So this here World Cup thing.
It's the European in the room at a party in Levi's and a sweater around the shoulders. YOU KNOW. The one that you sort of take a side-glance at and wonder if their jeans were fabulous or FAHH-BULOUS. If that sweater fits or if they were FIT.
It's the crazy friend you have that grew up abroad and has rich parents, and sweeps in on idle Tuesday nights and gets you REALLY drunk and then "runs to the bathroom" but before you know it it's 3 am and you can't find them because they're LONG gone and home doing a Danish model.
The World Cup doesn't seduce me like I prefer my Europeans to do (at least, my imaginary Europeans). It isn't teaching me the local dance in a darkened salsa bar, it isn't explaining to me the finer points of Bordeaux, it isn't teasing me about "my president", and it isn't even sitting on its ass drinking litres of beer and signaling for the manliest beer wench to bring us the goods.
To me the World Cup ditched me long ago in the bathroom with that Danish model and I'm just waiting for the frenzy to die down so I can piece back together the fabric of my habits.
The people around me? They are emotionally involved (I'm looking AT YOU BOYFRIEND and YOU ROOMMATE in particular). Can't a girl just get her international flair on TV from Globe Trekker and BBC America? Can't I just knit while you sit around and yell at the TV? At least the players are attractive enough to hold my interest for some of it, but that can only take you so far. I understand being super excited for a sporting event, but a month of super excited for sporting events really just falls flat after its first weekend. It's re-arranging their lives, and to a certain degree- MY LIFE.
It affects ME, all this nonsense. I had to be sympathetic yesterday when the US team embarrassed us. I had to entertain myself in very specific intervals during this past weekend. I had to elbow my way through an evening to get some FREAKING BRAVO up in this joint. It's playing in the cafeteria when I'm eating lunch, on TV in the evenings, and corners of the internets far and near.
That's not the point. The point is come July, SO MUCH PROJECT RUNWAY is going to be coming atcha that it's going to be a pink and pig-tailed, girlie, ruffly, frilly nightmare unleashed upon my life like none other. This shall be my revenge, and my ovaries its champions.
8 years and going strong, until the lure of Wawa wins me home.
How I Roll...
- katastrophe
- Washington, D.C., United States
- Katastrophe is how I roll. Someday, I'll have a pink Miata and will drive off into the sunset. For now, my bike will have to do.
3 comments:
Dearest Katastrophe: I wanted to address your ambivalence to Le World Cup, or, as many around this fair globe call it, la Coupe du Monde. Normally, this extravaganza of longhaired, toned foreign men would pique only a little interest for me for obvious reasons. But let me take you on a little time travel odyssey... to the summer of 2002... the summer of love, Euro-style. That was the summer our dear Laura and I shared a bedroom in various countries over the span of 9 weeks, ate a lot of wonderful food, saw a lot of old art, and basked in the glow of the hott sexy Mediterranean sun. It was also the last occurrance of the World Cup, and we were fortunate enough to watch in wonder as mild-mannered, dignified Europeans of all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, genders, income-levels, etc, went absolutely fucking ballistic over a game that every American kid was forced to play in youth league at age 8. (Yes, Kat, of course I played soccer! That's when I realized I am no good at team sports that require cooperation). Anyway, the experience of watching an entire city shut down - from public transportation to banks and everything in between - so that people could go to bars in the middle of the day to drink beer and scream at a television was so mindblowing and wonderful that I welcome the furor over la Coupe du Monde with nostalgia and warmth. And this Saturday, when the US is crying "Mama mia!" as Italy hands them a big bowl of whoopass marinara, I will be at a bar, beer in hand, shouting the same broken Italian I learned 4 years ago.
You can't stop it, Kat - so go with it - and the menz are hot!
Kat,
i love you like a sister and i always will, but this is where we COMPLETELY DISAGREE!!!! The World Cup is not just about a ball, two goals, a 110 yard "pitch", and 11 players..it is about the world really coming together to root and rabble for an instance in the sun. The Ivory Coast put a ceasefire to their war for this game. People are actually paying attention to Trinidad and Tobago for once and it is not to figure out what you call a person from there (a Tobagan?!?!?). Serbia and Montenegro are for the last time playing together as a team and will become two entirely new teams after this event. Scottish fans are throwing massive celebrations even though Scotland didn't make the World Cup and really did not have a chance in hell of doing so.
You think the Super Bowl had an impact on the US economy? Entire cities are closed in Argentina to watch their team play. A man gave his blood plasma to fund his trip to the World Cup. HIS ACTUAL BLOOD!!! The Italian player who knocked in the goal for the US in the second game today is probably going to be cut from whatever team he plays for and will have to find a new line of work.
From 9 am to 5 pm EST, the world does little more than watch soccer this month and i think that you are being a little to hard on the game. I love you and you have always made me smile, but this month it is about futbol and not runways....i'm sorry...
VIVA USA!!! VIVA FUTBOL!!!!
I realize after I submitted my rant, i saw that you have changed your comment moderation....people must be cursing you out in more languages that you know existed....you can't fight the world hun...
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