This weekend there was a football cup final between a team I understand is called the Bayern Eunuchs and the Borrussia Dirty Minds. Everyone who knows how much I love football knows exactly how excited I was to see this match.
Which is not excited at all. Football to me is what happens when the TV is wasting electricity that could be better spent screening House of Cards. Actually I was way way more interested in the foosball championship because I just find this tiny game with the tiny armless teams of Slavic wooden men taking on swarthy wooden latinate counterparts on their tiny little table very entertaining.
If real football was played like this I would probably know who the heiffer in UEFA was. My suspicion is that it was Cameron Diaz, but that is personal beef, stemming from an incident that is still in court so I can’t describe it here.
But first, let’s get down to business.
The Heinekens. Need to hook up with a pint there.
Once that is secured, we move down to the next issue. Foosball is far better than the other kind because it is faster, more dramatic, the players don’t throw themselves onto the ground like rags in the wind every time another player breathes too close to them and though they may not have personality, or characters, or even arms, they do have discipline. And I appreciate that.
Heineken Foosball also has these.
The Heineken Eye Candy. I call them the Heinekandy. Hell, even final year exams would be made much cooler if these ladies were on hand to help serve papers.
Now, though I am such a loser I could not qualify for anything, I did play Foosball a few times during this tournament. I would arrive and hang around before the real players and muck around on the tables, and I will admit, I could get used to this game. In fact, I will become used to this game. I will probably become a star at it. If they left the tables at Daytona I am going to go and get my Golola on, so next round I am proficient.
I also discovered, to my great dismay, that actual soccer has changed a lot since it first bored me those days of Football Made In Germany on a 12 inch screen. These days, I discovered, I can actually look at the slow motion replays and be impressed. I swear, we are in danger. If I end up being a soccer fan, I swear, I will blame you heiffer.
I don’t know who won the grass soccer, but I do know who won the Foosball. That was The Heat from Mbarara. They get to go to Amsterdam to watch more football and see white people in their natural habitat.
I the meantime, it was fun. Cheers. When is the next one?