Monthly Archive
Browsing entries posted on May 2005
f87ketty f87ketty f87k
It’s been a long week, a long and f87kery week. I like the swearing but I can’t bring myself to put “f**k” up on my blog, so it’ll have to be l33t-speak. What a totally f87ked-up week. As I was composing blog posts in my head, it sounded like I was high on crack or some other potent drug. I can’t remember half my thoughts that I wanted to blog. F87k. But you all know I don’t do drugs, I ain’t got no money and no supplier either. I came up with a set of equations:
No money + no supplier = no drugs
Money + no supplier = shopping
No money + supplier = trouble
Probably in this state of mind cos the book I’m currently reading (Ethan Hawke’s ‘Ash Wednesday’) has the main character doing meth. It sounds like a nice drug to try, non-addictive and not many side effects, although it busts your nasal blood vessels, apparently. I have no experience of it. What I know, I read from sixthseal.com.
I was kinda disturbed when I read sixthseal.com. Not because there’s an underground recreational drug user commmunity in Malaysia, but because NO ONE TOLD ME about it. I felt like I was back in school, being the nerd whom no one ever told gossip to. It makes me feel so left out. Sniffle. F87k.
Anyway, I’ve been studying all week for my driving theory test. I guess it kinda paid off, I got 50/50. Tralala. Nothing special to be proud of, the important thing is that I passed. It was quite f87ked up cos I was supposed to take it on Friday, but their server was down, so I had to go back today. I left the house at bleeping 8 am and didn’t take the exam until nearly 10. Then after that I had to wait for my instructor until nearly 12. What. The. Hell. I gave up shopping for this? And then I had to sit in on a 3-hour lecture on things I kinda already knew. Is it any wonder I was falling asleep?
The maid has left for home so we’re left to wash our own dishes and laundry, and feed the dog and clean up after him. Shit. (Quite literally.) But I don’t really mind, as long as I still have time to go for driving lessons and play my Harvest Moon game.
I didn’t want to blog about the Champions League final because I didn’t want to taint my memory of it. It was so perfect. It’s a memory I’ll treasure all my life, and even if heroes like Dudek and Smicer leave, it doesn’t erase the fact that they were on that team. They made half a million Liverpudlian dreams come true, and who knows how many more across the globe. Is that why we pay them so much? Because they make dreams come true? Not a bad price to pay, then.
I was observing the clothes worn by the girls and women at the driving institute. It could have been just the dress code, but boy, were they ugly. A couple in particular stood out. There was a girl wearing a T-shirt with “F**k” emblazoned on the front and back. And she was wearing a wristband. Now, honey, I know you’re trying to emulate Avril Lavigne or some other punk-girl, but that look is so old. Plus it’s sooooo vulgar to put the swear word on your person. It’s not cool and rebellious. It’s stupid and tasteless. Ugh! Talk about trying too hard. *rolleyes*
The other one probably couldn’t help her size, but I think she could have helped dressing in a giant T-shirt that wasn’t at all kind to her. She looked washed-out, like she couldn’t give a damn at all about how she looked. I mean, thank you for not putting your pudgy fat on display, darling, but would it kill you to wear a more feminine shirt? My personal rule is not to go out in T-shirts with hems that go beyond my hips. Because then they are no longer T-shirts, they are pajamas.
Sometimes I hate being in Malaysia. The puritanism has invaded every aspect of our lives. Why can’t I wear a miniskirt? I’m not Muslim. I demand the right to wear my miniskirt in public. If you men can’t control your lust, too bad. My 6-footer boyfriend will just have to fight you off, aided by my pepper spray. Idiotic male chauvinist f87kers who have such a narrow view of women AND men. Just cos they get hard at the slightest view of cleavage, doesn’t mean the rest of the male population is the same.
And I’ve been f87king ghetto-cised in my own country. My family and I were at Carrefour, and my mum needed to pick up some luncheon meat. It was not to be found in the canned food section. We figured it was in what I called the “porky section”. We walked all the way to the other end of the HYPERmarket to the little non-halal section. And after we purchased the luncheon meat, it was heat-sealed in its plastic bag. What, will the non-halal germies escape into the air and pollute it? Ok lar, I think it’s actually to prevent shoplifting, but still… I did not like it. I know it’s necessary to separate the non-halal food from the rest of the products. I think it was the walking that did it. Jaya Jusco separates its non-halal section as well, but their floor arrangement is such that you end up walking through the whole supermarket and the non-halal section is the logical stop at the end, just before the cashiers. (At least, it is a stop if you eat pork.)
