Here's an abridged version of a conversation in my pub yesterday.
Local #1: Why is curling an Olympic sport?
Local #2: It looks ridiculous.
Local #3: They're certainly not athletes.
Me: No, they're NOT athletes. Why IS it an Olympic sport?
Local #2: To let old people in the Olympics.
Local #1: Why do they brush the ice?
Local #2: To slow down the puck, er.. rock thing.
Local #3: No, to speed it up.
Local #2: Are you sure?
Local #3: Yes.
Local #2: (pulling up wikipedia) I was wrong. It IS to speed it up.
Local #1: Wow, that's a relatively violent shot.
Local #3: Hey, they knocked the Swede's rock out!
Local #1: (Applauds)
Me: (Applauds)
Local #2: Sweet! (clears throat) I mean, that was kinda cool. But, you know, not Olympic-worthy cool.
Me: Right.
Me: What's the puck thing made out of?
Local #1: It's called a stone, not a puck.
Local #3: Marble.
Local #2: No, Granite.
Me: Looks heavy. I think they're going to need to block their middle, um, stone on this one.
Local #2: But they only have one stone left so they need to use it to knock out the swede's stone again.
Local #1: They're swiss, not swedes.
Local #3: It's Switzerland? I thougth it was Sweden.
(two hours later)
Me: They just need ONE MORE POINT. Come on guys!
Local #3: You can do it boys!
Local #2: This thing may go into overtime if they don't make this!
Local #1: Go USA!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Watching Curling
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Danny Boy
The Hurricane Season In Song
O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen and down the mountainside
The summer's gone and all the roses falling
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
O Danny boy, O Danny boy, I love you so.
But if ye come and all the flowers are dying
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft, your tread above me
And all my grave shall warmer, sweeter be
For you will bend and tell me that you love me
And I will sleep in peace until you come to me.
More Hurricane Season In Song here.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Ana's Song
The Hurricane Season In Song
Ana's Song by Silverchair
Please die, Ana
For as long as you're here, We're not
You make the sound of laughter
And sharpened nails seem softer
And I need you now, somehow
And I need you now, somehow
Open fire
On my needs designed
On my knees for you
Open fire
On my knees desires
What I need from you
Imagine pageant
In my head
The flesh seems thicker
Sandpaper tears corrode the film
And I need you now, somehow
And I need you now, somehow
Open fire
On my needs designed
On my knees for you
Open fire
On my knees desires
What I need from you
And you're my obsession
I love you to the bones
And Ana wrecks your life
Like an anorexia life
Open fire
On my needs designed
On my knees for you
Open fire
On my knees desires
What I need from you
Open fire
On my knees desire
Open fire
On my needs designed
On my knees for you
(more Hurricane Seasons In Song here)
