Dirtbunny.net

Eat, Beagle, Eat!

2012-01-26T19:51:00.000-05:00

Breakfast:

Bread chunks soaked in milk? No
Dog food? Hell no.

2pm when Bunny Gets Home:

Bread chunks soaked in milk? Yes, please.
Banana? Um, okaaay, I guess.
Tuna salad that fell out of Bunny's sandwich? Yes, oh God yes!
Teeny chunk of cheese? Meh.

Suppertime:

Dog food in the dog dish? No way.
Cucumber chunks from the salad Bunny is making? Yum.
Dog food from Mr. D's hand? Mmmmmmaybe, but only a little.
Bell pepper chunks from the salad Bunny is making? Chew chew, spit it out.
Lettuce from the salad Bunny is making? Lettuce! AWESOME! Chew chew. Wait. I hate lettuce. Why do you keep giving me lettuce? Spit it out.
Broccoli bits off Bunny's plate? Yum.
Bits of ham off Bunny's plate? Yum.
Cooked carrots from the special supper plate of people food Bunny made just for beagles? Yay! Yum.
Bits of ham from the special supper plate of people food Bunny made just for beagles? Ecstasy!
Cooked carrots from the special supper plate of people food Bunny made just for beagles offered after the beagle realizes that there is ham? Ptooey. Where's the ham?
Broccoli bits from the special supper plate of people food Bunny made just for beagles offered after the beagle realizes that there is ham? Sniff, sniff. That is NOT ham. *rejects*
Bits of ham from the special supper plate of people food Bunny made just for beagles? *Snoopy dance*
Cold boiled potato from the special supper plate of people food Bunny made just for beagles offered after the beagle realizes that there is ham? BRING ME THE HAM, WOMAN!
Cucumber chunks offered after the ham is gone? bleck
Cold boiled potato mixed with a little milk and the scrapings of ham bits from the serving platter? Yes, but I'm leaving behind the bits of potato that are still solid.

Old Lady Post: Lost Boys in the Middle East

2012-01-25T15:28:00.000-05:00

Originally posted on January 12, 2012

Um, yeah. So it turns out that there is such a thing a a post that's too large. I was surprised to discover this given some of the monstrously oversized Inter posts we have seen in past days, but there it is. That means the end of the last post now gets to be its own post.

OK, then, let's get in the way-back machine and head back to December. Let's join the boys in training, shall we?

I was going to say that maybe I can back off Defcom Golf because I could look at Pepe without wanting to punch him, but now I see that he's twiddling his facial hair like a cartoon villain. Safety first. We remain at Defcom Golf.

Pirlo, awake, relaxed, and not posing.

Arturo: Go aWAY, man.

Huh? Did the ball explode on the way to the goal or something?

Michele! I never once noticed you until you signed this summer. Now I can't get enough of you even though you play so little I have no sense of whether you are any good or not. I'm not sure why, either.

Glad to see you pal.

Oooooooh. Paolino has impressive quads. He's a mountain boy, so he's fine wearing short shorts in the winter, bless him.

Love!

Yeah, well, this one is from a different day, but how else are we going to get any PDC? Hm?

Leo trains too, I guess, tho occasionally you might think not if all you saw was his match performance. You're not finished cooking yet, sweetie. You need some consistency. And a wee hit of hair on your head.

I'm no expert, but I think this bottle pron falls a bit short. Something is missing. The ears are nice and pink. nom nom

Elia.

I want to believe. I really do.

*sigh*

Milos. *sigh* He's like the relative you don't talk about because it upsets Mom, but some of you keep in touch and slip him a little cash once in a while.

He's trying to get it together, but no one's ready to invite him over for Christmas dinner. Yet.

*sex*

I wonder if this is when he thought up the surfing push-ups?

She's kind of cute. You think she'll go out with me?

Shhhhhhh. Working very hard. Do not distract him.

Esti

Jack

Marcostorari

Brazilian Primavera Gabriel Appelt, supposedly a big up-and-comer.

Grosso. Still here.

This little Derdiyok lookalike is Carlos Garcia, Swedish baby and new Primavera. I want to like him, but after Zlatan, I find it hard to trust Swedes.

Marco Motta. It's weird that there seem to be no transfer rumors about him at all.

Maybe he's not newsworthy enough to generate rumors.

Maybe no one wants him. That's sad. I mean, he sucks, but he's lovable.

Aaaaaaand, now he's showing tongue while concentrating on Alessa's ass. Next!

Oh, Loooca. I love your goofy faces and your hairy knees.

Is that a Lotto logo? Is that the best shoe endorsement you can get?

Green-Eyed Gorilla of Love

Manninger! squeee

Manninger!'s pink-cheeked happy face.

Manninger!'s pink-cheeked serious face.

Manninger! with Gigi, infant Croatian goalkeeper Simon Sluga, and his infant Croatian tongue, showing some real potential there.

The only bb goalkeeper I want to see in stripes is Carlo Pinsoglio. Every other one is a potential competitor and I am constitutionally dubious. If I let him in, there may be no room for Carlo.

Plus, do we really want non-Italian youngsters learning at the knee of Gigi Buffon? We wouldn't want hi to take Gigi's secrets and then use them to kick Azzurri ass, now would we? I know that rests on the assumption that some Azzurri striker, somewhere, will someday get a shot on goal, but it could happen.

And again with the Luca Marrone. Jumping over stuff, and keeping his arms in so he can't use them to help with balance. I'll be he's got some abs under there.

Alas, the zebes tend to keep their shirts on in December.

And this one is Stefano someone. Stefano.....BRB Stefano Beltrame, another Primavera.

And there is exactly one sad, blurry little shot of Vincenzo Iaquinta. *sniffle*

Also in December, there were zebras roaming around signing stuff.

And then everyone got about 2 hours to kiss their children and have a brief conjugal visit and then it was off to Dubai and Saudi Arabia for winter camp. This is what Juventus.com wants you to see about the trip to Dubai and Saudi Arabia.

1. This is the man we call "Sleepy"?
2. Someone's been spending too much time at Grosso's house. It's OK to let your tan fade a little in the winter. We'll still love you if you get a little pale.
3. See the haircut? Nice job. Short, but the scary ears are properly covered and the loveliness of the waves and highlights are preserved.