F87k it Lynn, stop complaining. At least you know where to find your pork for sure. Perhaps Agagooga’s Anti-Halal manifesto has finally rooted itself in my brain. Ooh. Now I feel like wearing my little skirt out and causing a scandal of sorts. I’m sure the chiffon skirts so beloved of Singaporean girls and heavily admired by the likes of Cowboy Caleb has not yet made its mark here.
The closest thing I saw to the typical Arts girl look was a girl wearing a mishmash of 80’s and Japanese street fashion. She had on a halter over a tube top, and two wildly unbalanced ponytails secured with neon green scrunchies. (Er, not that Arts girls wear their hair like that.) Her skirt was the only real link, it was the pleated kind I see a lot of on campus. Only it was denim and not frayed at the hem. The funniest thing was, she was apparently shopping with her family. My gosh, how long did they have to wait for her to do herself up? If I had been her mother, I’d have told her to wear something sensible. No way would I be seen in public with something that outrageous. But then I’ve always fancied I’m secretly a WASP.
I miss my friends. EHOCer(s) reading this, have fun!
Sell me a Nintendo!
I’m thinking of getting a Nintendo GameBoy Advance SP to play Harvest Moon on.
If anyone has one to sell me, let me know. My budget is about 130-150 Singapore dollars, or about 300-350 Malaysian ringgit.
Even better if you want to include the Harvest Moon game “Friends of Mineral Town”. I don’t want other games, just that. I’m very niffy about original game cartridges.
If you think there are issues with the SP that I should be aware of, tell me. My cousin has one and it’s okay so far.
Thank you!
Sexing Singapore Up
The recent spate of articles about blogging which appeared in the Straits Times have got me worried. I’m not jealous of Mr Miyagi’s mug appearing on Sunday. I can’t be bothered to be covered by a paper for which I have little respect. It just seems uncanny that the focus on outspoken bloggers (a greater emphasis than Digital Life’s featured blog) comes hot on the heels of the IR and ‘global buzz’ thing.
It’s as though they’re trying so hard to show that there is life, that there are non-mainstream thinkers and writers in Singapore. But I also sense a certain veiled threat along the lines of “We know you’re out there. We know who you are. We’re watching you.” Call me sinister, but that’s the vibe I’m getting.
Even the ‘global buzz’ thing irks me. Just like the efforts to teach creativity, trying to create a ‘buzz’ in your city is a noble but not very fruitful effort. New York doesn’t get its buzz through government-sponsored initiatives. The artists, the financial moguls, even the (criminal) muggers (not the studying ones) are what gives New York its flavour. 20 years on, my mum still remembers vividly the 2 months she spent living there. She told me to go stay there if I ever got a chance. I don’t think she had government-created ‘buzz’ in mind. And I don’t think Harajuku street culture was started by the Japanese government with its famous bureaucracy.
You can say I’m just a foreigner from an inferior country who’s biting the hand that gives her a tuition grant. Allow me, then, to make an analogy.
If the world was a classroom, Malaysia would be the slacker who never hands in her homework unless ordered to by the teacher, and even then it’d be a half-hearted effort. But this slacker isn’t incompetent. She refuses to hang out with the rich, powerful posse, preferring instead to keep her own counsel. She brings together the “average Joes” of the classroom because she knows there is strength in numbers, even if you are individually insignificant. In other words, she’s not academically great and she’s indisciplined to boot, but she dares to speak out.
Singapore, due to her small size, is always afraid of getting bullied by bigger countries. It’s been a hard life without resources, but she utilised the one thing she had - brains - to make herself stand out. Until recently, brains was all she had, but she’s getting a makeover now. She’s trying new vices while keeping in mind the perils of addiction. She is, basically, trying to “sex herself up”.
I just think she’s trying too hard. She’s going to the other extreme of “happeningness” and the earnestness makes me cringe. Especially since it’s all so forced.
You can sex yourself up but you can’t make others like you.
Surprise!
Some things you’d be surprised to know about me:
- My voice is lower than you’d expect a bimbo’s voice to be. That’s why the choir head put me in the alto section, I could hit lower notes.
- I had terrapins when I was in primary school. They died out one by one, starting with the smallest, and finally the largest one which I named Benny. I didn’t have any pets after that until I got my dog.
- I have never dissected a warm-blooded animal.
- I don’t drink coffee because of the caffeine, but I do drink very strong Chinese tea.
- I detest Starbucks and will only patronise The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.
- I have never gone fishing.
