Football and How to Pick 'em!

On Sunday Justin and I put together a packed lunch and toddled off to the football. I was very lucky and managed to get 2 tickets in a corporate box. Best seats in the stadium and they were free. These are the types of tickets we like! We arrived and met the folks we were sitting with. By chance we were only sharing with three others who were just as pumped as we were… for the afternoon out not so much the football.

The first match was Barcelona v some Egyptian team. I don’t even know their name, that’s how interesting it was. Final score was 4-1 Barcelona. We all sat around drinking, chatting and just enjoying the moment. We cheered at the appropriate moments and laughed when the goal keeper had to go off but not before he was poked in the eye by the ref.

The second match was the big one. The game that everyone had come to watch: Tottenham Hotspurs V Celtic. Now this is where I tell you that I haven’t a clue about football. I couldn’t even tell you who/what Celtic are/is. I was calling them Keltic until I was corrected in a fit of laughter by my peers. The only reason I know who Tottenham are is because they’re from North London, around the Seven Sisters area. Chav City! Taking my sever lack of knowledge into account, the 4 guys took me under their wing and did some explaining before the match started. It’s Celtic with an ‘S’ sound and they come from Scotland not Ireland. It’s ‘Spurs’ not ‘Dirty Chavs in Yellow’ and Spurs aRE the favourite to win.

The Dirty Chavs in Yellow to win? I was planning to put a fiver down and have a flutter on the match. I never gamble so I thought I could spare a fiver to make it more interesting for myself. I was going to put it down on the favourites. Let’s face it, I haven’t a clue and the favourites are always a safe bet. CHANGE OF PLAN! No way in hell was I betting on Luminous Yellow Chavs. Celtic maybe crap but I’d rather loose my fiver before I back the Spurs. I walked up the betting booth and asked the lady to help me place my bet. I don’t know how these things work and she raised her eyebrows as I gave her the blank from and my money! “Please may I bet £5 on the green guys? Keltic or Seltic, what ever they’re call.”
She started laughing at me, “Hun. Spurs are favourites to win. They are playing their first team. Are you sure you want to go for Celtic?”
“I don’t like Luminous Yellow. The green guys have a Japanese dude on their team. I think it’s pretty cool to have a Japanese dude on a Scottish team. I’ll stick with them.”
She filled out my form and took my money. “Odds of ‘the green dudes’ winning are 9/2.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they don’t have a chance in hell and you’re pretty much the only person betting on them.”
“But at least they’re culturally diverse and even more so, they look lovely in their white and green stripes!"

I wandered back to the box and took my seat next to Justin. As I sat down I realised that while I was planning on rooting for Celtic, the Luminous Yellow fans were just below us… and in force. Horns, whistles, flags etc it was quite scary. The looks I look for cheering for the other side. Thank god for box seats or I would have been beaten up. I was clapping and cheering for Celtic. The others in the box took my lead and together we pissed off half the stadium!

The funny part was when they started to get up and leave halfway through the second half. I thought it was a bit unsportsmanlike like but you would leave too if your team where the favourites to win but have somehow ended up on the wrong side of 2-0! The more time past, the louder our box got until finally the final whistle was blown. I picked the winners based on shirt colour and I told them all! Now who’s laughing???

I went back to the betting booth with my winning slip. Low and behold the same lady was there.
“Well I’m not sure how you picked it but it looks like the ‘culturally diverse green dudes’ won.” Grinning from ear to ear I collected my winnings a bit like the Japanese dude did when the final whistle went.

So you may laugh at how I pick my teams, whether it is based on what colour they’re wearing, what area they come from, who has the most colourful shoes, who has the longest fly away hair etc. But who is the one laughing with 9/2 odds and a final result of 2-0?

Almighty Spurs- more like, Ew gross, of all the colours in the world, why Luminous Yellow!? They don’t stand a chance!

I Like My Rut!

So Justin and I have been together for quite a while. Before that, we were very close friends and house mates. Over this time we learnt just about everything about each other. Now the learning stage has past and we’ve entered into stage 2 – The Comfortable Couple.

I’m a strong believer that ‘a rut’ isn’t always a bad thing. I don’t think being a ‘Comfortable Couple’ is anything to be ashamed of. I like the fact I can come home and throw on my old rags, chew on biltong and fart while watching Hollyoaks. Personally, I’m glad the days of having to impress him are over. God knows those days were not only long and expensive but my back would ache from sitting up straight the whole time. Yep, call me Tom-Boy-Ted but I’m more than happy to let it all hang out in front of Justin these days. Anyway who is he to judge with his burping and other man-like personal habits?

