Bunny Builds up her Back Line

Let's face it. Sometimes Fabi and Gian need the day off to get their hair done. When they're dal parrucchiere, who will cover the back for Dirtbunny?



This guy never needs the day off for hair-related reasons:




Phillip Lahm, German international and underrated fullback for Bayern Munich. He's got offense and defense, and just when you forget he's on the pitch, there he is making you look foolish.



Lahm may be understated, but this guy is not:





You never forget that Sergio Ramos, fullback for Real Madrid and the Spanish national team, is on the pitch.





Uhhh, he worries a lot about his look.

Without achieveing as much success as he probably thinks he has, looks-wise.

We love it when he kisses Raul on the lips. We love it when he tries to mark the Big Swede. We love his game. We hate his hair. We have been denying him his call-up because of the problem hair. We just can't reinforce certain kinds of behavior.

But. He has gotten a haircut, so he's in.

I know. It's a mullet/shag. But it's an improvement, and a step in the right direction. If he grows it out again, I'll have to put him in tonsorial rehab. But for now, he's in.

This haircut from days of yore, we approve:

I know, maybe Gian can help him with the hair! And if not, maybe Marco can kick the crap out of him.

More help in the back

Dirtbunny's strikers need some service. Fabi can't do it all by himself. It's time for more fullbacks. And since FC Dirtbunny already has the best left back in the world, why not the best right back in the world? And so, Gianluca Zambrotta, Azzurri defender, currently of A.C. Milan, and formerly of Juve, before the scandal. In addition to his mad skillz, he's pretty.







He's a defender who can defend. Duh, right? But some fullbacks are more about working the touch line and sending crosses to the center. That's important stuff, and Gian can do it. But defense is also important. Gian has both.





Here he is giving it hard to David Villa during the Euros:

And here he is getting some love from (who else?) Gigi:

Look! A little Juventini reunion! If only he would come back to the Bianconeri. Oh man, Gigi, Gian, Gio, and (we think) Capi in the back again. *sigh* That would be a defense to be reckoned with.

Why are Gigi's pants hitched up? And what is ADP doing with his belly button?

Hmm

Just because Dirtbunny is away doesn't mean you shouldn't continue to check to see what's going on. Lots of call-ups this week, for example. Plus big Champions League action.

I guess no one loves me.


Sniff

As if being here weren't bad enough, now I know no one misses me when I'm gone.

Speaking of the Dark Side . . .

Dirtbunny has forgiven the Matrix. He can be an enormous douchebag, but when he's not getting sent off for "dissent" (i.e., talking smack during the game) or kicking someone's ass, he's also a lot of fun:

The Special One hasn't been letting him play, and this is not good.

See? This photo is from last year (you can tell from Ale's haircut and the red Nike logo on the Bianconeri kit.)

He's old (like Capi), and his best days are probably behind him. Alex likes him, and so does Dirtbunny.

So, Marco Materazzi, Inter and Azzurri central defender, welcome to FC Dirtbunny.

Now, if you don't mind, let's work on those red cards, shall we? Getting sent off from the bench is not cool.

Gigi is an Idiot

An idiot? Un idiota? Si. Un idiota.

He is prone to dumb injuries, so he needs a decent back-up. Also, he and Julio Cesar have been engaged in the following press war for the last two weeks. I'm not going to quote anyone, but it goes like this:

Gigi: I can no longer regard myself as the best portiere in the world. Julio Cesar has surpassed me.

Julio: I am grateful for Gigi's kind remarks, but Gigi is the best portiere in the world.

Gigi: No, you are.

Julio: No, you are.

etc, etc, etc

This is all a tiresome load of bullshit, because Gigi is the best goalkeeper in the world. That said, I'm calling up Julio Cesar: Brazilian international and portiere for Internazionale Milan:





Reasons:


Number one: He's a damn fine goalkeeper. Almost as good as Gigi. Better than Petr Cech.

Number two: He's smart. Way smarter than Gigi. And Dirtbunny appreciates a man with brains. Such men are in short supply on FC Dirtbunny so far. I think Julio might actually be able to read.