- I didn’t learn to ride a bike till I was 11, and I didn’t learn to swim till I was 13.
- I turned down an invitation to Mensa because I didn’t see the point of paying 80 bucks a year to join a society I had no interest in. I only took the IQ test to find out my IQ.
- I still use the same filofax my father bought for me when I was 11.
- I don’t know the names of some of my nieces and nephews.
- I have never slapped another girl.
- I once tried out for the cheerleading squad when I was 15 and nerdy.
- I love broccoli.
Of maids and moths
Today my family took our maid out for dinner. She is leaving for home this Friday, after having been with us for 5 years. She’s been home before lar, did you think we were slave drivers? But after this, we’re getting another maid, while she tries to persuade her husband to let her come back to Malaysia and work for my aunt, who has a sick child and a coming grandchild to handle.
My mum took her to KLCC park, a piece of landscaped grassland adjoining the famous Twin Towers of Kuala Lumpur (known locally as the jagung, or ears of corn) to take pictures. I mean, if you don’t have anything else to remember KL by, at least you got to see the world’s tallest twins. They were gone for ages. My sis and I were done observing Avenue K, a very posh shopping place, had finished singing along to the radio and my dad was so sick of waiting he turned off the ignition. Then he switched it back on when it got too warm. And we waited some more.
Eventually they showed up. Apparently the maid’s shoes chose this day to fall apart on her, so they had to go buy another pair. D’oh. We went to Victoria Station for dinner. This place serves steaks. Whether or not they’re any good, I leave that to my boyfriend to answer. I eat. I digest. If the food doesn’t make me sick, it’s good. I had a milkshake too, yay. It had a cute presentation but I’m too lazy to upload it now.
My mum ordered the maid a sizzling steak, since it is kinda interesting to someone who’s never tried it. I had a medium filet steak. 2 years ago, I would have asked for it to be well done, like my dad likes his. But I learned from my betters (i.e. boyfriend) and learned to eat it medium. It was good and tender. My sister, pig that she is, had a seafood platter. She had the same thing last week at another restaurant! Honestly! She goes to a steakhouse, and she orders seafood. Hmph. She got to have lobster, though. I said that if she fell into the sea and was drowning, none of the sea creatures would save her, not even the dolphins. My mum added that the crabs and lobsters would pinch her for having eaten so many of their kind. Yes. That is the kind of joke we tell in my family.
We went back to the shopping centre at KLCC to buy suitcases, since the maid needs one, and mine (2 of them) keep breaking apart. I’m so sick of the fabric ones. I got a hard case instead. I had a choice of pink, purple, light blue, dark blue and black. Guess which one I chose? Hehehe. Look, the other colours didn’t reflect my personality adequately. And pink is soooo my thing. People will take one look at the suitcase and know it’s mine. And if I go on a flight, no one will steal it off the luggage carousel. It practically screams “BIMBO!!!”
On our way out of the shopping centre, we saw moths. Many many moths. They were clinging on to the pillars, dotting the facade, and littering the walkways. Some of them were barely hanging on against the wind, poor fragile creatures. One was overturned. I flipped it back onto its legs, and watched it struggle against the gusts of wind. My sister calls that our good deed of the day.
And today’s special save-smile is for Jose Antonio Reyes, who got sent off, poor thing. It didn’t look like a foul to me *shrugs* although I do sympathise with the Man Utd supporters, it’s difficult to lose a final on penalties. I think Jose Antonio Reyes is really cute, and has lovely broad shoulders and nice sharp features. He’s cuter than Cesc Fabregas, I think. (Cesc’s being only 18 may have something to do with my opinion.) Only thing is Reyes has a barrel chest. Bleah.
Today’s REAL smile is for my boyfriend, who gets to celebrate many happy things tomorrow, and is a real sweetheart who remembers everything I tell him (except spellings of words). Smile! You are the chosen one!
Blogster wish list
This is a list of things I would like to see/experience that is related to my blogging experience.
1. I would like, no, love, no, absolutely die for the chance to meet Cowboy Caleb in person. Preferably at a nice quiet bar of some sort so that he can enjoy his liquor and I can pretend to be sophisticated while nursing a Mai Tai. He’s Secret Agent Man, so meeting him in person would be like hanging out with Batman. And also because I have so many things to ask him (a sample of which is below).
When did you come to Singapore?
Were you an Asean scholar? (I have my suspicions about him.)
How did you meet your gf? (He is currently, er, committed.)
And Cowboy Caleb, don’t cheat by answering the questions in the comments. I am saving them for when I finally meet you.