The other night we had a discussion over who should cook dinner. I’m the first to admit that I was at the back on line when they were handing out the domesticated genes. Truly, I failed my mother and grandmother. They can only look on in horror, as my idea of cleaning my bedroom is shoving it all in the cupboard. I would happily get a cleaner in before donning rubber gloves and cleaning out the oven. Cooking is low on my “that-sounds-like-fun” list. Now obviously seeing as I don’t have a cleaner, I have to clean and tidy the house but it’s definitely not by choice and often done in a strop when I’m angry at the world. But with all that in mind, I do all the clothes washing every week without complaint! Without me, Justin would have no clean underwear, so credit where credit is due please.

“I cooked dinner last night. I thought you were going to cook for me tonight.”
“I’m sorry honey. I didn’t realise you wanted me to cook. I thought we were having leftovers and salad stuff. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll cook a nice big meal tomorrow night.” And once I’m done down burning that and smoking up the kitchen, I promise to go out and buy a KFC family bucket.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just we had a braai and I thought you were going to sort out the leftovers.”
“I’m sorry honey. Miscommunication.” I wrapped my arms around him and as I squeezed him into a hug, out came a fart noise! Now this is where the ‘Comfortable Couples’ come into it.
“I really am sorry honey and I promise I’ll cook tomorrow night.” I pulled him away from the sink and continued the hug while he giggled at his self made noises and smells.
“Okay… hehe”
“See this is love Justin. I’m still hugging you even though you smell like turd.”
“I know! And it’s funny because it’s true!”

Late Night Netball

Last Wednesday night after a brilliant game of netball, the team and I made our way to the exit of the school where we play. Slight problem; the exit wouldn’t let us exit. We pushed, we pulled and we even kicked the bloody door but we couldn’t get free.

Us being the followers we are, we looked to our team captain for support. Becky took centre stage and gave the door a good seeing too before she turned back to us in defeat, “Yep, it’s locked.”

This is what we faced (But the door was shut and locked)

We’re the type of girls who don’t give in so easily, we’re a feisty bunch and frankly no locked gate is going to stop us from getting home. “Can we climb over?” We looked around and all contemplated how we were going to get over the door and fence. It was going to be quite the effort. Seeing as we’re netballers and not cheerleaders any sort of human pyramid is out of the question. Belle then pointed out the sign that stopped the idea of climbing over, “What the hell is anti climb paint?”

So there we were all 7 of us, in complete despair and fits of laughter at our predicament. I took to the pedestrian’s passing by, “Excuse me, excuse me!” 2 walked passed before I got someone’s attention, “We’re locked in. Could you please try the door from that side?” The nice man pulled and pushed on the door but it didn’t budge. We thanked him and he moved on.

By this point it had gone beyond a bit of a mystery and we were begging to panic.
“Is there another exit?”
“How the hell are we going to get out?”
“Maybe get the grounds man?”

Just then we heard the umpire call out, “Girls, Girls!” We looked over and saw the teams that were now playing and the umpires all doubled over in fits of laughter. The Umpire composed herself enough to finish, “Press the release button!”

Wow, release button, so that's what that big green thing is!

Kell v Beast: Attack of Trays

Like wine and cheese, with age, I am maturing into a finer specimen of women. I possess quite the evil brain and the courage to bleed the weak dry… when it comes to trays anyway.

Now if you are a regular reader of my blog, you would be fully up to date on the Kell v Beast: Attack of Trays saga. If not, here’s the general story; I collect trays at work so I can get a free tea. The woman AKA The Beast, who runs the café, feels that I cheat her out of this tea. May I point out that the tea in question is only worth 40p and I am breaking no rules in collecting 50 trays for a cup of tea. Such behaviour is encouraged by the cafe staff!

So now the story continues. Just like an ancient war tactic I have put the café under siege. As the Spanish did to the Moors in the 1400s, I am bleeding them dry of their supplies until they can no longer function and beg for my mercy. At which point I will sell what’s rightfully theirs back to them for a price much higher than what was originally asked.

Yes people, I'm going in for the muffin and don’t under estimate the lengths I will go too.

No one expected the Kellie Inquisition

She's going to kill me with a tray!

There’s laughable and then there’s gob smackingly laughable!

If you’ve read my past blogs, you would be well aware of my tray collecting at work. I like collecting my trays! Not only do I help clean up the area, I’m also being eco –friendly AND I get a free tea for my hard work. I truly do not see the harm in taking advantage of the free tea for 50 trays system… even if I am the only person doing it.