Number three: Although he plays for the Nerazzurri, which is Il Diavolo's representative in Serie A, he doesn't seem to have absorbed the evil, which is good, because certain of Dirtbunny's players are starting to show tendencies towards the dark side of the force. Remember, Cesc, once you turn to the dark side, forever will it dominate your destiny.

Freefall continues

Bianconeri get a draw to the worst team in Serie A. At least it wasn't a loss. And now they drop to a firm third in the table, behind Inter and A C Milan. ADP scored a goal on a penalty kick, but missed a pile of shots and got subbed out in the second half. My internet service does not provide ESPN360.com, so I had to settle for the crappy gamecast. Too sad. Also, too early to relieve suffering through drink.


Dirtbunny: I don't want to go to Indianapolis.

ADP: I'll come with.

Dirtbunny: You have training.

ADP: I hate futbol. I'd rather go with you.

Dirtbunny: But you have a game next Sunday.

ADP: Fly to USA tonight, go with you to Indianapolis tomorrow, stay in hotel with you, fly back to Malpensa on Friday, play in Torino against Lecce on Sunday. No problem.

Dirtbunny: You can't be serious.

ADP: As serious as a heart attack. The hotel has a gym, right?

Dirtbunny: [! knows that hotel "gym" is no substitute for professional futbol training]

ADP: I'm a seasoned world traveler. This is no big deal.

Dirtbunny: [!!! can you even get to DC from Malpensa tonight? Answer: Yes, but he'd have to take a later flight to Indianapolis. Oh, wait. He played in Reggina, so he'd have to get to a major airport first. But he's rich. He'll figure something out.]

ADP: Come on Dirtbunny. You know you want to.

Dirtbunny: You'd do that for me?

ADP: Only the best for my Dirtbunny.

Dirtbunny: *sigh*

Indiana and Dogs

Lucky, lucky Dirtbunny. She has to, I mean she gets to, spend next week in fabulous Indianapolis at a mandatory conference put on by the Teeny Tiny Government Entity. Some people were hoping that it would get canceled on the account of the economy, but no. So I will be gone next week. I got me my plane tickets. I got me my special soap and shampoo so I'm not stuck with hotel soap and shampoo (I'd pack towels and a pillow if I had space). I got me my safety cup (so I can drink the brown water that hotels call coffee without spilling). I got me my Ipod loaded with learn-to-speak-Italian stuff. I got me my knitting projects (or I will decide which ones to take). I have programmed the DVR to capture the Champions League, Bundesliga, Serie A, and La Liga matches that I would otherwise miss. I have started the laundry.

Aside from hotel conference room chairs, hotel conference lunch buffets, hotel conference "coffee," and fabulous speakers on fabulous topics, I get some forced socializing with the people I work with every damn day. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to that, because it's spring time, and spring time is when Dirtbunny's depression likes to hit the skids, so socializing seems like an impossible task. But I also get the following amazing perks:

One: I will not have to cook my own dinner. This means I won't be having anything good for dinner until I get back, but still.

Two: Beagle-free time. I love them, but it will be nice not to have Tiki clawing at my boobs and Kirby kicking me in the back all the time.

Here we have Mr. Don't-Touch-Me using the object of his scorn as a pillow...

...as he stretches out and demands a belly rub.

He has it rough, poor little dog.

[sleeping in The Man's spot, as usual]

No beagle time means no more daily trips to the vet to drop off Kirby, and then second daily trips to the vet to pick him up. He's done with his radiation. I took some photos of his "graduation" (gag!) on his last day. I wasn't going to post them because they are out of focus, but then I decided that they capture Kirby's special nature perfectly. So here he is coming out after his last day of cancer treatment:

[kinda happy, as you can tell by the prancing front foot, but also, what are you going to do to me now? Where's Bunny? Where am I? What's happening?]

[There you are Bunny. Can we go?]

[I said let's go! Why aren't we going yet?]

