Some call it a hopeless case of sadistic glee. Some call it a form of self torture to the extreme, to the point where you get taken away during the night kicking and screaming. Yeah, that's exactly why I went to see North play Geelong the other Friday.
But first, to other matters of relative importance. I had to show up earlier in the afternoon to hand in a final version of one of my crazy 3000 word essays, which is a lot like the length of one of these posts. Handing stuff in during swotvac isn't exactly my idea of fun, but it's not like I had any other choice - these were the instructions my lecturer gave us. Speaking of lecturers, I found it kind of funny that her entire demeanor had changed for our final lecture a couple of weeks before. You know it's probably not a good thing when she describes the quality of draft papers as 'mediocre to awful', or something to that effect. Ten out of ten for the constructive criticism there... I imagine she possibly got out of the wrong side of the bed that morning, or perhaps she had read all the QoT forms from the week before that. Odd how feedback does that to some people.
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Afterwards I went to JB to grab myself a copy of the excellent Veronica Mars on DVD. How good is it? It's probably the reason I won't get more than 80% on my history exam this semester, that should be plenty explanation enough. I have this tendency to get into niche shows no one appreciates that usually end up getting cancelled due to the lack of fart jokes or the ever present nasality of Ray Romano. I hate to say it, but those reruns of Raymond make me really miss the IPL and the charming amateurism (shameless plug here - author, anyone?) of the presenters.
Anywho I was walking down the aisles looking at other new releases when I walked past this one guy holding a copy of 'PCD' by the Pussycat Dolls before promptly doing a double take. I knew someone had to be buying that garbage, but I'd at least hide it between two somewhat more respectable acts while walking through the store. Will someone please think of the children? But then again, if someone is looking to corner the stripper turned subpar R&B style pop market, they've probably arrived too late... this corner is taken. Ironically the 3rd series of Mars in the US was preempted to show "America's Got Lip Syncers" so it really all ties up so very well.
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But onto the main event, the moment I've been stalling out for the last few hundred words. The cause of all my pain. And it was all voluntary too, which is oh so odd. Usually I prefer to attend matches where I at least know we have a decent chance of winning, that way it at least gives you a reason to pay attention and not drown your sorrows in cup after cup of overpriced beer scented ditchwater.
I'm not sure how Josh got us these seats, but at least he offset the coolness by the fact we were deep inside the Geelong cheersquad zone. It could be worse I suppose, it's not like there were any bogans sitting directly around us. The first quarter was forgettable enough, the Cats really outkicked us at most opportunities and by the end it began to look a bit ominous for us Roos fans. The second and third were a lot better, we stayed in touch for most of it and made up for that last quarter quite well. Dare I dream to fathom the unfathomable?
Well you all know how it ended, so I won't bother you with too many details. It was fun being right next to the action though, with quite a few plays occurring in our general vicinity. Tough gig yelling words of encouragement when the rest of the crowd behind you is giving them abuse. I doubt they hear much of it out there anyway, it's all white noise to them.
Seeing the Auskick kiddies out during half time was pretty damned impressive. You have the usual bunch of kids who don't appear to know how to catch a ball, let alone kick one, and then you have the future star in the making who's seen far too many videos of their heros taking speccies and 60 metre goals. This one kid managed to dominate the ground managing to be everywhere at once, taking mark after mark. The best part was that he almost always played on by kicking it to himself and running away with the ball, often ending up bypassing his opponents (and his teammates) into what was often an open goal. What a star.
Strangely the red team ended up playing a very Sydneyesque defensive style of play, while the blue team played out a bit like Carlton, all over the place except for the one star I assume would be in the Fevola mould. Finishing the mini game was fun when all the kiddies ran past us giving us high fives. That experience was probably a lot funnier than it should be, but they had such enthusiasm and we were on our second beer flavoured substitute, so what the hell.
By the end of the night, I ended up having one real beer during dinner beforehand and three pretend beers at the game. Kavi was brave (and rich) enough to try out the rest of the spirits menu which consisted of more of the same - watered down bourbon and coke and a vodka and lemon premix, light on the, well everything I guess. If the government is truly cracking down on the alcopops craze then I'd say they got their inspiration from the football catering folk. Eight freaking dollars for a bourbon and coke?! Lucky for Kavi it was my round... damn fine timing indeed.
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One more thing before I go. This link here by the good folks at Engadget discusses the benefits of a super absorbent material that stops sounds from being heard halfway across the neighbourhood. That's pretty cool with me, the needless jabs at Hall and Oates brought a frown to my face. Fortunately said frown was turned upside down by the comments by the defenders of old pop music. Following this link will probably lead you to a state of apathy or confusion, but for the 2% of you out there who care, you'll love them.