Luggage! How exciting. They're all labeled with code so you can't even say "PAZIENZA'S DUFFEL BAG OMG."

Speaking of Pazienza.... Well at least he was invited to go on the trip. Marcolino, Grosso, Vince, and Loooca stayed home. I suppose I need not mention that non-person Amauri also stayed home.

Then again, some people didn't have to be invited to show up. You know what I think? I think he's lurking around to chat with ADP about playing in the Middle East, which is upsetting to even think about. Plus, he's dressed like the building maintenance guys at my office. The only thing missing is a name patch that says "Douchebag." Whatever you may think of him, he sure does have a beautiful smile. Oh, OK, don't mind me. I'm still angry about 2009-10. I may someday get over it (a scudetto or Euro championship would help).

World Champions one and all. BRB *goes off to have warm and fuzzy thoughts about 2006*

waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! They're all getting older and it won't be long before they will all be out of the game and our new heros will end up being guys like Bobo Acquafresca and nothing will ever be the saaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmme! *wails*

I need to move on.

Ants. Photos of ants dull the senses.

Ah. So that's what this tour is all about. The sponsors. It is, you know. Remember how after last year's trip to the panettone factory I was griping that The Italian Store carried no Balocco products and they must be anti-Zebe and blah blah blah? Well look what's on the shelves now:

If I hadn't been overwhelmed already by my haul of booty, I seriously would have bought some, even those are just sugar wafers....

....with less (probably) artificial coloring and a hazelnut option unheard of around here, and I really don't like them very much, and the Balocco ones are bite-sized which means I'd have to eat the whole bag at once and then I'd undoubtedly be sick. It's only now that I realized that the whole reason Balocco pays money to put its name on Zebra shirts is so bozos like me will see the product, associate it with the squad, and buy it. I mean, I knew that, but now I get it. I have felt the power of advertising pushing me to buy something I wouldn't think of buying otherwise. Duh, Bunny. That's what advertising is. So then I thought I'd just boycott them, but that seemed stupid because (1) I've only ever seen the product one time in my life and (2) I could unintentionally end up buying a product that indirectly supports Inter or something. Consumption is so political!

But I was talking about football, wasn't I?

Juventus wants you to know that its photographers are genuine artistes.

Well if that ain't art then I don't know what is.

Here's our young Dutch Lost Boy.

More art.

5 points if you know who the guy on the left is.

Art.

Art.

Art. Art. Art.

Minus 5 points if you admit you know who that one is.

Our principino is prettier than your principino.

I don't get those of you who insist that Claudio's eyes show no soul.

A BUM crotch shot.

Prince-Désir Gouano, teenaged French defender from the Primavera, tagging along with the grown-ups (and Pepe). I KNOW! I may have to rethink my inflexible prejudice against French men.

BAM! Good Lord. Is he doing this on purpose or does it just happen naturally?

BAM!

Hey, Michele. I know you never play, but don't leave, OK?

Hello there, thigh vein, my old friend.

Why does he never take his shirt off?

UNDERLAYERS!

Luca Marrone.

Höður Björgvin Magnússon, our little Icelandic ray of sunshine.

Awwww, relax, sweetie. It's football. No one is asking you to solve any quadratic equations or calculate the cosine of anything.

Um. Er *awkward pat*

UNDERLAYERS!!!!!
*shakes fist at the sky*

Is there some sort of award or prize we can give to that lock of Gigi's hair that falls into his eyes and across his nose oh-so-sexily? Outstanding Service to Fangirls? Best Performance by Hair in the Category of Not Really Trying?

I love him. I really do.

Frederik Sørensen. Check it. That's the BUM back there. Lichtsteiner is paler than the giant blond Dane.

Gossip is that the suits are selling half of him so he can go somewhere and actually play. That would be a good idea, I guess, so long as he's still ours. Sell half of to some team with no money so we can be sure to get him when the co-ownership is over.

Yay! Michele again.

Oh, Leo, why dontcha let your hair grow about a half-inch or so?

Another one who steers with his fingers.

Aw, Gio looks like he's got s monster headache. *pat pat*

Whining during training. Nice.

Headache must be gone. What a smile. *le sigh*

Fuck me. WANT.

Never mind. I'll never have sex again.

aaaaaaand now it's night.

Monsters come to life in the dark. (Ew. That pink mark on his left knee looks like a gruesome surgery scar.)

A lady does not stomp around the pitch like a water buffalo. A lady glides. See? Gliiiiiiiiiiiide. Now you try.

Barza: Not a lady and does not want to learn to glide.

Claudio has the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away with mind bullets. That's telekinesis, Kyle.

I'm dying to know what Claudio is up to back there. He's got his hands in the evil villain position......

Jumping.

Um, I think I felt a little twinge, but it's gone. All I can see now is George Michael post-Wham! and pre-men's room.

And so at some point they left winter camp in Dubai and flew to Saudi Arabia. They would have flown right? I'm pretty ignorant about the non-America part of the world. They look pretty close to each other on the globe, but I'll go out on a limb here and guess it's not a matter of taking the ferry across the river.

Whatever. There there behind the giant blond Danish cellphone holder is a bus. Maybe they just took the bus. That would explain why PDC looks like he just spent three days on a bus.

If you've just spent three days on a bus, you can hide your puffy face and red eyes with a hot pair of shades. ~~I see the Dubai license plate. It's messing with my narrative, so let's all agree to ignore it, OK?~~

I guess Milos rode underneath with the luggage. He's looking reeeeeeally disoriented.

Hold the fucking phone. Is Leo wearing dayglo sunglasses? Only someone too young to remember the 80s could possibly think that's OK. Let's see. Leonardo Bonucci, born in Viterbo, Italy on May 1, 1987. In 1987, Dirtbunny was......shit. Never mind.

Werk it Claudio.

I am going to have to have Corey Hart Del Piero take me shopping for sunglasses when he comes home. And not at Target either.

These sorts of things always come with pressers. And today's zebra spokesmodel is.....