And I don’t mean that I want to meet him now, or in 10 years (when he’s busy raising kids), or in 20 years (when he’s busy raising teenagers), but maybe in 30 years (after the kids have grown up). What the hell, my kids will be grown up by then as well. I’m sure he’ll be a very dapper-looking 50-something. A bit like John Wayne, hor.
2. I want to consolidate my blogs into one place, and have password protection, and comments to email, and RSS, and…
As I have explained before (but I never tire of repeating myself) Blogger is good for the occasional photoblog, but I find it too buggy for regular blogging. TBlog is reliable, but limited in function. And both these clients don’t provide password protection. I’d pay Blogger, but they’re no longer accepting Pro users. Eventually, one day, I will get a host and, like cH over at TSI:Unlimited, I’ll also be unlimited. Right now I can’t use my credit card to pay for stuff like hosting fees, cos my mother doesn’t know that I blog. (Nor does she know what is a blog, I suspect.)And I don’t want her to find out. It’s always harder to blog, knowing that your mother can read what you’re writing. C’mon, would you let her read your diary?
3. I want to attend the upcoming Singapore bloggers’ convention (it is yet to be officially named).
Apparently it will be on in July, which is a bit tough for me, being as I am in Kuala Lumpur. If they have it in early-to-mid-July, I’ll have to make a trip down, and if they have it in late July, there is a chance I’ll be busy with Orientation 2005. I don’t fancy the idea of admitting to the Orientation people that I’m off attending a blogger convention, cos then they’d want to read my blog. Not that I don’t like having in-hall readers (yo Kel) but there’s just so much potential for misunderstanding, especially over the matter of the Hall Guide. A bigger conundrum concerning the convention though: Am I in fact allowed to attend? Being as I am not a citizen or Permanent Resident of Singapore? It’d be cool if I could go, then we could form a tiny Noose student sub-group. Or better still, a sub-sub group consisting of foreign students at Noose. So far that would consist of me and cH, and perhaps a few of his friends. Yay.
4. I don’t want to be eternally vigilant.
It’s been often quoted, particularly over the AcidFlask issue, that “the price of freedom is eternal vigilance”. But I don’t want to always censor myself, I don’t want to have to worry about getting sued or hauled up at the Dean’s Office. I don’t want to have people stumbling across my blog and telling my family. I don’t want to have to plead with my readers, as Kenny Sia did, to respect my privacy as a person outside of the blogosphere. I just want everyone to enjoy reading it and leave it at that. Please don’t boycott Yousucks Hall just because I’m a resident. I don’t intend to defame anything or anyone, whether in writing or by association. It’s so easy to piss off people in the blogosphere. All you have to do is hold a different opinion from them.
5. I want to save the world.
One smile at a time. My new goal is to cheer up someone somewhere, by a tiny smidgen or by a lot, by what I wrote. Gosh I sound like some happiness-dispensing fairy.
Today it is: Even if you are a smoker, I will consider dating you. I’ve realised that smokers aren’t all the smelly, polluting bastards we non-smokers like to think they are. Some are actually quite considerate. Just like how being a non-smoker doesn’t automatically qualify you for the “Can Date” list, being a smoker will not automatically disqualify you. There, I’ve just practised non-discrimination of smokers! Yay!
(I’m not assuming everyone wants to date me. I’m just saying that, personally, a nicotine habit isn’t the be-all and end-all when choosing dates.)
Please tell me if I made you smile. Thank you.
Return of the tiny Sith Lordette
Somebody please take me out to watch Star Wars, I haven’t any friends here to go out with (a certain piggy from the mountains please take note). I’m soooo dying to see Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman. They are so gorgeous (in comparison to the wrinkly old Palpatine - bah!) and I’m itching for a good lightsaber fight.
Anyway. The network connection at home isn’t fully fixed yet, it’s not as functional as it was when it was first installed. I rigged it so that the modem is directly connected to the phone jack, instead of using a splitter. And for some very frustrating reason, the upstairs computer can detect a wireless signal, but can’t go online. This is a very frustrating state of affairs indeed.
After disappearing for more than a week, I have so much to say, so much to blog… I missed out on certain interesting events in the blogosphere, such as Finicky Feline’s list of male bloggers she’d like to date, and Mr Miyagi’s posting of a hideous picture of me. The only reason I’m aware of these is because I had someone else informing me. Piffle.