Yes, they gave him a bandana to wear. Don't ask me why. His side effects are supposed to kick in while I'm gone. While it might be comforting to be around when they are happening, because I would have the illusion of control over the whole thing, I have to say that there's an upside to not being there while he's suffering. Poor little guy. We are going to do a treatment dress rehearsal tomorrow, so The Man will know The Correct Way We Do Things Around Here (tm), but if he decides to do things his way, well, what I don't know won't hurt me.

The Bianconeri play the Calabrians (Reggina) tomorrow, but it is not being broadcast. Reggina is dead last in Serie A, so the Zebras actually have a shot, but I won't get to see it. Oh well. To soothe myself, here are some photos that make Bunny happy:

[Gigi speaking the international language of "Who? Me?" to a Hibernian he recently flattened]

[Capi looking like he's about to beat the crap out of that wanker, Iaquinta. I'm not sure what Capi is really doing, and Iaqunita probably needed to have the crap beaten out of him--he usually does--but somehow I doubt that this is actually what is depicted here. Still, a girl can dream.]

[Mr. January offering you a platter of prosciutto, because he works part-time in the deli, and if you would just spend your tourism dollars in Emilia-Romagna, you might just bump into him. Yeah. Right. Please note that the German word for "parmesan" includes the root "cheese." In other words, in German, "parmesan" is "parmesancheese." And you wonder why German words are so long.]

And here's ADP sharing an affectionate moment with his protege-slash-groupie, Sebastian Giovinco. ADP is not a large man. He's listed as 5'8", which means that maybe, MAYBE, he's 5'7 1/2" with his boots on. Look how tiny Little Sebastian is. He's fast though. When he learns to defend and to finish his shots, he's going to be a humdinger.

Luca Lunedi

La La La La Lunedi. (look it up, if you can't figure it out)


La La La La Loooca


[Getting a flick from Rino, possibly for his poor taste in facial hair. Rino knows how to grow hair.]

[And now it's a festival of flicking, with Gio, Borri, Gamberini (behind Rino) all getting a piece of the big guy, and Materazzi over there on the right, biting down hard on his self-control, looking like he maybe doesn't trust himself to stop at a flick and maybe he might start up punching if he lets himself move.]



But that's not why we're here. Loooca is a native of Emilia-Romagna, and did a 12-months-of-Luca calendar in Germany to promote tourism in his home province, as if he's ever there now.

Yeah. We wish the photos all looked like this one. No, this calendar, which is all over the Interwebs, is a treasure trove of dorkalicious. I give you Mr. September:

I think the premise here is that a lovely young tourist has happened upon our big strapping local boy and is getting some help with reading her map. But what Dirtbunny sees when she looks at this photo is that poor Loooca is lost and is getting some help finding his way to his mommy's house.

As usual, I think Dirtbunny can be of assistance here. Dirtbunny never gets lost.

Bianconceri are not going to win the Scudetto

Dirtbunny: Why so grumpy, Alessa?

ADP: I don't know what you're talking about. I am a professional good sport. I feel nothing but the joy of competition, the glory of sport, and the fellowship of a match well played.

Dirtbunny: This is not a presser, babe. That half-hearted clapping for Zdenek's goal against Inter betrayed a certain bitterness. And it was there for all the world to see.

ADP: Oh Dirtbunny, you know me so well.

Dirtbunny: And there was no eye twinkle for Little Sebastian like there usually is.

ADP: I must admit that I was not pleased to be subbed out.

Dirtbunny: I know, baby.

ADP: I'm a striker, a trequartista, and lately, all they want me to do is provide service for that wanker, Iaquinta.

Dirtbunny: The best trequartista ever, baby.

ADP: I served him twice, perfect identical crosses twice in a row, and he blew it. Sure, you can miss the first one, but the second one was a gift. What is his problem?

Dirtbunny: He's a wanker, all right.

ADP: I can't believe Lippi calls him up and not me!

Dirtbunny: And that red card! Every idiot knows you get a yellow for taking your shirt off. What is he, 12?

ADP: Am I really so old? Am I really past it like they say?

Dirtbunny: No, dear, you're not past it. You scored a brace the other week.

ADP: Pippo got a hat trick.

Dirtbunny: Pippo has a midfield. And for every goal he scores, he's called offside 15, 20 times, at least. If you had Pippo's midfield, you'd score 30 goals a season.