Well, Conte. Duh. Anyone else?

Chiello! Squee!

He's trying so hard to seem interested and engaged. I can't imagine what it must be like to have one full time job that involves a lot of sweating and sunburn and a second full time job that involves plastering a smile on my face and going out to talk about my first job and see, you know, people (ugh), half of whom want to tell me I suck or ask me questions about Gigi.

Or pose with someone else's jersey. Poor bastard. *pat pat pat*

I know the company owns him and he can't just bail and spend the weekend at his Mama's, but could they at least let him go back to the hotel so he can read Jane Austen on his Kindle?

And of course there were the photo ops with local bigwigs. Don't know who they are. Don't care either.

How can Ale write with a ring on his little finger?

I bet Milos' agent told him to be extra-nice so he could maybe get a contract. Why doesn't his agent educate him about the hair?

Gigi can sorta understand some of this, but he doesn't see much value in keeping women at home when they could all be walking around half-naked everywhere.

One of these people is much happier to be in the picture than the other. *coff coff*

One of the big events was a friendly against Al-Hilal that also happened to be a testimonial match for Mohamed Al-Deayea, legendary Saudi goalkeeper. He has 181 international caps.

There's that pesky number "29' again. And I see we're in love with the same guy. And someone misses Nedved! Clearly, he's actually been watching the matches over the lsat few years.

*bursts into tears* I love them so much!

AIEEEEE! My eyes! Banner!Ale has been eating some of that strange ice cream Cheryl keeps talking about. Also, he's either a Cardassian or he has some disgusting parasitic infection in his face. BTW, I hope you've all noticed that there are no women in the stands. *disapproves*

Gigi is shaking hands with a giant goofy smile and gloves off. He's in love.

And I think that brings us all up to date, zebra-wise, unless something happened in the last 2 hours. BRB Um, Nope!

Next match is Sunday at home to the mighty mighty Sardines.

Old Lady Post: Lecce

2012-01-25T15:21:00.004-05:00

Originally posted on January 12, 2012

So I'm sure you all know by now that the suits brought in another striker.

I wish I could get on board with this, but I keep circling back to the thought that it is well and truly over for Loooca and Vincenzo now. We all love football, but we come to this comm because we all have at least some non-football reasons for loving football. Urge to love Borriello at war with urge to keep Loooca and Vince. All this conflict is going to make my head explode.

WTF? Is it even possible that he didn't know there would be photographers? That can't be it. These are official photos, not paparazzi leaping out of the bushes. Maybe he just got a wee bit startled for no reason as we all do from time to time.

Yeah, that must be it. In this one, he's trying to smolder. I think. Maybe. Either way, ladies, do not get into a car with this man alone.

Sooooo close, but the hair ruins it. You fail.

Lecce 0:1 Juventus

Eww. That sucked. I don't think Juventus has played this poorly all season. Fortunately, Lecce was TERRIBLE, so Juve managed to win anyway, but yuck.

We'll start well before the first whistle because.....

...because sweet warm-ups dude.

Yes. He's more than pretty.

He's also a goal-scorer. He picked up the rebound after Lecce did not completely clear Mirko's shot.

Yay. And this is where my enthusiasm stops. It looks like an ordinary celebration so far....

....still OK....

oh no. Is he surfing? Do they have surfing in Europe? Americans think they own surfing, although they will acknowledge occasionally that Aussies are known to surf from time to time.

Surfing and...push-ups? I don't get it. Whatever this was supposed to be, I blame Pepe.

Once it started raining, Other!Ale tried to work his way back into Bunny's heart with some nice, wet whining. It only worked a little. BTW, Mr. Campagnaro, see how Matri's mouth guard is almost invisible?

Not quite so pretty now, is he?

Quags started, but he got an elbow in the face early on and had to come out. It looked nasty. You could see a little dent where there wasn't supposed to be one. Turns out Elbowman broke Quaggie's cheekbone. He's had surgery and will miss the next match at least. After that, he's expected to return, but he'll have to wear a Zorro mask. Which will be awesome.

Arturo was there, running around and getting fouled and so forth.

Mirko was back from his injury. He accidentally assisted Matri's goal when his shot got saved.

Shhhhhh. Gio's concentrating.

rrrrrrrrr

It's young Luca Marrone! He started on the bench.

However, he came on in the 88th for Pirlo. Way to give the superstar a rest. Way to give the kid a chance. Of course, if I made tactical decisions, they'd probably depend too much on things like offensiveness of facial hair, how they look without their jerseys on, and whether they can find the perfect balance of sweet and tart when they mix my margaritas.

Barza was there too, doing what he does, silently being about the best defender in Serie A week after week after week. He's started contract extension talks to which I say WOOT! Show him the money.

I love them.

Leo has it a little wrong. They should be apologizing for their crappiness and quietly counting themselves that Lecce is so bad, not celebrating the win with hoots and hollers.

OMG! LOOK! PDC got to play a teeny bit!

I'm with you, Mister. Nothing to be proud of.

Next match is Sunday at home to the mighty mighty Sardines.

Quick Beagle Update

2012-01-25T11:47:00.000-05:00

1. Lest anyone think Tiki has been forgotten, I'll have you know that I felt his beady eyes on the back of my neck a while ago. He was standing in a sunny spot on the floor, just north of a comfy dog bed that was NOT in the sun spot. He used his Beagle Mind Powers to get me to get up and check on him and then move the dog bed into the sun for him, where he is currently all hunkered down and napping happily.

