June 30th, 2006

Attack of the Killer Chihuahua!

(no subject)

It really was a simple errand: run to a store that sells Vodafone top-up vouchers to get topped up and maybe buy a few food items.

Went to the Costcutter a block away, figuring they were more likely than the corner convenience store to sell vouchers. No go. I was told to go to the (mumblemumble) station. "Where?" "(mumblemumble) station." "I'm sorry, which station?" "Petrol—gas—station." Oh. I know what petrol is, if you'd speak clearly.

Walked to the petrol station next door. A van drives up and honks. Turns out they're honking at me. They want directions. I cannot for the life of me make out more than a word or two of their impenetrably thick brogue. I finally shrug my shoulders and say I don't know.

Inside, I confirm that they do, indeed, sell top-up vouchers. I decide to get a few food items while I'm there. As the cashier is ringing me up, I reach into my back pocket and realize my wallet isn't there. Crap. "I'm sorry. I forgot my wallet. If you can just set that aside, I'll be back in five minutes."

I go back home, grab my wallet, return to the petrol station, apologize again. He starts to ring up the items once more, and I add, "Plus a £40 Vodafone voucher." No problem. He rings up the total, and I hand him my credit card. He looks at it and says, "No chip." "No, it's not chip-and-pin." Apparently, he cannot accept a non-chip-and-pin card for vouchers.

Sigh. I reach into another pocket for my billfold. £30. I never needed to go home to grab my wallet. If only I'd known upfront I'd have to pay cash… "Okay, £20 on the voucher." "And the rest on the card?" "No, cash for all of it." Once more he rang up my items one by one, as the queue behind me continued to lengthen and grow restless.

Hey, but now I can make phone calls and send texts again, for the next couple of weeks at least.
You can't guard me!

(no subject)

I was mistaken last week when I said there were no more marquee match-ups in the second round. I had forgotten about France-Spain, which was certainly a marquee match-up. And it proved to be a pretty good match, too. I thought Spain would win but felt it could go either way. In the end, the wiley veterans prevailed over the young lions. Spain led 1-0 for more than half the match. Then France equalized. And in the final 10 minutes, France scored twice to put it away.

The first of the third round's marquee match-ups was played a few hours ago, Argentina versus Germany. Argentina was arguably the better team and took an early 1-0 lead. But then their goalkeeper got injured and had to be subbed out. Shortly thereafter Germany tied it up when their all-team leading scorer, Klose, worked his magic again. (Both the assist and the goal were beautiful headers!) Neither team could break through again. It went to penalty kicks, where Lehmann (I wish he would change his name) stopped two and Argentina's back-up stood no chance. Germany advanced.

The current match is not very sexy. Italy and Ukraine. The Ukraine is very lucky to have made it this far. (Well, so is Italy, but I won't go there.) Previous Ukraine matches, I've been torn: I've wanted to root for Tunisia and Switzerland but realized that I should probably pull for Ukraine. No question today, though. The only teams I dislike more than Italy are Mexico (hate them, hate them, hate them) and maybe Colombia, Costa Rica, and Serbia & Montenegro—I even like Brazil better, because at least Brazil plays the beautiful game beautifully and doesn't rely on poor sportsmanship the way these other teams do. So, yeah, go Ukraine! (As I write this, they're trailing 1-0.)

I just spoke to Tania. She says all her friends have been texting or e-mailing her about Ukraine's success, and she has found it loathe to explain she doesn't really follow the World Cup. She admitted she might check in on the score from time to time tonight, though.

The remaining two third-round games should both be fantastic, England-Portugal and Brazil-France. In the latter, you have the two teams who have won the past three cups. In the other game, you have a talented England squad against the team I picked to win this year's Cup. Both teams will be missing key players. England lost their top striker, Michael Owen, to torn knee ligaments, and I believe they have another player who's questionable. Portugal will be without three top players, two because of red-card suspensions (courtesy of last week's red-and-yellow card-fest between Portugal and the Netherlands) and one due to injury. It should still be a close and exciting match. Though I've never liked Portugal much in the past, I will be rooting hard for them tomorrow.

Ohmygosh, I just saw the Panamanian flag hanging in the soccer stadium in Germany! That was unexpected.
Falstaff--Eh?

another meme

(courtesy of ayelle and alfie1981)

1. Take the lyrics to a favorite song (make sure it's relatively well-known).
2. Go to Google Language Tools and translate the lyrics into German; then from German to French; and finally from French back into English.
3. Post the results verbatim.
4. Invite your friends to guess the song based on the newly mangled lyrics.

It was a challenge thinking of a favorite song whose original language is English and is relatively well known, but I eventually thought of one. I doubt anyone will have trouble identifying this one:

Is this one the true life? Is this one an imagination right? Verfangen in a crumbling, no to escape from reality if your eyes open, look to the skies and to see, if if I am not a poor boy, me precisely requires sympathy because I simple came, simply, high a small number, little slightly each possible manner who them impacts of wind not really to me, go the mother, precisely constitute killed a man with me, rifle placed the mother at lives against her head drew my excursion, is to him now a mother, died were however maintaining far precisely begun to me should all throw not to form ooh, meant, you a cry if I am not return time this one to continue tomorrow again, continue you, as if nothing really constitutes, is late my time sends come Shivers my spine, of the body which damages all the time on re-examining, ev' rybody, me must goes to the bottom received, all to leave and the truth to confront with mother, ooh, would not like I to die me wish sometimes that I become be never born with all me sees small a silhouetto a Scaramouche man, Scaramouche, will makes you them Fandango Thunderbolt and the lightning me very much fright' ning (Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro Magnifico. I am right a poor boy and nobody likes to me am to him a poor boy of a poor family him his life of this Ungeheuerlichkeit saves precisely simple come, go simply, the will that you make go me to of Bismillah! We do not make go No, you (to leave the outward journey!) Bismillah! We are not made go (to leave the outward journey!) Bismillah! We do not make suit you (to let suit me.), to go do not do you (to let suit me.), to suit you to make. (It suits me to leave.), the ampèreheure No, No, No, No, No, No, No (the mother oh- mia, mother mia.) left the mother mia, me goes from Beelzebub leaves to a devil for me, for me, for me assied on side is thought you so that you can spit me entsteinen and in my eye you think so that you can me leave yourself with expensive and cubic baby, of OH-, cannot that does me, baby precisely receives to leave, precisely received to receive here right outta nothing really makes, everyone can not see anything businesses nothing really really makes with me a manner impacts of wind