Sunday, November 19, 2006

AM: I awaken around 8.40 unable to sleep any further/longer. My body clock will now truly be out of whack and my weekend will eventually truly prove one big waste/waist.

After a little MSN conversation with Gyle and watching Henry Kissinger on the Sunday current affairs/news show, it becomes apparent that I am just killing time before I head over to the parents’ at 11AM for Sunday football, dinner and Simpsons. My life truly has become so predictable, especially in the way that I revert back to a needy teenager on Sundays.

I briefly look at doing some well intended study but I’m not in the mood, I am lazy.

PM: after fucking around for too long on iTunes, it is suddenly past midday and the morning has been half wasted. I head over to my parents’ crib with Ipswich already drawing 1-1 with Norwich.

When I arrive at the old people’s home Dad is fucking around with the door bell and for the first hour of my visit he proceeds to repeatedly press/ring the door bell all in the name of repair. Only I go to answer the door the first half dozen times.

Ipswich v Norwich on Sky is a pretty watchable game. The East Anglian derby is the gayest derby in football, the two highest positioned football clubs from Hicksville battling it out over shouting rights for the agricultural area of the country and silly accents. Still, coming from Portman Road on a Sunday morning, to its credit, it is a packed house. I still despise both clubs with venom for reasons stretching back to my teens. Things are changed in reality and earnest but I have not changed. Eventually Millwall reject Danny Haynes comes off the bench and scores twice for Ipswich to give them a 3-1 victory. I am not moved emotionally.

Dad hits a homer over lunch as he tells me how I “need to lose weight” prompting the only possible response I can muster: I call him a “cunt”. Families families familes.

The second game of the day on Sky is Wigan v Aston Villa, a match no-one in South really cares about. Wigan look good though and it is Villa’s keeper than just about manages to keep them in the game. As the game wears on and nears an end it begins to look like Aston Villa may mug Wigan against the run of the game but instead it ends a snore draw 0-0. I am relieved that I don’t bother to watch more than ten minutes of it.

Another Sunday and another Spurs game on Sky (the third Sunday game in a row). Tottenham look really shoddy at the moment, ever since they scraped that win over Chelsea. Today Blackburn really hassle them at Ewood Park with Tugay scoring the inevitable, a real spectacular screamer of a volley. In the meantime the big nosed Mido gradually gets angrier and angrier as the game progresses, something I don’t mind as I really dislike him. When even the frilly haired Robbie Savage (Randy Savage’s brother apparently) clocks Mido with a niggling foul, I don’t mind it whereas usually I’d be niggled myself. Tugay later fucks things up though by giving away a soft penalty (or by an act of professional foul genius) and getting himself sent off. Defoe then surprisingly slots away the penalty before Mido, that big nosed cunt of footballer, then performs a blatant handball in the Tottenham penalty area. The game ends in a right scuffle, the sad highlight of the entire match as Ghaly gets sent off and Martin Jol looks as if he wants to kill the referee whilst a general freefall bundle occurs between the remaining players on the pitch. It wasn’t as good as I make it sound.

After a couple of recent episodes of The Simpsons I head home to a depressing Sunday night in. I have a bath and manage not to fall asleep in it as Channel Four finishes off showing its Lord Of The Rings trilogy, a showing that reminds me of a great day in December 2003 when I went to see it at the cinema with Azmei and Sarah, before things became “complicated”.

I soon fall asleep in the indulgence of nothing.

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