nuinca

Deathcab for Forrest

I’m talking about that guy up there. Forrest. My friend, your friend, all-around nice guy. Or so I thought.

As you probably didn’t read in my earlier post, I don’t dig the soccer thing, the World Cup thing and most definitely don’t dig the vulvazella thing. Well, this weekend Forrest came down to hang out with Diana and I. Beer flowed and good food fell from heaven. And along the way, Forrest got me to watch the America/Ghana soccer game. Since I’ve always considered myself the best thing that’s ever happened to Forrest (with the notable exception of Liz), I decided to give it a go; really get into a soccer game.

I asked questions, learned player names and actually felt happy when some guy, Donovan or something, scored on a penalty kick. After about 110 minutes of soccer action, I’ll admit to being hooked like a meth head after his first hit on the communal pipe.

Then we lost. And I blame Forrest, I think that’s fair.

A star is born then instantly collapses

This year, the 48 hour film festival was different. Different in a number of ways, mostly good, and in one way very bad. Let’s start with the good ways.

The Times-Union team featured an all TU staff this year, no professional script writers, actors or trophy-chasing producers. We were a bunch of hearty, motivated, sleep-depraved souls with more talent in a twist of our pubic hair than in the entire self-aggrandizing bodies of years past. That is to say, we rocked.

Continue reading…

Dear World Cup,

This is an open letter to the million, billions or trillions of World Cup fans out there:

Please leave me alone. If I was in Germany, Spain, or God forbid, France, I would be willing to pretend to give a shit. But I’m not. I’m in America, land of the free and home of the rotund. I shouldn’t be bombarded with people’s faux enthusiasm, overpriced Real Madrid jerseys and CONSTANT vevuzela references.

I don’t care about your single-score games, boring dive tackles or the “did you know the average soccer player runs 12 miles per game?!” facts. If soccer players were bigger they would play rugby or football. If there were faster they would be track athletes. If they had better coordination they would be baseball players. If they were any smarter they would have graduated elementary school.

There. That made me feel better.

Go USA!