ADP: Should I let them move me to centrocampista?

Dirtbunny: Oh, Alessa, only you know the answer to that. I love you no matter what position you play. I only want you to be happy.

ADP: Do you mean it?

Dirtbunny: Of course I do.

ADP: Then why are you always flirting with Ous Mellouli? I don't like it.

Dirtbunny: Well I don't like this:




Dirtbunny: What on earth were you thinking?

ADP: Don't change the subject.

Dirtbunny: OK. I'm sorry. He's only a swimmer. Who cares about swimmers?

ADP: Swimmers are big in Italia.

Dirtbunny: No more Ous. I promise.

ADP: That's my girl. Want to go shopping?

Dirtbunny: Oh Alessa, you know I don't care about your money. Let's stay home instead and I'll rub your shoulders.

ADP: It's going to thunderstorm. I'll get out the candles and open the soave.

Dirtbunny: You are too good to me.

ADP: Only the best for my Dirtbunny.

Liverpool out; Chelsea advances to Champions League semifinal

Football = suffering




The Blues of Satan took out Dirtbunny's beloved Bianconeri. Dirtbunny was beside herself. The Man thought that maybe Dirtbunny was overreacting just a tad and should maybe get a little perspective.



Now the Blues of Satan have taken out The Man's team. The Man is beside himself. No lectures, but here's something that might make The Man feel a little better:



Why, it's Edwin Van Der Sar! And who's that? Number 26? Why, it's John Terry! And is that a Champions League patch on the right sleeve of his kit? It is! This must be the famous John Terry penalty kick in the finals of the 2008 Champions League. Hmmm. Doesn't look like Eddie is going to reach that ball in time to save it, does it?






But wait! Is that the ball over there near the PlayStation ad board? It is! Wow, that's way wide of the goal. Could it be that Mr. Terry missed? (There's Petr Cech over there in orange in the background, hanging his helmeted head. Poor Petr. He played like ass last night, not that it helped the Reds.)

Eddie sure looks happy. Mr. Terry, ummmm, does not.

Feel better, Pookie?

And this is for Dirtbunny:

[Mikey Ballack gets a yellow card. heh heh]

A Week of Dirtbunny

Sunday

Blog about knitting. Think about watching Juve game. Can't do it. Too tired. Decide to take nap, despite solemn vow that no naps will be taken. On way to bed, notice this:

If you know what's wrong with this picture, then you are not The Man.

Take nap. Wake up when The Man brings me a latte and a brownie. Drink latte and attempt to eat brownie while in bed, but there are obstacles:

Are you happy to see me, or do you just want my brownie?

Brownie. Yarn Bandit uses his persuasive skills as best he can




by being patient, cute, and good, but he doesn't get a brownie. Kirby is less relentless,

and eventually he just plain old gives up.

Watch the Juve game. They get a draw to the Flying Donkeys. How can you clobber Roma and then give up three goals to the Donkeys at home? One would think that years of rooting for teams that don't win would have prepared me for this, but it hasn't.

Monday

It is Day Six of Eighteen of the radiation treatment for Kirby's cancer. So far, no side effects.

His leg is shaved at the treatment site, and his belly is naturally bald. He is starting to view all this as part of his routine now.

Tuesday

Get a spanking at work. Am informed that I am not supposed to view it as a spanking. OK, then.

Also, new glasses:

They are pink. They are sparkly. They are Italian. They are progressive lenses. Dirtbunny is a six-year old middle-aged woman in crisis, so these glasses are perfect.

Wednesday

Is that what I think it is?

New yarn! Hooray!

Thursday

Crack wise with a buddy in the ladies' room about Tuesday's non-spanking. Am ratted out by third party who I now know is a rat. Get lecture from Bossboy about discretion and am reminded that non-spanking was not a spanking. Also get a further two-part lecture that can be summarized like this:

PART THE FIRST: when you close your office door (which I do for various reasons), it looks like you're sulking, so keep your door open more often, and

PART THE SECOND: Could you please try just a little harder not to be such a pain in the ass?

