On Stuff

[active_apathy]

Well, hello, all and sundry. It seems I'm perfectly capable of finding ways to make myself mindlessly busy without the need for pesky schoolwork, meaning that - among other things - I'm going to be away for the next couple of weekends but should (hopefully!) be alive and well and e-present between for the benefit of, well, some.

So! Today's news.

Today's news is that I'm sleepy. Why am I sleepy? From watching twenty-two (then twenty-one, but twenty-three in total) men in floppy shorts and colourful shirts trotting about after a white ball of great bounciness. (I use my River icon because, well, her expression fits well with international football, make of that what you will.)

But first, a digression: there's not a lot of sport mentioned in this journal. In fact, as far as I can tell, none before this post. This is because it generally fails to interest me, apart from the moderately interesting fact that netball is responsible for more trade in accident and emergency than all the various kinds of football pastede on yey put together. I may very well have needed someone to point out to me that they were, in fact, not interested in a base ballgame, and I'd simply misread it.

Silly spaces.

So, sleepy. And then, eventually, ninety-four minutes into the game (which is, I suppose, ninety-five when you count injury time in the first half) Italy won because our player fell over then theirs fell over him and he got the ball all to himself, lucky him, and kicked it into the big white net. And so, for the rest of the World Cup matches, the Australian audience probably won't exist, and what of it does will be thoroughly against Italy referees, protesting loudly and calling for them to red card themselves. Beware, any holding aloft yellow cardboard today in what would normally be scenes of urban tranquility.

Ultimately, the effects of losing are this: Cahill gets to be somewhat famous. Kewell gets to limp about. Hiddink gets to nick a couple of players for his club side. Kennedy gets altogether more yellow football boots than he knows what to do with. That other guy gets a sweaty Brazilian shirt. All the other players get shiny new Wikipedia pages, because that's what Wikipedia does. Lastly, the news media get to make a tragically big fuss about it for a few minutes, before they then turn to their usual silly game with short shorts, flying hugs and a pointy ball.

Mmm, sleepy. But no sleep yet, oh no, for I have stuff to go and do. Stuff bad, sleep good, fire bad, tree pretty, and so forth.

Comments

[active-apathy.livejournal.com]

I think I might. I even think the one I know might occasionally feel the need to react to customers as per the icon, but shouldn't since calls get recorded for training purposes.