I went for my first ever driving class on Tuesday, it was great fun. The Malaysian system necessitates you to attend a 5-hour lecture on the theory of driving. Our lecturer was a young man, about 27 years old, and he was very animated and sarcastic, so at least it wasn’t too boring. Now I have to go and study my books on the highway code so that I can take the test next week. Eeep.
It was raining heavily during the lecture, and still raining when I got home. As I waited outside for the maid to open the gate, my dog stood up, looked at me and trotted out into the rain. This is a big deal, because he doesn’t like going out into the rain if he can help it. So the fact that he came out to meet me shows that at least he’s got some of that doggy devotion going on. He came to the gate, sniffed once and trotted back to the shelter of the porch. Bah. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want him to stay too long in the rain, either. Wet dog smells awful. Like rubbish.
A question for the unmarried adult males out there:
Would you date a university student?
The reason for this being that an acquaintance received a proposition from someone much older, stating his wish to date her. We who heard this were like, “er… but he’s so old.” Not like elderly-old, just not-student-age-old. Somehow I have greater doubt about this than a possible romance between a uni student and a secondary schoolgirl. Something about the gap between the studying and the working world, I suppose. I mean… if you’re in university and your paramour in school, you still can complain about assignments and sucky teachers to each other. But a working adult and a student… yes there are still assignments, deadlines and sucky bosses, but one works for wages, and the other doesn’t have that obligation. You can choose to skip a lecture, but not to skip work. The carefree, do-as-you-wish life of a student contrasts too painfully with the heavy responsibilities of work.
What am I going to do when I graduate? My boyfriend will still be studying. And I won’t even get any perks like a car to drive him around in. Bleah. And I won’t get to wear shorts and mini-skirts to work. Dang. I hate dressing for the office. When I was temping last year, I wore the same 5 outfits every week, because the rest of my stuff was college-wear.
I’m gonna go work on a cruise ship.
Coming up next: My blogster wish list.
Bad bad internet!
No blogging for the foreseeable future as my internet connection at home is down and out for the count. Could be that Noose complained to the Singaporean government about my unflattering Hall Guide, then Singapore complained to Malaysia who proceeded to tell the ISP to cut off my access.
That’s just a conspiracy theory that doesn’t hold the least bit of water.
Read through the archives, visit my photoblog, visit my friends’ blogs… oh, and if you run out of things to do, click on the little red button on the right to vote for me.
An update on the Hall Guide: My cool and funky friend at Ken Rich has posted pictures of his room (all hail the very cool Laremy). Please see for yourself here. He is so kind (not to mention not at all shy) to show us a real room to increase the effectiveness of the Hall Guide! I’ll put it on the post proper when my internet is working again.
Thanks for coming back to check, anyway. Oh, and Anthony Fedorov and Carrie Underwood seem to be dating. Isn’t that the sweetest. Anyone in America, please vote for Carrie or Bo, cos I think they should be in the finale.
Toodlie-ooo!
The Grand High Inspector comes tomorrow!
My boyfriend has gone off back home, and now I’m in a bit of a mad rush to clean my room and pack up before my mother arrives tomorrow. If I had my way, I wouldn’t bother cleaning the room, since someone else will be using it over the holidays AND the cleaners will be cleaning it anyway. But if my mother is going to step foot inside and be allowed to view this room, I jolly well better clean it before she sees what filth I live in.
Dust has organised itself into neat little colonies behind my whiteboard, under my rack and in various little nooks and crannies. Argh! I should have invested in a handheld vacuum cleaner. As it is, I’m wiping away the dust with those magic static wipes (the real thing, mind you, not the one-dollar imitations) and I am very grossed out by all the dead insects that flew into my room, couldn’t find their way out and died here.
I’m in two minds about doing my laundry. Part of me says I should just do one last load and stuff all the clean clothes into my suitcase, and part of me wants to leave it till I get home, and leave it to the maid. I still have a giant pile of laundry to fold and hang up. Damn the distractions caused by my boyfriend’s visit!
I have 18 hours to pack up my stuff and fool my mother into thinking that she’s successfully raised a neat freak. Hehe. Don’t tell her.
On another note, a friend asked me yesterday if I intended to work here after my graduation. Well, I don’t have much of a choice, I’m bonded here for 3 years. The nature of the job, however, is up to me. And since Cowboy Caleb [link] gave me such a good idea, I might actually follow up on that. His idea was that I should become a croupier at the upcoming Integrated Resort (thanks, Government, you’ve made ‘casino’ a bad word). By the time it opens in 2009 I will have graduated, and actually this kind of job seems right up my alley. My previous ambition, besides the standard “I want to be a psychologist” was to work on a cruise liner. I thought it would be so cool, it’d be like being an air stewardess without the attendant stresses like hijackers and turbulence, and flight schedules at unearthly hours.
