How I wanted to be with St. Kilda...
This weekend was the worst ever. Allow me to tell you about it.
FIRST. I woke up on Saturday morning with my period. SORRY. But that's what happened! It was painful and annoying. Starting things off with a bang.
NEXT. The thing that is still too fresh and painful for me to talk about...occured. (My boys...lost...the Grand Final.) It's not funny, ok! Ok, yes, I'm playing this for laughs, but let me tell you how devastated I actually was - when the final siren sounded I collapsed to the floor in tears - yes, I really did - cried into my Saints beanie for about 20 minutes, still on the floor, then stormed up to my bedroom, put in my ear plugs so I wouldn't have to hear the crowd cheering for the wrong fucking team, and stayed there for two hours, refusing to talk to anyone. YES. I really did do that. It...was not dignified. I freely admit that I disgraced myself. BUT.
I WAS SO UPSET.
ALSO: I'd been drinking. Especially during that last quarter.
(ALSO ALSO: The dog ate half the ear off my 26 year old panda bear)
SO. Lying there in bed, I started feeling sick from being drunk and then I got one of those night-time hangovers you get when you've started drinking a 11:30 in the morning. Headachy and bad. Was still like that when I woke up on Sunday.
SUNDAY. NOT any better - hungover, depressed, on a complete media blackout because I can't bear to see ANY Geelong celebrations. Was informed by a number of people that my Saints were all crying after the loss - this makes me feel worse.
ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PLAYERS ANNOUNCES HIS RETIREMENT.
I don't know if I can actually physically bear anymore of this shit. Meanwhile, lonely, as my boyfriend had been out drinking the night before (I was obviously too shattered to join him) and thus spent all of Sunday in bed hungover.
Started crying again watching my boys at a St. Kilda function, looking all deflated. Was ever so slightly cheered by the 9000 fans who went out to greet them. Saw a couple of Saints smiling - this made me cry AGAIN.
MONDAY MORNING! Bright new day! Fresh new start! 6 months until the new footy season (2010 is OURS)! Go to work! My casual doesn't show up. For the second Monday in a ROW she's called in sick at the last minute, leaving me to run the store ALONE all day with no proper break, because it is IMPOSSIBLE to find someone to work at short notice on a Monday because all the casuals that work for Angus & Robertson are indolent uni students. Had to beg a manager from another store to come in for half an hour so I could go to the bank and the toilet.. 8 and a half hours goes very slowly.
Got home. Lovely boyfriend had cooked me a lovely dinner. Nothing has gone wrong for approx. 3 hours.
Here's hoping.
(But seriously - my Saints losing really did shatter me. People who don't follow sports don't understand that feeling - and it's crazy, and it felt shitty and horrible, but I wouldn't give up my boys for anything.)
The next few days are going to be AWESOME. They HAVE to be.
--Beck
Eric Bana was sad too :( Knowing he's a dedicated Saints supporter has made me love him about 4836746 times more. Even if he WAS Poida.
FIRST. I woke up on Saturday morning with my period. SORRY. But that's what happened! It was painful and annoying. Starting things off with a bang.
NEXT. The thing that is still too fresh and painful for me to talk about...occured. (My boys...lost...the Grand Final.) It's not funny, ok! Ok, yes, I'm playing this for laughs, but let me tell you how devastated I actually was - when the final siren sounded I collapsed to the floor in tears - yes, I really did - cried into my Saints beanie for about 20 minutes, still on the floor, then stormed up to my bedroom, put in my ear plugs so I wouldn't have to hear the crowd cheering for the wrong fucking team, and stayed there for two hours, refusing to talk to anyone. YES. I really did do that. It...was not dignified. I freely admit that I disgraced myself. BUT.
I WAS SO UPSET.
ALSO: I'd been drinking. Especially during that last quarter.
(ALSO ALSO: The dog ate half the ear off my 26 year old panda bear)
SO. Lying there in bed, I started feeling sick from being drunk and then I got one of those night-time hangovers you get when you've started drinking a 11:30 in the morning. Headachy and bad. Was still like that when I woke up on Sunday.
SUNDAY. NOT any better - hungover, depressed, on a complete media blackout because I can't bear to see ANY Geelong celebrations. Was informed by a number of people that my Saints were all crying after the loss - this makes me feel worse.
ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PLAYERS ANNOUNCES HIS RETIREMENT.
I don't know if I can actually physically bear anymore of this shit. Meanwhile, lonely, as my boyfriend had been out drinking the night before (I was obviously too shattered to join him) and thus spent all of Sunday in bed hungover.
Started crying again watching my boys at a St. Kilda function, looking all deflated. Was ever so slightly cheered by the 9000 fans who went out to greet them. Saw a couple of Saints smiling - this made me cry AGAIN.
MONDAY MORNING! Bright new day! Fresh new start! 6 months until the new footy season (2010 is OURS)! Go to work! My casual doesn't show up. For the second Monday in a ROW she's called in sick at the last minute, leaving me to run the store ALONE all day with no proper break, because it is IMPOSSIBLE to find someone to work at short notice on a Monday because all the casuals that work for Angus & Robertson are indolent uni students. Had to beg a manager from another store to come in for half an hour so I could go to the bank and the toilet.. 8 and a half hours goes very slowly.
Got home. Lovely boyfriend had cooked me a lovely dinner. Nothing has gone wrong for approx. 3 hours.
Here's hoping.
(But seriously - my Saints losing really did shatter me. People who don't follow sports don't understand that feeling - and it's crazy, and it felt shitty and horrible, but I wouldn't give up my boys for anything.)
The next few days are going to be AWESOME. They HAVE to be.
--Beck
Eric Bana was sad too :( Knowing he's a dedicated Saints supporter has made me love him about 4836746 times more. Even if he WAS Poida.