Oh, Michael.
And this time, I'm actually not talking about Vartan or Vaughn. (Somewhere in Europe, Lengli has to sit down and ponder whether she should smack me.)
I'm talking about the Boy Wonder. Number 10 for England and Newcastle. Mr. "I Rock the Lavender Turtleneck Like It's Nobody's Business."
"That's me. Right-o!"
(Lucky for you, I won't torture you with the turtleneck this soon after its original posting.)
While he is certainly very pretty, I'm not that into Beckham, who everyone and their mothers love; for me, it's Michael Owen. It has been since he was a teenaged lad playing for Liverpool (and even though he is only a couple of years younger than me, when I became a fan of his back in college, it still seemed a little dirty). Hell, anyone who was ever at my apartment during grad school can testify to the HUGE black and white poster of his sweet mug that adorned my living room (much to the chagrin of my roommates, but like I gave a shit. Oh, where is that poster now? I think it needs to make an appearance at work, because lately, I certainly give less of a shit about them than I did about my roommates in grad, who were, for the most part, the bomb, by the way. Shout-outs to Lunchbox, Lauren, and Coxy!).
And just moments after entering the game yesterday against Sweden, he ruptured his ACL.
Funny, but throughout all of my knee injuries, I was never surrounded by hot paramedic type dudes. It was usually mannish female PE teachers or coaches. Dammit.
Ah, the wince of familiarity washes over me. Upon hearing this, I know that his World Cup is over, and he's got at least six months of rehab to do. And that's being optimistic, considering he could have injured his medial as well, and that could be another problem altogether.
Oh, but enough of that. I'm just sorry you're hurt, Michael. Do get better.
And now, if you please, enjoy this image of Michael chowing down on a wholesome, Limey bowl of "Sporties":
I'm telling you, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
I need to find me a box of Sporties to go with my Gators Frosted Flakes.
Hmm.
New project!
7 Comments:
"Sporties" are AWESOME!! The breakfast of champions....
It's ok, lengli understands, even in Europe. World Cup fever has swept the world. Though football aka "soccer" will never replace sweet sweet Michael Vaughtan (ha!) for me. Does my unwavering love mean that I deserve him more? ;)
Ah, my devotion, as you well know, has never waned. I just feel horrible for the lad, since he seems almost as injury-riddled as I was in back in the soccer days (however, I was not nearly as skilled as MO; I rode the pine with the best of them). Methinks this weekend's party may have to be a birthday/horrific injury story party/Alias season 1 marathon/quilting bee.
Heh. Vaughtan. I love it!
Btw, still want me to send you the finale?
Ok, just checking / seeing if I could sneak the wool over your eyes so I could glomp on to Vaughtan and never let go.
Say, what kind of cake has Lisa requested?
As for the finale, that's awesome of you, but I have no VCR over here. It's ok, I've made it one month, have one more to go before I can watch my mum's bootleg tape. Strength, thy name is lengli!
The cake has been baked, photographic evidence documented. Hoping to post on it in the next day or so. Sadly, I did not get to ask Lisa her cake preference before the baking (and apologized to her via blog comment), so once this post goes down, if she is dissatisfied with the attempt, we (meaning Danhole and myself) will have to make it up to her.
Also, as for the series finale, I am all set to burn it on to a dvd and send it your way, if you wish. I also plan on looping the segment from the episode where Vaughn first meets his daughter and reacts to her snoring. Swoon city, especially if you're an old bat like me who is slowly getting to the "yearning to be a pod" stage.
Run whilst you still can!
Oh man, how can I resist an offer like that? Cake and a DVD, reminds me of being home in the New Country. I can't wait to see the cake, and if you're totally determined to send a DVD to France, then I don't suppose I can stop you and would be most grateful! Though I don't have an oven here, maybe I can make a Smackadocious commemorative rice pudding or something in your honor. Let me know what you think, lady!
Um, yeah... well, we couldn't find silver disco balls for the cake. There were paltry offerings for cake decoration at the grocery. Then, everything went downhill. But there was a cake. And pictures are coming. And I have a feeling we'll have to make it up to you and Lisa with a more disco-tastic cake at a future date.
I'm such an asshole.
If you want me to mail a dvd over, let me know how long it will probably take to get there, and send me the address. If I can get it to you in good time, I shall.
Now, I'm off to a birthday party, and it's raining. Criminy. I'm sure they don't have heart-shaped cakes there, either. Balls!
Post a Comment