2. Kirby started chemo on Monday. Once every two weeks for about 5 months. We expect he's got about 9-10 months. He's refusing to eat dog food, but he was quite pleased with the chicken and rice I cooked for him last night. No thanks on the sweet potatoes, which he's liked before. He hasn't lost his appetite, he's just being a pain in the ass. He probably overheard the oncologist telling us to feed him whatever he'll eat that won't blow out his gall bladder (that means an all ice-cream diet plan is out), and he's going to hold out for better fare. Willful creature. *sigh*

In Which Dirtbunny's Principles Turn Out to Be Fairly Bendy

2012-01-24T15:34:00.001-05:00

Originally posted on December 15, 2012

1. It's no secret: I have diabetes and I am on insulin. I have some that I carry back and forth to work, but I keep it in a mini-fridge under my desk and sometimes I forget to bring it home. Like yesterday.
2. Missing a shot or two is not always a big deal, but sometimes it can make me feel really sick.
3. When I realized I had forgotten to bring it home last night at about 8pm, Mr. D offered to drive me into the city to retrieve it. I wanted desperately to go to sleep, so I took a pass and decided to wait it out.
4. At midnight, I woke up burning up, agitated, twitchy, trembly, and freaked out by nightmares. I have miscalculated. The missed injections have made me sick. I have to go in to retrieve the insulin. No problem. I'll just do it.
5. Problem. Mr. D is still up and he offers to drive me in. I should turn him down, but I don't. He drives me in. He tells me gently that he's irked that we didn't take care of this 4 hours earlier when he offered before. He's right, of course.
6. The whole transaction takes about 45 minutes and all is well.
7. This morning, I'm feeling appreciative, so I offer to make Mr. D whatever he wants for dinner.
8. I should have seen this coming. He wants meatballs and rigatoni, his absolute favorite.
9. I've been experimenting with veganism this fall. I haven't cooked meat in months (except to make Kirby dinner, but that's another drama.) After beating myself up for a while, I decided to give up on being a vegan until after the holidays. I'm a pretty serious cook. I can adapt to no eggs and no meat, but dairy butter plays a big part in baking. Especially holiday baking, in which I might go through 7-8 pounds of butter making breads and sweets. I did not adjust to non-dairy butter in time to forgo dairy butter, but I can try again later when traditional butter/sugar bombs are less of an obsession.
10. Despite the vegan thing, and lately, the vegetarian thing, I turn out to have no misgivings at all about making meatballs. Ground mix with beef, pork, and veal? No problem.
11. However, while at the market, I read all the labels on the granola, and I buy the one that's vegan. The only thing that keeps granola from being vegan is honey and I'm not convinced so far that exploiting honeybees is the moral equivalent of exploiting cows.
12. I come home with about 4 pounds of fresh ricotta, because they haven't had any for a while and now I can make a cheesecake, lots of parmesan, butter, eggs, cream, Ghirardelli products that contain milk solids, gelatin (which I haven't bought in years because the thought of where it comes from disgusts me so much), a pound and a half of mascarpone, a mini-ham, ice cream, and a bunch of different holiday candy things that contain God-knows-what. And other stuff too. But, and this is important, I bought vegan granola.

Veal? Yes. Gelatin? Absolutely. Something like 8 pounds of cheese? You better believe it.

But vegan granola.

Old Lady Post: Not Losing in December

2012-01-23T15:15:00.000-05:00

Originally published on January 9, 2012

Il Mister is grateful that his hair plugs turned out well.

We're slowly getting caught up here. Here are the salient facts: The Zebes have yet to lose, they got an ugly win against Lecce yesterday, and they haven't offloaded Amauri yet. Before I get to any of that, though, I hope your enjoy another "best of"-style half-assed Tardy!spam recapping the last three matches of December.

Roma 1:1 Juventus

Poor Quags hasn't been getting enough playing time and he's gotten himself all confused about what he's supposed to be doing. Sorry, sweetie, but only Celts can pull off Lord of the Dance stuff and, even then, not really.

DDR scored a lovely goal that, on any other day, would have made me very happy.

Gigi saved a Totti penalty kick.

Andrea, among others, was stoked about Gigi's brilliance, but Gigi was having none of it. He knew perfectly well that Totti's PK was weak sauce and he couldn't accept full credit for keeping it out. Also? Juve hadn't yet pulled three points from the match, so what was there to celebrate? Plus, Gigi has chronic depression, and so do I, so that means I can read his mind from thousands of miles away even though I've never met him (how lucky you are for this inside scoop). He's thinking, "So what? Doesn't matter anyway. I'll never be good enough and everyone likes that asshole Iker Casillas better than me no matter what I do. What kind of name is "Iker" anyway? Why can't he have a normal name like "Juan" or "Diego" or "Carlos"? This world sucks."

*clears throat*

So the three points didn't happen. However, thanks to the stony noggin of Giorgio Chiellini, the Zebes took one point home at least.

Or, for those of you who are allergic to zebra stripes:

Juventus 2:0 Novara

Pepe was recognized as Man of the Month. Which he deserves, OK. And thanks for your excellent work. But that doesn't mean I have to like his new "I am the Shit" attitude.

Quaggie got the start. He brought his tongue and his steering finger with him. Rumor has it that, before the match, Marcostorari told him that this was the day he'd get his goal.

Marcostorari was right. I wish I had a photo of his reaction.

Good job, bb.

Even the BUM manage to rustle up a fond embrace. I kinda think they like the Quagmeister.

Pepe scored also. Yay. And did The Thing Dirtbunny Hates.

I'm not sure why, but this reminds me of Gale and Evelle Snoats after they busted out of the joint.

So, Pepe and Quags scored. Guess who did not?

In fact, he was pretty much made of fail.

want

WANT! ~~Hi Zorro~~.

BRB *fap fap fap fap fap*

Udinese 0:0 Juventus

Everybody loves mah baybeeee but he's mine all mine

Cool. An excuse to say "Antonio Floro Flores" over and over again in my head.

In fabulous form in his warmups.

Not so much on the pitch.

There. I've said all I really have to say. One was hoping for an exciting match between scudetto contenders. One received a null-null stalemate that just wasn't all that interesting. The only thing was, during the match, Toto Di Natale was ground zero for dramaz and zebra complaining.

But after the match, everyone wanted to have his baby. ~~Antonio Floro Flores~~

uhhhh.....Don't crush him, Gio.

Do you think Gio wants to see Toto back on the Azzurri?

And Mister had some opinions about the validity of that last foul call.

And then everyone went home for, like, two days, just long enough to peek in on their sleeping children, and then they were off the winter camp in Dubai. Except ADP, who went to Dubai early without having a Christmas vacation at all. If it turns out that he's been thinking about playing football there for the next few years, then I guess we'll all know for certain that he is a dirty dirty whore and I shall never stop weeping.