Have heard discretion lecture before, many times. I never learn from it. Have heard pain-in-the-ass lecture before too. When it comes from Daddy, it sounds like this:

"SIMMER DOWN!"

and it is enraging. Lecture over, with door open, ponder how to manage the keep-door-open-but-don't-be-a-pain-in-the-ass conundrum. It seems insoluble, since Bunny is now, and always has been, a pain in the ass and if Bossboy thinks so, and he loves her, then Bunny is in real trouble. Hmmmm. Set aside conundrum for another time and decide to measure blood sugar.

423

Hell no. That can't be right.

423

Take another measurement immediately:

397

Well, no wonder I'm all jittery and weird. Call doctor, who insists I come in right now for emergency appointment. No can do because of cancer dog and so forth. Compromise with doctor. Go get cancer dog, then get dropped off at doctor while The Man feeds The Boys and takes Yarn Bandit into the yard.

Spend three hours at doctor. Upshot: medications are not working very well. Plus, stress is bad.

Oh really? Stress isn't good for you? Funny. My psychiatrist, my therapist number one, my therapist number two, and my regular doctor never mentioned that before. Resolve to stop caring about the non-spanking, but stuck with cancer dog's cancer transportation for two more weeks, and still haven't solved open-door-pain-in-the-ass conundrum.

Go home, put on PJs, and watch first half of Liverpool-Chelsea Champions League match.

Friday

A work-at-home day. Cannot get blood sugar under 190 despite whole day of not eating carbs and drinking lots of water and exercising. Feel extremely sorry for myself.

Watch second half of Liverpool-Chelsea match. More misery. Complete last item on to-do list and cross it off:

So it was last week's list. So what.

Watch Barcelona-Bayern Munich match. Looks like Loooca will not have to make good on his promise to run naked through the Marienplatz.

Achieve major knitting milestone, but will not mention it on the blog until The Man notices.

Saturday

Sorting through morning pills and notice that have been taking double of one pill and zero of another pill for at least a week when I ran out and broke out a new bottle and hey they look pretty much the same so who can blame me? Two revelations:

ONE: Hey! I bet this is why my blood sugar is out of whack! It's because I'm an idiot, not because I am in the end stages of a chronic progressive disease!

TWO: Hey! This is the kind of mistake the elderly make right before their caretakers decide to get them a home health aide or put them in a home.

Champions League

Yes, it's back. And Chelsea are playing Liverpool, and we are rooting for Liverpool. But Dirtbunny loves Petr Cech so much, despite his unfortunate association with Chelsea, that she is calling him up, now, before she knows the results of the game.


Petr Cech, Czech Republic International, Chelsea goalkeeper, helmet-wearing-massive-head-injury-that-nearly-killed-him survivor, gets along well with Gigi (we want Gigi to be happy), and looks like a superhero in his under layers:



I'll be planted in front of the tube for the rest of the evening. Don't bother me.

Italian Teams out of Champions League

Champions League play resumes this week with the first round of play in the round of eight.


Teams that are no longer in Champions League:

1. Inter (no more Zlatan)
2. Juventus (no more ADP, Gigi, Gio, or Camoranesi)
3. Real Madrid (no more Raul, Capi, Iker, or Sergio Ramos)
4. Roma (no more Panooch, Protz, Mexes, or Mirko)
5. Olympique Lyonnais (no more Fabi)
6. I forgot who six through eight are.

Teams that are still in Champions League:

1. Manchester United (ugh)
2. Chelsea (hate HAAAAAATE)
3. Porto (who?)
4. Barca (shrug)
5. Arsenal (ground zero for futbol halfwits)
6. Villareal (yawn)
7. Liverpool (Yay! sez The Man)
8. Bayern Munich (where Looca plays)

Hmmm. Loooca. Also possibly a halfwit, and probably the world's leading producer of dorkalicious. And yet......

According to The Spoiler on April 1, Loooca is quoted thusly:

“If we bring the Champions League trophy back to Munich, I promise: I will walk naked through the Marienplatz!”

So who are you rooting for?

