Fatlo.af

There is an explanation for that statement, I assure you. I’m not one to just go around making random negative comments on my drinking abilities. Allow me to explain….

Sunday was my 25th birthday. On Saturday, myself and a few of the regular boys and girls headed out to Finn MacCools for some birthday drinks. I like going to Finn MacCools – they have comfy seats, generally a fairly good live band and best of all…imperial pints! So, after consuming a few of these, I was encouraged to drink one or two jager bombs. Big mistake! In my younger, wilder days, a few pints of Coopers Pale Ale and a couple of jager bombs would have got me drunk, but I could have got up the next morning and run a marathon if I had wanetd to. But why the fuck would I want to? However, on the night in question, I went home and chucked. I’m such a bitch! In hindsight, vomitting was probably the best thing that could have happened. I awoke the next morning feeling slightly dodgy, but the feeling soon passed. The night of drinking has lead to me to a new theory…Hangover Memory. Basically, it’s the feeling you get in your stomach two or three days after consuming far too much alcohol. Your body seems to think that you have just that second consumed the same outrageous amount of alcohol and is punishing you for it. Maybe it’s just me. I’d like to blame my ever-decreasing tolerance to alcohol on my slightly elevated liver enzymes. However, we all know I’m just a bit of a bitch these days.

On Sunday, the Golden Grove Cricket Club played a trial match at Harper’s Field against Concordia CC. We always enjoy playing Concordia; they are a nice bunch of blokes and the game was played in the right spirit. I wish I could say that the “right spirit” contiinued off the ground. Unfortunately, those of you who know Nurl would be well aware of the effect of alcohol on Neil’s bowels (see that clever play on words?). Neil and I engaged in a farting contest. I was fuelled by the alcohol of the previous night, chicken and chips and of course my favourite, FUIC. I declared myself to be the winner when Nurl and G.Reg had to get up and go up-wind of me to escape the smell.

On Saturday, I joined millions of other Australians watching the AFL Grand Final on the teev. I wanted Syndey to win – I don’t really like West Coast. I think that they are the biggest bunch of pretty boys in the AFL and Ben Cousins is a tool. It was a great game to watch, especially with the morons in the channel 10 commentry team turned down and Roy & HG’s “Festival of the Boot: Part One” turned up. I was disappointed to see that Barry Hall was fucking useless for the second Grand Final in a row. I also hate to see kiddies presenting the medals to the winning team. I have been bagging this concept since some knuckle-head dreamed it up. As an idea, I don’t have a problem with it. In fact, it’s quite a good idea – the kiddies presenting the medals would get a huge thrill out of hanging a Premiership medal over Chris Judd or Ben Cousin’s head. However, as I have been saying for years, the players have just taken out the AFL Premiership – one of the biggest sporting events in Australia. They are going to be far too excited to actually follow the protocol of letting the kids hang it around their neck, then shaking their hand. Some of them did so and the kiddies presenting the medal would have been thrilled. However, there were some players who didn’t shake hands or just took the medal off the kids, ignored them and put it around their own neck. I’m sure those kiddies would have been crushed. Get ex-greats of the game or Andrew Demetriou to hand out the medals. The players are less likely to be fuckwits if an adult is presenting the medal to them.

While I’m on the subject of fuckwit sportsmen, why is so many professional soccer players can’t throw the ball in correctly? It’s not that fucking hard! As a junior, it was something we were taught at training. I’m sick to death of the foul throws in the EPL, A-League, international matches, etc and the fact that the fuckwit referees don’t pick them up. It’s not that fucking hard to do it correctly!

It seems to be time for me to have an iced coffee and a little lie done. Until next time…

Love and sloppy kisses,