This post powered by snow. It's snowing, y'all!

A Day of Dirtbunny

2012-01-22T16:10:00.000-05:00

Originally posted on January 10, 2012

5:45 am: Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
5:52 am: Alarm goes off. Hit snooze
5:59 am: Alarm goes off. OK, OK, I'm up. Go get Mac to see if anyone commented on yesterday's post. No. Look for transfer news, read a little real world news, decide Newt Gingrich is still a dick. Mr. D comes in with my coffee, then he gets in bed and starts snoring. Drink coffee. Play one sudoku. Decide not to play another because I'm about five minutes behind and I don't want to aggravate the beast within Mr. D.

Get in shower. Contemplate speeding things up by not conditioning hair, but opt in favor of conditioner. This turns out to be a wise decision.

Brush teeth. Examine eyebrow. Where is are my tweezers? Mr. D has borrowed it to remove glass shards from the washing machine (don't ask) because he forgets we have needle-nose pliers for that. Summing up: he borrows it/them for an illicit purpose and then he doesn't return it/them. Wash it/them carefully with alcohol and tend to eyebrow.

Start getting dressed. What am I going to wear? Put yesterday's dirty stuff in hamper. What am I going to wear? Can't put on pants until I've put lotion on my legs, and shouldn't really do that without doing my feet as well, and if I'm going to do my feet, which I really must, I'll want to put socks on immediately, so need to choose some socks before I can start any of this. Before I can choose socks, I need to know what else I am going to wear so I can, you know, match, sort of.

Hey, wait a minute! It snowed last night. If there is snow, that tells me which shoes to wear....

Snow! A little anyway. Therefore, it might possibly be a little slippery. Therefore, I "must" wear these:

Size 11. That's right. ELEVEN! I am not ashamed.

....instead of work shoes. At least that's today's excuse for wearing those. If there were no snow, I'd probably wear clogs. Anyway, those are the shoes I'm wearing and that means real socks instead of crappy nylon trouser socks, so: which socks? Also, take note that windshield will have to be scraped, which will add several minutes to the morning routine.

Decide on a purple shirt. Purple shirt, purplish socks.

Yes, I made those myself.

Fold and put away a basket of clean laundry. Start piling up stuff I'll need to take to work.

Decide not to put on pants until after insulin. Here is my dresser:

That is not me. Those are my parents on my wedding day back in 1878.

This mug is the lie dog owners tell themselves in order to cope with the inevitable.

Measure BG, take two shots, drink one of many glasses of water sitting around, clip needles and put them in special receptacle, record BG in little book and pack it up in its little case and take it and some other stuff out to my desk. Oh shit. I have not packed my bag and we're running a little late. Here comes Mr. D, done shaving and getting ready to take the dogs outside. Tending the dogs is one of his vulnerable spots for temper eruptions. Decide to lay low to avoid provoking an outburst and sneak back to bedroom to hide out. This means leaving behind a pile of poop on the sunroom floor as if I hadn't seen it. I am wracked with remorse about the poop.

Not because it's mine. Because I didn't clean it up.

Back in the bedroom, it's cold. The dogs have decided not to get up:

Tiki

Kirby

Me too, buddy. Me too. Decide it is not going to be cold enough that Kirby will need to wear his sweater today.

Choose jewelry.

I only ever wear about four pieces but I was madly in love with every bit of it, once. Except the cameo. I wanted an ordinary coral-colored cameo of a woman in silhouette, and Mr. D got me a blue one (blue? really?) commemorating some anniversary at Mount Vernon. Also, it's heavy and horizontal and the pin does not distribute the weight of the piece well, so it's hard to wear. I dress so casually that I have to wear jewelry or I look like a slob. Choose necklace Mr. D got me for Valentine's Day last year. Choose bracelets and earrings. Decide to wear wedding rings.

OK, so here's the thing about the wedding rings. So when I'm peeved at Mr. D, one of my very mature pouting techniques is to not wear the rings. Then one of the prongs on the emerald snagged on something and broke so I couldn't wear it for a while, but then I got it fixed so now I can. Lately, I've been in favor of wearing them because I've got a nice manicure and my hands look relatively pretty, considering, plus no one ever notices my little "statements" so why bother with the petty protests?

Continue listening to Mr. D and the dogs in the other room to monitor the karma out there and decide when it's safe to come out and pack my bag. He's still mucking around, so put on makeup and dry hair. Sort of. Not really. I put a glob of product in my hair and I run a dryer through it and I give the bangs and face-framing bits a touch of the round brush, but what I'm going for is mitigating the mess a little and getting it dry enough so I won't die of frostbite before I get to work. If that counts, then I dry my hair.

After that, I don't hear anything, so I collect my junk and go out to pack. Mistake. Kirby is being finicky and won't eat out of his dog dish. Mr. D is on the floor feeding him dog food in chunks by hand. And blocking the passage. If my presence is noted, Kirby may decide to pay attention to me instead of food and that could lead to all sorts of drama, so I slink back to my room to wait.

[Footnote: If you didn't know, Kirby is ill and has lost weight. He used to be a 28 pound dog. Now he's a bony and frail 19 pounds. It's really important for household morale to make sure he's eating.]

Survey bedroom for potential problems. Spot one:

Tiki can reach that magazine. If he gets bored, he'll shred it and I'll have a mess to clean up. Move magazine and otherwise beagle-proof room.

It is now safe to pack bag. Decide to wear Bianconeri scarf because zebra stripes are always in fashion.

Decide not to wear Azzurri warm-up jacket and go for real coat instead. And mittens, because it's cold and the windshield will have to be scraped.

Trek down to car, going the front way, because the back way is slippery. Turn on car then get out to drop Netflix in the mailbox. I'd help scrape, OK, but the second scraper broke and Mr. D doesn't think we need a second scraper (or a second snow shovel, but that's another story) so getting a replacement one for me to use means planning and making a special trip when he's not around so there won't be pouting about unnecessary errand-running. One scraper? Fine. You do the scraping from now on.

Please note the cold hands. I've knitted him probably 10 pairs of mittens.