On Friday I went down stairs with a pile of 50. Never in my life have I cheated on the number of trays I have handed in. You want 50 for tea? I will give you 50 dead on, nothing more, nothing less. I mean really, it’s not worth the bad karma for a cup of flipping tea!
I waited in line with my trays, “Hi, I have 50 trays. May I please have a cup of tea?”
Now the lady behind the counter is a bit of a beast on a power trip. I’m used to her suspicious eyes following me. Today she replied with, “How many you got there?”
I replied very sweetly, “50. Like last week.”
The beast eyed me up like a dog about to strike a tennis ball, “Don’t put them on the big pile, just put them aside.”

After a comment like this, I’m making the assumption that she wants to count them. Firstly, not only is it sad that I collect the stupid things it’s also even sadder that I do it for a free tea worth 40p. Now the beast wants to count them? Are we really going to have a power struggle over 40p? I guess we are.

I put the pile down behind the bin. If she doesn’t trust me and wants to count them, first she has to squeeze in behind the bin to fetch them. She narrowed her eyes at me as I came back to the counter. “Tea?” One word, the beast is ANGRY.
“Yes please.” She poured me half a cup of tea.
Now hold up! Did I bring you 25 or 50 trays? Fill it up Scotty. I want my 50 trays worth of tea please.
“Could you please fill it up a little more?”
With a grunt, (yes the beast actually sounds like a beast) she filled my cup up to the brim with hot water… my money is on she did it on purpose. Not to worry, I simply poured a little out with a smile.

I left the café with my colleague and together we had to giggle at what just went down. “Do you really think she’s going to count them?”
“With out a doubt. She’s had it in for me since the cake incident.”
“What, there was a cake incident?”
“Incident is putting it lightly!”

There is NOTHING Sweet about Caroline!

Neil Diamond. One of the greatest artists of all time… save it for someone who has a strong stomach.

I just went down to the café and what did they have coming over the toast Area, Sweet Caroline while everyone else nodded their heads hummed along, I made a bee line for the exit. There is only one artist I can’t stand and that’s Neil Diamond.

My step father’s mother has a fixation on him. All I ever heard when I was around her was Neil Friggin’ Diamond. Every weekend, day in, day out she always had Neil Diamond on. The sound of his voice now takes me back to tortured times. I can’t bare it. When you’re little you are immune to only so much. One Christmas I cracked!
It was just after my brother was born. Mum hosted a little Christmas Shindig at our house for that side of the family. It just so happened that one of the presents I got was a Spice Girls CD. Mum had anticipated that I was going to be pushed aside for the new baby. She made sure that I had an ample amount of Spice Girl products and accessories to keep me amused for the entire day. So while I had a Spice Girls CD to dance around too with my new Spice Dolls, I was more than happy to let everyone ignore me. (Yes, Spice Girls… But that’s another story for another therapist!)

I was grooving around Spicing up My Life with miniature Posh and Ginger when all of a sudden, “Why don’t you turn that off and put this on.” Crap, My step father's mother spoke to me! I never liked it when she talked to me. She only ever talked me when I did something wrong or she had found some type of fault with me that she wished to point out. Honestly, I get it, you don’t like me. That’s fine, I don’t like you and yes, your son is with a woman who already has a kid… deal with it lady.
“What type of music is it?” If you want me to turn the Spice Girls off, it better be bloody good!
“Neil Diamond’s Christmas Carol Compilation.”
Now if I had been a few years older I would have replied with, “Not a chance in hell, Crazy Lady!” but seeing as I was only 11 and quite scared of her, I stood on the spot and cried… and cried… and cried a little louder until mum came in.

“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to turn the Spice Girls off. I don’t like Neil Diamond.”
Crazy Lady butted into the mother daughter bonding session. “Don’t be silly, turn it off and put this on.”
Now, it’s no secret that mum isn’t her biggest fan either. But she had to keep the peace.
“Kell, how about you turn it off for a while.” Mum tried to sooth the sobs away.
“It wasn’t sob even sob loud.” Keep in mind I was 11.
Again Crazy Lady added her 2 cents, “Yes, go play in your room and leave the adults alone.”
Mum left the room before she threw a chair at her.

I stood there and slowly took my CD out. Crazy Lady tapped her foot impatiently. Maybe if she hadn’t tapped her foot I wouldn’t have done it. Nah, even if she had asked nicely I still would have done it. As I took the CD out I looked up to her with a smile, “There you go. Would you like me to put your music on?”
“Yes, I don’t know how this works. You do it.”
I smiled to myself as I walked up the hall. All I could hear was “It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? I can see the CD is spinning but there is no sound?”
I waited till I got to my room before I pulled out the stereo’s remote control from under my shirt. Like to see you un-mute the stereo with no control, biatch!