Viiiiiilla
Good people of the internet,
Sports continues to be up! A true-to-life accurate statement of the Telemundo play-by-play on this afternoon's Germany-Spain would be DavidVillaDavidVillaDavidVillaDavidVillacabesa. It was in HD, por *my* vida, and I am susceptible to these things. It was two-thirty, well into sports-drinking time, there was plenty to be susceptible to - which means I thought some stupid things! Important observation: a lot of stupid things. Like, Özil looks like a handsomer Mark Streit! Really. And like, Schweinsteiger is a less-pumpkinfaced Joni Pitkanen. They team up and use their five-heads to FIGHT CRIME and FRIZZY HAIR. What, all white guys look the same anyway.
Let's back off from the casual racism, and move onto some important matters: hot stove business! Fast enough that it will not get dull. Higginsface got signed! (Immense delight!) Nystrom has no sense of these things (they should have both signed with the Isles, it would have been the bestttttt. Historical perspective! Bottom-six forwards!) The Oilers and Hurricanes are making mediocre choices (Corvo? Vandermeer? Babchuk? Foster? NASH NASH NASHHHHHH.) (nothing new there.) Hall! (Tricky name to shorten, although my brother tried nobly the other day: "hey that fish-faced kid, his picture is all over the NHL site. Must be because of the tragic accident!" the point is, he needs a nickname, other than "fish-face" and "Eberle's boyf." or "how are they going to fuck this up," which is sharp, but somewhat unwieldy - hatgtftu, it sounds like Xhosa.)
So, yeah. Back now! Of course I have been spending my time watching sports, and not updating my Livejournal what a surprise. North America, it is a busy place, and I have so much to get done and keep on doing. HEY this is a way to succeed on Livejournal: meet new people who are pretty fun, and plan to keep up with everyone because it is summertime the nicest time then promptly leave the internet for a month! DID NOT MEAN IT THAT WAY also it is not yet a month.
OH but I do know how the internet works! Even without me, strangely enough. Links are key to this conception! Mariano Rivera, King of the Closers
In 2009, when he was thought to be slowing down and yielding his place to the Red Sox phenom Jonathan Papelbon, he pitched 16 innings in postseason play and gave up one run, while extending his career postseason saves record to 39 as the Yankees won the World Series. (Papelbon gave up a two-run lead in the ninth to end the Red Sox’ season in the divisional round against the Angels.) Rivera, when pressed, attributes his gifts to providence; people of a more secular bent say that he combines one of the single greatest pitches baseball has ever seen - his cutter, or cut fastball - with an inner calm, and a focus, no less unusual and no less inimitable.
or,
No one on the Yankees would describe Rivera that way. It would be as difficult to imagine the serene and pious Rivera with the Red Sox as it would the amped-up Papelbon with the Yankees.
As a result of this inaptness, here is a most wretched-slash-wacky idea that I have been working on:
"...Oh hey, paternity suit! That'll be fun." It's a pretty funny joke, even if no one else has ever laughed.
Rivera stares unblinkingly back at Papelbon, like he expects something else entirely. Hell if Papelbon knows what, but the main thing is that he wasn't even sure that he, or his face at least, could look so even. It's not a frown, but it's not something better either.
Well. "Kidding! There isn't one." Rivera doesn't look relieved or anything; he just holds that solid expression, a kind of human version of the fish tank with no fish back in Boston. It's not that they're irresponsible, but Ashley's busy with her things, and he's obviously got his things, mainly winning games, so there aren't any fish. It's a big tank, though, and he had to empty it before the kids could get to it, and the whole thing had been tricky and he'd ended up hefting it out the back steps, instantly regretting the way it poured wet slime down the front of his shirt and jeans. The point is, sorta, that the tank hadn't looked that hard to lift, before he learned how heavy water was. Not that there's that underwater moss anywhere here, which would be gross but it is New York. Mostly, yeah. That's the kind of serious that Rivera is. "One-hundred percent kidding."
YES, Papelbon and Rivera bodyswap. Sex does not ensue, as it is severely unarousing and also they are who they are, viz., American League, and Red Sox, and Yankees. Unfortch, but it is fairly hilarious nonetheless. (um, later Rivera tries to tell a knock-knock joke and Papelbon attempts to convince Rodriguez to hook him up with weed. AND THEY RE-LEARN HOW TO PITCH.) It's also less totally faily than what my teams can actually offer, which would be...Lincecum's terrible yet awe-inspiring mechanics and the melange of losing the ball in the lights ALL THE TIME seriously Bay and Frenchy WHY EVEN BRING YOUR GLOVES JUST SWING AT THE BALL WITH A BAT THE SUCCESS RATE CAN'T BE THIS GRIM, way to make Santana look like he is actually crying (rather than almost crying which is just how his face looks.) (Or poor Misspelling Niese.)
Actual content here! Imminently! Soonishly. Fewer parentheses, too. (ahahahah.)