Cannot go anywhere. Windshield is totally fogged.

Mr. D usually just goes anyway, but I'm driving and I like to see where I'm going. Trip is going well. Usually fret about which lane to be in. The left lane poses a 50-50 chance of getting trapped behind a line of teachers turning left to take the back way into the high school parking lot. But if I chose the right lane, I could get stuck behind a bus, or I might not be able to switch back to left in time to make the exit. Choose the left lane and it turns out the way is clear. You have chosen wisely.

I decide it's too cold for the fuzz to be waiting at the bottom of the ramp to catch HOV violators, but I'm wrong. They are there, but they are in the car, not standing outside actually counting passengers.

The trip on the highway is smooth. The bridge crossing is uneventful. We come up from the tunnel into the city.

For about 15 years, this sign said "When children are present." And nothing else. This was always a source of amusement for me, but then they fixed it by adding the "SLOW." It's not the same now. *sigh* That'd the lovely Office of Personnel Management building there in the background. When I was a litigator and traveled a lot, I learned you could always find the local federal building by looking for the building with architecture like that. Or else like the Postal Service HQ building, known locally as "The Pink Palace." It never failed me.

I now have lane decisions to make. If I follow the lane markers precisely, I may end up stuck behind a double-parked delivery van, so I prefer to fudge the lanes, but I can't if there are other cars, so I look ahead to see if there is a truck.

Yes, there is. I change lanes so I can follow the stupid and inconvenient lane markings, then I have to change lanes back once I'm past the truck.

Drop off Mr. D at Metro.

Um, everyone knows that Metro is our subway system, right? I thought so. Anyway, I make my turn onto 16th Street. There's no protester at Planned Parenthood today. There's usually just one, and whoever it may be, it's always an old white guy. Only people with no jobs can spend all day picketing Planned Parenthood, and it always strikes me that the loudest and most determined protesters are the ones who have zero practical stake in the debate. Easy for you to say there should be no right to choose when you'll never be in a situation where you might have to choose. But perhaps I should move on.

When I get to the garage, some moron is confused by the ticket machine at the parking garage, so I get to wait in the street for Halfwit to figure out that he's supposed to hit the BIG GREEN BUTTON. While waiting, hey, here's my street!

I can't get my parking space. Bummer. I park in third-choice spot and then retrieve my crap from the back seat.

Total commute 24 minutes=pretty good. Now I must wait for elevator, a process fraught with drama. Because of my hearing impairment, I have no sense of directional hearing, so I can't tell which elevator dinged. Plus sometimes they don't ding at all. I end up wandering around, looking up furtively to see what's what. I probably look like I'm trying to smuggle nukes in or something.

I make it upstairs. Here is the long hallway.

My office is all the way at the end and around the corner to the right. You know, I've worked here for *coff coff* years and we've had the same "art" the whole time, even when we've moved from building to building and replaced every stick of furniture. Same old hunting prints, Hogarth reproductions, and framed copies of stuff from the National Gallery (ours, Cheryl, not yours). I once had a fantasy about taking it all down and replacing it with demotivational posters like this one:

But I never did because (1) expensive; (2) didn't have the guts; and (3) everyone who would have found it as funny as me is gone. BTW, the source for this and many others at despair.com, if you're interested.

And so we arrive at the holy shrine where it all happens.

We have new energy saving lights with motion detectors in them. This means that lights are by default in the off position and turn on automatically when you walk by. Since I always have my light off (unless it's night or something), this means the light I never use turns itself on and I have to take the affirmative step of turning it off. This happens repeatedly throughout the day as I come and go. It also means that the lights in empty offices turn on when you walk by in the hallway. I bet we're saving tons of energy with these awesome things. Much more than if we just got people to turn their lights off at the end of the day, duh!

Look at all that there stuff piled up! Yay! Having a ton or work to do and knowing that people are depending on me feeds my martyr complex.

Yay! There's more in the bookcase! I turn on the AC.

I plug my laptop into the dock and start the boot-up sequence. After 2 minutes, I'm allowed to enter my password. Go off to copy a knitting chart because it's too small to read and I can't do "enlarge" on the machine at home. After 3 more minutes, still not ready. Putter, putter. After 3 more minutes, the telephone software that I never use and have no need for starts doing its log-on sequence. After a minute, it is ostensibly "clear" but not really, cos nothing will work for at least one more minute. And finally after 10 solid minutes, I am able to open software.

I print tracking reports to see what today's workload looks like. Um, there's LOTS, and it's old, and a lot of it is mine. Yay!

Open email. Wait for email program to open.

While waiting, take photos of my wall

and my desktop

(no surprises there), then twiddle thumbs. It's hot. Turn on fan

After three minutes, I have email. Check to see if there's anything urgent. Not really. Out of curiosity, look at email from Chief of Staff explaining to the dissatisfied workforce how come we can't afford to hire anyone or pay performance bonuses or provide office supplies but we can afford to fly the entire agency in for a week-long conference that no one wants to go to except the senior executives (cos they skip all the sessions and go off to schmooze, sight see, and play golf. OK. Maybe not all of them). Explanation makes sense given the fucked-up compartmentalized way accounting is done here, and because the execs told Congress they were going to use the money for this purpose, they cannot use it for any other purpose, so fiscally legit. However, the symbolic value of having an expensive conference when people are providing their own pens and legal pads and not getting bonuses (again, except for the execs, who got their 5% as always) is completely lost on big cheese decisionmakers.

Wait. Um everyone understands here that Dirtbunny is an attorney employed in a Federal agency, right? I thought so.

Ahem. So nothing urgent. Go upstairs to look at what came in since the last time I was here.

More stuff! Yay! Load up cart and take most of it back down to my office.

When I walk the halls with a cart full of stuff, I always think of Monty Python in Holy Grail with the schmoes dragging around a cart to collect the bodies of plague victims: "Bring out your dead--CLANK *bangs once on a garbage can lid, or something*." The few times I've bothered to share this observation, no one else has understood it, so now I keep it myself, though sometimes I may chant it quietly to myself as I push the cart down the hall.