Slave to the List

That's it, people. I've been working hard all day, and I hereby quit. I am not going to finish the to-do list unless I give up every joy life has to offer. Here are some things that are not going to get done today:

1. I am not going to clear off the dining room table. Dirtbunny regulars will remember that the dining room table is where Bunny dumps her detritus. Right now, it is loaded with papers from Uncle Sam, the contents of my commuting bag, various knitting projects, my glasses (probably, at least I hope that's where they are or else I am screwed), today's paper (unread), The Man's peacoat (not hung up, ever), Kirby's breakfast dish from the oncologist (they don't carry his special anti-itch food, so I have to pack it for him every morning), and Bunny's handbag, which itself contains puhlenty of junk and needs to be cleaned out.
2. Clean the bedroom. All I really have left to do is finish making the bed. I changed the sheets today but I hate making the bed. The mattress is heavy and I have to lift it to tuck in the covers properly. Yes, I'm sure you're all very surprised to hear that Bunny has to have the bedcovers done just so. When the maid changes the sheets, we rip it all out and start over again. Imagonna let The Man do this when he gets home.
3. Loooca. OK. He wasn't really on the list, but being realistic, I'm not leaving the house for the rest of the day, so it doesn't really matter where he is. I am not going to run into him, so it is not his lucky day.
4. I am not going to finish up the Bayern match from two weeks ago. The DVR is very busy recording World Cup qualifiers and I don't want to eff up the recordings. Plus Massi wasn't playing and Looca was injured, so no eye candy except Michael Rensing, and the team they were playing was dreadful, so few strikes on the goal and therefore very little camera time for Mikey.
5. I am not going to clean the kitchen counters. I did that once already, but then I made lunch and now they're a mess again. Fuck it.
6. Order new yarn. Yeah. I downloaded last week's bank transactions this morning and so there will be no spending of money on yarn until I get paid again, even thought it was going to be really cheap sock yarn. It can wait.
7. Switch over to the new month's parking pass. That would require leaving the house to go down to the end of the driveway. Not going to happen.
8. Blog about knitting and new yarn acquisitions. That would be the natural result of clearing off the dining room table, so no.
9. Make "coral and jade" for dinner. It requires gingerroot, and we're all out. I'll send The Man out for it when he also goes to ...
10. Pick up the dry cleaning. They're The Man's shirts. Let The Man pick them up. I've never been much of a wifey, and it frightens him when I try to be one now.
11. Wash the bathroom rugs. I'll get them into the wash, but I can't cross them off the list until they are dry, folded, and in the linen closet. The dryer is slooooow, so I just can't see staying up late enough to see this one through to the end.
12. Wash the towels. Same deal. They're in the wash now, but whether they'll end the day dry, folded, and put away is doubtful.
13. Soak and cook black beans. I've got dinners going for the next two days. Them beans can wait. I don't even like them very much anyway.

Here's one thing on the list that I WILL finish today:

1. Clean Kirby's ears and put medicine on his feet.

He hates it, but I'm not going to put that one off any more.

So, the plan for the rest of the evening:

1. Pack bag for work tomorrow.
2. Pack Kirby's breakfast.
3. Make dinner.
4. Eat dinner.
5. Knit on something, but not on the potholder, cuz that's too hard.
6. Fold the sheets when they're dry and put them away.
7. Take Yarn Bandit out to water the bushes before he waters the leg of my coffee table again.
8. Make brownies.
9. Eat brownies.
10. Take a shower, finally. Working at home is AWESOME! There's no one here to notice how bad my hair looks.
11. Boss The Man around and assign him chores to do (he loves that, and that's how he knows that I'm awake).
12. Watch some futbol, but not the Azzurri, even though they are playing RIGHT NOW! because the cable provider is not running their game against the Hibernians until 1 am, so that game is for tomorrow after work. DON'T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS. I WANT TO SEE FOR MYSELF.
13. Look at pictures of Mikey on the Interwebs for a few minutes, then log off the laptop.
14. Mess with Kirby's ears and feet, because it needs to be done.
15. Daydream about ADP until The Man gets home.
16. Go to bed early. Daydream about ADP until I fall asleep.

And that's enough. Bunny over and out.