowds. Apparently the little guys' guys look like "little popcorn shrimp and taste like chicken".

Well that's all from me today.
Enjoy your weekend and have a ball. Ahem.

Broken telephone = Broken tummy

This is going to be a short one because I just got home - early - from work and I have a ton of work to do. (Hence the word work - doh!)

Why am I home early, you wonder? No, I did not forget my mobile at home, no I did not win a car that is being delivered and I am not on leave. I came home early because I think I have mild food poisoning. Trust me, if I kept going to the loo as much as I was doing at work this morning, my colleagues would start thinking I had a drug problem.
Damn it all! Just my luck! (And it's only my first week!)

I had a profound moment this week. Or so I thought. In fact it was this illusory profound moment that caused the cramps and pain I am feeling right now.
I kept seeing the word Olive everywhere.
I thought this could mean only one of two things:
1.) That the universe was demanding "Oh! Live!"
2.) That I needed dirty martinis.

So, last night, it being the South Africa vs France match (we kicked frog leg ass by the way!), I went to Observatory and had dirty martinis and watched the match.
Now I have food poisoning.

I know it was the damn martinis because my husband and a friend who was with us also has a bad stomach today! DAMN MARTINIS! So, it turns out the universe was not telling me to "Oh! Live!" or drink martinis or anything deep or philosophical.
What it was actually saying was: "Stay away from olives you stupid woman!"
Doh!

Lesson: The universe also has broken telephone.

I'm heading to bed to do my work and - hopefully - feel better soon.

Love is a funny thing; in all ways. It’s funny like “ha-ha” and it’s funny like “that looks odd”. Sometimes, when I think about the weird sh** that happens when it comes to matters of the heart, I think the wonderful Italian word amore should be changed to anomore. Yes, sometimes that would be much more appropriate. Especially when it comes to ‘Bad Love’. And when I say bad love I don’t mean like Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance. I mean baaaaad luuuurve.

Bad love is that most disastrous of all things emotional. In fact, bad love is so horrendous, it’s comparable to getting your hair stuck in the dryer, then burning the top of your palate and lips with hot tomato and finally, shocking yourself on the kettle.

Bad love is when you feel like you’re dying with flu and your beloved simply farts, rolls over and changes the channel when you tell them how wretched you feel.

Bad love is when you have a full day of meetings at work and when you need your love to pick up the dog from the vet, your significant other says he or she can’t because he/she is “meeting friends for drinks”.

But, the worst bad love of all – the tripping-off-the-balcony or falling-flat-on-your-face-at-a-party kind of love – is the one where you beloved tells you they’re leaving you for someone else.

That happened to a friend of mine recently. Whatever the reasons behind the split, she and all her friends know she’ll come out of it better at the end, but the fact of the matter is, it’s still super smoking cracking bad love that makes your eyes swell up and hair fall flat.

The thing is bad love can happen to anyone. Money, power, success and shiny shoes will not – I repeat, will not – save you from bad love: Tiger Woods boning everyone but poor Elin Nordegren, Tommy Lee kicking Pamela and her Double DDs, Meg Ryan bonking Russel Crowe while she was still married. Tut tut tut.

If you’ve ever had a dose of bad love, it’s important to know that some people have had it way, way, way worse.

I mean, you could have received the “original” love letter copied and pasted below. Damn. Damn Dan. What a dumb damn Dan. (This has been on the net before so you might have already seen it...)

Anyway, because I am feeling so passionate about Bad Love at the moment, I’ve started a Facebook Group called 'Anomore: Down with Bad Love!'. Join it. Let’s fight this evil beast together!

Send me your worst/best Bad Love stories - serious or funny, simple or complex - and I will pop them up on here. (I won't mention your name if you don't want me to. Just alert me to the fact though...)
Send them to angela.hundal@gmail.com

Hope to chat soon!

The "original" love letter

Dear Connie ,

I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride has cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.

Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says “There’s no one like you, Connie.” I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation.

She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn’t believe and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial.

What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’m never really thought of that before.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’m tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.

Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story.

Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy.”

Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is. So we’re doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry.

And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fuelled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you. It’s true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can.

If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.

Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is.

Love, Dan

Should we be concerned

"Should we be concerned with a textually active youth becoming so intexticated that it ends up poking someone it shouldn't and - soon after - has to update its status as positive?"