This is the stack of stuff I'm going to do first. Don't be too impressed by the height of that stack of paper. Any lawyer who has ever done any work as a neutral or an adjudicator know that the number of pages in a case file has nothing to do with the difficulty of the case or the complexity of the legal issues. The size of the file is entirely dependent on the relative craziness of the litigants.

Do some work. Stop and check lip gloss in the magnifying mirror. Examine pores. Ugh. I should never look at my pores at work.

Do some more work.

Examine manicure. It's lasted nicely but it's time for another one. I've recently been getting gels (I think that's what they are) that are indestructible and last a long time, which makes it worth getting a manicure because I'm not likely to wreck it on the first day just by going about my usual business. Or I could bail and go back to natural, but this stuff doesn't respond to regular nail polish remover, so I'll still have to go the toe store to have it taken off and then I would have to tell them not to put on another one and they'll be disappointed "Why you no like it?" and I'll feel bad.

Go back to work. Answer that email. Rewrite that thing I wrote on Friday. Read two easy things and decide they don't require anything from me. It's cold. Turn off fan.

Make pit stop. Pass Martin in the hallway. He's actually heard of football, so I chat him up about Newcastle beating Man U. He's worried that Toons management will sell Demba Ba. Hm. Am grateful that Juve is trying to win championships and therefore does not have a history of selling off its best players purely as a money-making exercise.

Return to desk. Re-read thing I did on Thursday to see if it's fair. I decide I'm right. This time.

Start plowing through stuff on desk. Ooh, that one's going to be hard. Save for later. This one is going to be easier than it looked. Do it now.

10:10 Lady Marmalade comes up on the iPod. Start jammin'

Gitchy Gitchy Yaya GaGa
Gitchy Gitchy Yaya Hee-yah

How many things are in the cart to take back upstairs? 5. Let's do one more. Back to work.

Thirsty. Go to water cooler and fill up my water glass. It's cold. Put on scarf. Sharpen pencil in stolen pencil sharpener. It used to be next to the printer right outside my office door, but I noticed that No One Ever EVER used it but me, so I took it and put it on my desk. I feel a smidge guilty about this, but no one else has even noticed.

Finish the 6th thing, put it in the cart ~~bring out your dead [clank],~~ and take stuff upstairs. But first, put on more lip gloss.

Upstairs, unpack cart and store it in the closet. Boss is not here today. She's a PAS and her term expires next month. Oh yeah. Acronyms. Presidentially appointed and Senate confirmed=PAS.

She's got a giant roll of bubble wrap and she's starting to pack up her things. Bunny iz sad. Ima have to go back to my real job and there have been a lot of changes and I'll have to do things differently from what I'm used to, etc.

The new guy has his Senate confirmation hearing in a couple weeks. Engage in hypothetical calculations with coworkers about what is likely to happen and when. Back downstairs.

Turn off energy-saving light.

I'm hungry! Measure blood sugar. It's low. Eat a banana. Yummy.

It's after 11:30, so the federal court we answer to has issued whatever its going to issue today. Go to court's website to see if there's anything new I need to know. Answer: No. Check to see if anyone has commented on my post yesterday. Answer: No.

Back to work. Attention span is short. Fiddle with hair. Finish reading memo. Piddle around with non-urgent emails.

Go back to work. Start reading monster memo, taking notes. One game of Spider Solitaire while digesting first section of memo. Resist urge to examine pores and police blackheads.

Back to the monster memo. Get to use the term "factual predicate" in notes and feel like a real lawyer for a while. Then get to the term "Executive Order" and eyes go all googly and lose focus. Consider skin again, and imagine I can actually feel oil oozing out of my pores. Again resist urge to check it out in the mag mirror. Go back to memo.

Hey! It's 12:40. I forgot to go to the knitting circle (which is a few of us who meet at noon on Tuesdays and knit). Oops. Oh, well. I don't think Mel is here this week anyway. Back to memo. I'm hungry, but I WILL finish reading this memo before lunch. Back to work. Read read read Note note note. Note to self: I need to get 2011 Turbo Tax. Read, note, read, note.

Done! Have Colleague backstop my judgment on an ethics question. Wait. This is really really tenuous. Do I even need to do this? If I ask him, he'll want to talk about the whole damn thing, which, if I'm wrong, would be exactly the ethics issue I want to avoid. Don't Fear the Reaper comes up in the shuffle, so plug headphones into iPod, crank volume up, and listen while playing Spider and contemplating options. Sing back-up parts quietly so no one can hear me (I hope). Groove on the cowbell and shriek (in my head) MORE COWBELL!) Play it again. Got engrossed in Spider so missed the part about 40,000 men and women every day so have to start over. And again. MORE COWBELL!

Spider is done. Shove iPod in bra and pick up watering can. Go down the hall to the kitchen to fill up. On the way back, pass coworker and notice she's got a bag of microwave popcorn that she's getting ready to zap. Realize office will soon smell like microwave popcorn and I am likely to contract a headache. Why is she doing this? Popcorn should be banned. Decide micropop bans are unreasonable. Water plants and go upstairs on that ethics thing.

Done. I'm right, as usual. Come back down, turn off energy-saving lights, and start logging in some cases. Having trouble typing. Heart feels fluttery. Blood sugar must be low. Take a measurement. It's low. Time to eat. It's 1:30; time to take Kirby outside to pee. I wonder if he's going in the house today or whether he'll hold it. What shall I have for lunch? Greasy turkey reuben that'll make my office smell like fried food for the rest of the day? Or......... OK then. Decision made. Do I need to wear my coat? 51 degrees. No. Can wear felt jacket and be fine. OK. Let's go acquire some food.

Sky is a nice bright blue today.

At the sandwich shop, they know what I want as soon as I come in, which is awesome and a bit disturbing. I reach for a Diet Coke, but then I remember that I read something recently about Coca-Cola doing some evil business in Africa that I can't remember, so I choose a Diet Pepsi instead. It occurs to me that PepsiCo is undoubtedly doing evil business somewhere in Africa as well and that making this choice inherently involves a lesser-evils situation. I stick with the Pepsi. While I wait for my sandwich, I knit a few rounds on a sock, then I remember that I did not bring a shopping bag with me. That means either no bag (and I really can't be trusted to carry things that don't have handles when I'm hypoglycemic) or pay the 5 cent bag tax. Not that I care much about the 5 cents or that I'm opposed in principle. Thing is, I have a drawer full of bags in the office but I never remember to take one with me so I end up coming back with yet another bag. Every Damn Time.