Sports continues to be up! A true-to-life accurate statement of the Telemundo play-by-play on this afternoon's Germany-Spain would be DavidVillaDavidVillaDavidVillaDavidVillacabesa. It was in HD, por *my* vida, and I am susceptible to these things. It was two-thirty, well into sports-drinking time, there was plenty to be susceptible to - which means I thought some stupid things! Important observation: a lot of stupid things. Like, Özil looks like a handsomer Mark Streit! Really. And like, Schweinsteiger is a less-pumpkinfaced Joni Pitkanen. They team up and use their five-heads to FIGHT CRIME and FRIZZY HAIR. What, all white guys look the same anyway.
Let's back off from the casual racism, and move onto some important matters: hot stove business! Fast enough that it will not get dull. Higginsface got signed! (Immense delight!) Nystrom has no sense of these things (they should have both signed with the Isles, it would have been the bestttttt. Historical perspective! Bottom-six forwards!) The Oilers and Hurricanes are making mediocre choices (Corvo? Vandermeer? Babchuk? Foster? NASH NASH NASHHHHHH.) (nothing new there.) Hall! (Tricky name to shorten, although my brother tried nobly the other day: "hey that fish-faced kid, his picture is all over the NHL site. Must be because of the tragic accident!" the point is, he needs a nickname, other than "fish-face" and "Eberle's boyf." or "how are they going to fuck this up," which is sharp, but somewhat unwieldy - hatgtftu, it sounds like Xhosa.)
So, yeah. Back now! Of course I have been spending my time watching sports, and not updating my Livejournal what a surprise. North America, it is a busy place, and I have so much to get done and keep on doing. HEY this is a way to succeed on Livejournal: meet new people who are pretty fun, and plan to keep up with everyone because it is summertime the nicest time then promptly leave the internet for a month! DID NOT MEAN IT THAT WAY also it is not yet a month.
OH but I do know how the internet works! Even without me, strangely enough. Links are key to this conception! Mariano Rivera, King of the Closers
In 2009, when he was thought to be slowing down and yielding his place to the Red Sox phenom Jonathan Papelbon, he pitched 16 innings in postseason play and gave up one run, while extending his career postseason saves record to 39 as the Yankees won the World Series. (Papelbon gave up a two-run lead in the ninth to end the Red Sox’ season in the divisional round against the Angels.) Rivera, when pressed, attributes his gifts to providence; people of a more secular bent say that he combines one of the single greatest pitches baseball has ever seen - his cutter, or cut fastball - with an inner calm, and a focus, no less unusual and no less inimitable.
or,
No one on the Yankees would describe Rivera that way. It would be as difficult to imagine the serene and pious Rivera with the Red Sox as it would the amped-up Papelbon with the Yankees.
As a result of this inaptness, here is a most wretched-slash-wacky idea that I have been working on:
"...Oh hey, paternity suit! That'll be fun." It's a pretty funny joke, even if no one else has ever laughed.
Rivera stares unblinkingly back at Papelbon, like he expects something else entirely. Hell if Papelbon knows what, but the main thing is that he wasn't even sure that he, or his face at least, could look so even. It's not a frown, but it's not something better either.
Well. "Kidding! There isn't one." Rivera doesn't look relieved or anything; he just holds that solid expression, a kind of human version of the fish tank with no fish back in Boston. It's not that they're irresponsible, but Ashley's busy with her things, and he's obviously got his things, mainly winning games, so there aren't any fish. It's a big tank, though, and he had to empty it before the kids could get to it, and the whole thing had been tricky and he'd ended up hefting it out the back steps, instantly regretting the way it poured wet slime down the front of his shirt and jeans. The point is, sorta, that the tank hadn't looked that hard to lift, before he learned how heavy water was. Not that there's that underwater moss anywhere here, which would be gross but it is New York. Mostly, yeah. That's the kind of serious that Rivera is. "One-hundred percent kidding."
YES, Papelbon and Rivera bodyswap. Sex does not ensue, as it is severely unarousing and also they are who they are, viz., American League, and Red Sox, and Yankees. Unfortch, but it is fairly hilarious nonetheless. (um, later Rivera tries to tell a knock-knock joke and Papelbon attempts to convince Rodriguez to hook him up with weed. AND THEY RE-LEARN HOW TO PITCH.) It's also less totally faily than what my teams can actually offer, which would be...Lincecum's terrible yet awe-inspiring mechanics and the melange of losing the ball in the lights ALL THE TIME seriously Bay and Frenchy WHY EVEN BRING YOUR GLOVES JUST SWING AT THE BALL WITH A BAT THE SUCCESS RATE CAN'T BE THIS GRIM, way to make Santana look like he is actually crying (rather than almost crying which is just how his face looks.) (Or poor Misspelling Niese.)
Actual content here! Imminently! Soonishly. Fewer parentheses, too. (ahahahah.)