natural klepto

i steal stuff. ok, not really. but, if i go to whole foods or some other choose-where-to-sit kind of eating establishment, i do choose my seat based on what was left there. for example, did someone leave a magazine? a newspaper? yes? then that's where i go.
today, it was the sports section of the houston chronicle. england beat ecuador, 1-0. yesterday, it was the comics. cathy had to buy a pumice stone and garfield is still fat.

today, i went to whole foods and blockbuster. before that, i was bonding with the floor of my room. we've become fast friends, my floor and i. it knows my sorrows. i know it has none. i'd say it's a fairly equal, give-and-take kind of relationship.

football, not futbol

last night, my roommate schooled me in the way of american football. understand -- to him, it is an occult art, and so even i, one who has never even watched the "traditional" thanksgiving game, found that i was fascinated. i get it.

i'm sure my approach to "getting" football breaks every man law set forth by the man council and that, soon, the man council KGB/CIA will have pulled me into their next commerical wearing egg in my hair. there must be some rule against a bookish girl sitting on her flowered couch, listening to football but thinking about psychology and kinesthetic intelligence and then having the moxy to say that she "gets it."

but people. the amount of effort poured into creating a microcosmic battle in which men are arranged, forgive the cliche, almost like pieces of a chess set and then physically pitted against each other using pre-memorized tactical strategies while following this elaborate set of rules, rules that even assign penalties for "unsportsmanlike conduct" or "excessive celebration," is so ridiculous to me that it suddenly makes sense.

of course. of course you risk life and limb to get the ball 10 yards. of course.

i more or less expect, some day in the future, for some irate fan to throw a drink at me for asking too many questions. it's ok. i'll just wear a raincoat.

ronaldinho has the face of a mule

but the greatest hair in the history of mankind. i said it here -- mankind. now i haven't watched that much soccer, but it seems surreal for a man to be playing in a world cup match and grin, from ear to ear, for an entire game.
would that i had this kind of confidence.

so today, after watching the croatians wage war on the brazilians, life is pretty sweet.

that's all i've got for now.

a whole new world...

But, I'm not on a magic carpet ride. I'm watching the World Cup. It's amazing what happens when someone explains the, all of, 5 rules or so of this game. Now, with the mysteries dispeled, I have become addicted. Soccer -- subversive, subjective, aggressive, fast-paced, creative, and gorgeus -- is actually a sport I enjoy watching. And as a Houstonian who didn't even bother watching the Astros in the World Series, I think this is a big step.
Here's the thing though: If all sport were this pretty, perhaps I would have paid attention all these years. And by pretty, I don't just refer to the talent. (Though soccer men do take ... the entire cake.) I mean that the gory enthusiasm with which Mexico creamed Iran today (3-1) left me screaming, despite the fact that I was quite alone, in my bedroom, still in my workout clothes.