Pot Pourri

• Last winter I actually put my gloves in my Jeep's glovebox - it's not convenient or handy, but it felt good to do it once.

• Mormons are like a crazy version of Jehovah's Witnesses, yet both are nice, polite, and well-dressed.

• My spices are in my cupboard in alphabetical order from left to right. The exception was that my salt was on the left and my pepper was on the right. An OCD gal I know solved her sel-pouvre problem by putting them on the counter, where alphabetizing doesn't apply. I changed mine to have the salt in the front and the pepper in the back.

• Does anyone ever use SCROLL LOCK?

• A big block of wood appeared in my yard after a windstorm. I have no idea whence it came.

• Why does Wonder Bread have an expiration date when it lasts forever? I wonder.

• Native Indians were peaceful, lived in harmony with their environment, and never wasted a thing. One look at the bottom of a buffalo jump should dispell that last one. They were also known to be fierce warriors. When they say that they want their land back, I wonder if they're going to give it back to the tribes they conquered. I think not having a written history (evidence) helps them out here.

• I like big doors. The bigger, the better. Insanely huge wooden and steel castle doors are the best. Here are some Moroccan doors (save yourself eyestrain, I'm not in them).





• At one time or another my garlic, onions, and potatoes have sprouted on my counter.

• I believe that horoscopes are a hijacking and abuse of tenuous scientific principles. But then again, we Leos are sceptical, bossy, and lecturey. Oh, and all Scorpios are batsh*t crazy.

• Way back we learned that our taste buds were grouped together (ie. salty in front, sweet in back). It's a myth - they're evenly spread out. The wine snobs insist that different types of wines have different-shaped glasses to channel the wine to the appropriate buds. They're talking crap.

• Male clothing wraps left-over-right and female clothing wraps right-over-left (eg. button-up shirts). I wrap my robe left-over-right, but my towel right-over-left. Am I all gay/feminine when I'm just out of the shower and feeling superclean?

• In The Shawshank Redemption, Andy plays that record over the loudspeaker and Red narrates:

"I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free."

I checked. One of those "Italian ladies" was Swiss and the other was German.

Thot Was Poo-er Defendin'

Soccer is huge all over the world - except in North America where it's the sport that people play as kids, but grow out of it when manly sports like football and hockey become available. It's boring. It's played by anyone with an accent; and mostly in those poorer countries. It's a sport where diving and flailing around trying to draw a penalty is rewarded and manly play isn't. But hey, that's another blog...and I actually like playing soccer.

One thing you can't say that's boring though, is the British announcers. How can you not like the following phrases:


He struck that with real venom.
They've unleashed a brace of strikes.
They must be feeling well and truly flenned (circumcised).
The ball fizzed at him.
He goes to ground.

The striker is dispossessed of the ball.
He takes it down with some duress.
He's on his mettle tonight.
The ball is lashed out of play.
He's a real buccaneering fullback.

The goalie scuttled across the crease.
The ball is wicked out of play. ('wikt', not 'wikkid')
He had all the time in the world to steady the ship.
That was a total fresh-air shot.
That ball was clinically struck.

They're really in the ascendancy.
There's some real cut and thrust there.
The ball scuffs wide.
He balloons it out of bounds.
They're 2 goals to the good.

He comes out at a canter; now at a gallop.
What a blinding goal!
That move was strangled at birth.
He bursts into the area - he's foiled.
He traps the ball...straight out of the manual.

That was a lusty challenge.
He made a real meal out of that.
What a cracking shot on net!


And I like it how the announcer on the CBC just tacks the name of the team or player on at the end: They're really up against it now, Argentina. It's just enough distraction to sometimes make it watchable - especially when one of the cheating/diving teams gets knocked out like when Germany trashed Argentina (and Diego Maradonna) 4-0* today.


I didn't really have a horse in this race, seeing as I hate the way England has played in recent years, but now I do: Per Mertesacker of Germany. You know the German team, the catchy Die deutsche Fußballnationalmannschaft. Anyway, here's why I'm willing my good buddy Per on to victory:

• We play the same position, defense.
• We're the same height.
• "Per" in Old English means 'man who lives by a pear tree' - and I have a pair of trees out front on my boulevard.
• We have the same first initial.
• Our last names are close to being associated with death...mUerte means 'death' in Spanish; totmanN means 'dead man' in German.
• "...his game is unusually clean for a defender, evident by his relatively few bookings." Hey, me too.


So there you go - now you know who to cheer for. I like the way the Dutch play too - I might have to check out their last names and stuff.


P
* You have to say "Four - nil" in soccer.