I think my degree would overqualify me to be a croupier, but I don’t see why they should exclude me from such an exciting job just because I’ve been through uni. What, uni grad cannot have a fun job is it? Sociologically speaking, I am deviant because I am, let’s see, rejecting society’s means but accepting their goals. Right. Screw you, conformity! I’m only young once anyway. I’d love to be a teenage millionaire, of course, but I’m past that age limit now, so the next best thing is to emulate the freeters of Japan. I was never the type to hold an office job, it just drives me nuts.
Oh, and here’s a lovely new picture I intend to use as my blog profile pic:
Note that my screen is actually displaying my blog. Hehehe.
Let’s make it more!
I love my team. I forgive them everything. I forgive Gerrard’s own goal, Dudek’s blunder against Manchester United, and Owen for leaving. Let us move on, guys, and together conquer Europe.
I love every single Liverpool player who was on the pitch at Anfield today. It was a sterling performance. It was undeniably the best home game I have ever witnessed. Everyone gave his entire heart and soul to the game. There wasn’t a single player whom I could fault for being less than totally involved in the game. *sniff sniff*
Dudek produced a brilliant save that restored my faith in him. Honestly, some days I wish Carson would play more, but Dudek has 11 clean sheets in Europe this season, so he must be doing something right where the Champions’ League is concerned.
Gerrard was, as always, in the thick of things, although I didn’t see very much of him on screen. He’s still my captain. *cue line from ‘Dead Poets’ Society’: “Oh Captain, my captain!”*
Yay Steve Finnan for being there, one important cog in the wheel that is the Liverpool defence. Yay the whole defence, really.
Yay Hyypia for being our rock and token big man in defence. And occasional goal-scorer, which makes him really value-added, honestly.
Hats off to Traore who has redeemed himself in my eyes, and justifies his regular first-team place under Rafa Benitez’s rule.
And to Igor Biscan, also another goal-scorer and sometime match-winner. I’m glad we didn’t sell him after all.
Didi Hamann, whose face I can never remember but whose name I’d put on my Dream XI. Solid defender.
And his replacement Harry Kewell, who pulled off some fancy footwork in the corner to drag time. And was called a diver by one of the Chelsea players. Darn.
Riise, whose name I couldn’t pronounce until tonight, and who was absolutely everywhere he had to be. I guess he really rose to the occasion.
Milan Baros, for whom I named my kitten. He rocks. And finally I realised that it’s not an Alice band he wears (a la Patrik Berger) but an elastic headband, which also seems to be the trend with Kewell, Luiz Garcia and one of the Chelsea players.
Djibril Cisse who came on for Baros and impressed the fashionista in me with his totally funky hairstyle which has to be seen to be believed. And he had a really good upfield run which amused me for the simple reason that I’ve never seen anyone run so far and so fast with a ball.
Luiz Garcia, beloved of the Kop for his goal on which we are now riding to Istanbul. I love you Luiz Garcia! *goes off to check his birthdate so can see how much older he is than me*
Antonio Nunez, whom I think is a real cutie, came on to replace his goal-scoring compatriot and had a good time running around.
And last, but not least, my nominee for Man of the Match: Jamie Carragher! Who blocked every threatening ball and constantly frustrated the Chelsea forwards. I don’t just love him. I bow down at his feet and worship him. If he’s not Man of the Match, I’ll be upset. Ok, the award can go to a Chelsea player, but no other Liverpool player deserves it as much, I believe.
(Dis)Honourable Mentions:
Boss Rafael Benitez for being cool and looking neat and then losing his cool and running up and down the touchline screaming like a man possessed. Eh I actually want to give him Honourable Mention for being such a wonderful manager. And also for making me feel ok for screaming at a computer screen, since he’s trying to make himself heard above the jubilation of the Kop. Ah, football makes fools of us, no?
Bad Bad: A couple of pitch invaders who had to be dragged/carried off by stewards. The commentator didn’t like them, I could hear it in his tone. He called them ‘clowns’ and ‘brainless’. He has a point, it disrupts the flow of the game, as he put it. And they weren’t even naked, AND were waving Liverpool scarves around. The better-behaved, genuine Liverpool fans booed them from the stands. Boo.
For the first time in a long, long while, I am very proud of my team. Even prouder than when they beat Juventus, because that victory was slightly tainted by the memory of the disaster.
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