Oh dear. The cashier is trying to talk to me. What does she want? Does that total include my 5 cents or is the 5 cents on top of that? Not that I care but, you know, I need to know whether I have to fork over another nickel. This while thing gets me so ruffled that I start dropping bills on the floor. Eventually, however, I have paid the appropriate amount, received my change, retrieved what I dropped, glanced around furtively to see how many people are having to wait for me to corral my clutziness (zero, this time), fumbled enough with the bills to get them stuffed into my wallet at least well enough so I can close it (tho it will probably explode the next time I open it). On the way back, I again notice how blue the sky is.

Then I think I see Ryan Giggs in the elevator lobby. I decide that this is so improbable that I must be mistaken, but then I take another look to confirm. Nope. Not him.

It's hot. Turn off energy-saving lights. Take off scarf and turn on fan.

So I'm going to work on this post while I have lunch but then I decide I can't because of the grease and because I'm too hypoglycemic and need to get some carbs in before I fall down. So instead, I read an article about some voting rights cases being heard before the Supreme Court this week. I am mildly interested, because I used to know something about this 20 years ago in law school. The point of the Voting Rights Act is to prevent Republicans from gerrymandering voting districts to dilute the collective strength of minority votes, which it has been determined, violates notions of one-person/one-vote in contravention of the equal protection clause of the Constitution. During this go-round of redistricting, Texas reduced the number of majority-minority districts by 10% despite an increase in the proportion of minorities in the population. By spreading out the voting power of black people, you can greatly increase the impact of white votes well beyond their proportion of the population, which is why one reason why conservative voters are a distinct minority of the voting-age population, but tend to win elections anyway. That plus the electoral college. Oh, and plus their constant attacks on any effort to register more voters or get more people to vote. It's still legal to gerrymander on the basis of politics (which is why they've chopped up my blue county and spread the chunks out into three neighboring red districts), but not race. For now. Who know what this court will do? They are not to be trusted. OMG politics without a Voting Rights Act? I may have to make good on my threat to move to Canada. And none of this would be necessary if Republicans didn't control so many state legislatures, but changing that means having Democrats win state office, which they can't because of incumbency and because of their own idiocy and OMG

Yeah. This rant has got to stop. Time to check out the transfer news, so over to Football Italia. PDC wants to stay. Good. Amauri is considering offers. Oh please. His agent is trying to create a false sense of demand to drive up the price. Lots of blah blah blah but nothing has actually happened yet. Read short article on Borriello, who is going to sweat like a lion for Juve to which I say *blows raspberry*. The presence of Borriello only makes it more likely that Loooca and Vince will be sold and ADP will forever warm the bench, not to mention the increased risk of communicable diseases that Borriello brings to the dressing room. Then I follow a link and someone stupid is touting the Borriello loan as an excellent move to which I say 8 million euro purchase option? 8 million? Are you fucking kidding me? I might pay 2 million. But the point is still that Juve already has a surplus of strikers and I love each and everyone of them except non-person Amauri, and Borriello, whatever his merits (and I grant that he has some), is not needed generally and bad for ADP specifically.

Colleague interrupts internal Borriello monologue and asks me to read drafts of some of his stuff. Grump and go back to football.

Opps. Forgot to take insulin. Retrieve it from the fridge and give myself an injection. Um, this time it hurts. It usually doesn't but oh well. Clip the needle and put in special receptacle. Briefly wonder whether I'm sick enough to go on the dole.

It's cold. Turn off fan.

Back to work.

Do not want to look at Colleague's stuff, but start reading. While reading, find a hangnail. Fiddle with it for a while, then clip it off before I create a bigger problem. Back to work.

Ugh. It's read. So now what? That draft is wrong. This draft is better but that sentence is misleading and I hate it when he uses that particular construction although it isn't technically wrong, and there are a few things I could soften so it doesn't come off as though he's being overly condemnatory which means he'll be less likely to be heard cos everyone will focus instead on the tone. (Can you believe it? Me? Backstopping other people's tone? The irony. It burns.)

Wait. Condemnatory? Is that a word? Off to the big dictionary.

It's below waist level, so the only way I can read it without major back pain is to knee on the floor in front of it, take off my glasses, lean in, and squint. Or maybe I should aim for a back injury so I can go on the dole. Never mind. Back to work.

YES! It's a word. *fist pump of celebration* Oh, right. That doesn't actually solve my problem. Think for a while, decide what to do, answer a quick email, then head upstairs to implement decision.

Garsh, Bunny? Why don't you just move upstairs? Taking the stairs a half dozen times a day is good for me. If I were up there, I'd have greater probability of getting sucked into whatever crise du jour happened to be around which would surely render me crazy in about three days because I would be required, in the interests of friendly politics, to indulge the tangential whims of people who apparently don't have enough work to keep them busy. If the boss would let me say "Are you serious? Don't waste my time with bullshit, pal. I've got real work to do." then I'd seriously consider moving up there. Or if she asked me to move, I would. But down here, I'm around all my familiar stuff and I have enough physical distance to maintain a small degree of privacy that allows me to work largely undistracted. I go up there all the time, but people think twice before coming down here amongst the peons to see me. Which is totally fine with me. Oh, and the boss is a friendly extrovert with a lot of class and grace and zillions of amusing little stories and I'm an introverted grumpasaurus who has not been gifted with much patience and tolerance for social activity that doesn't include a lot of f-bombs and dick jokes. Oh, and I hate moving my office.

Hey I got past the popcorn thing and DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE!

So, I kiss Loooca

...grab a pencil and head upstairs. Colleague thinks my edits are an improvement on his writing. I puff up with pride (on the inside) and we develop a problem-solving plan and then he goes off to handle it, and I come back downstairs. Turn off energy-saving lights.

Next! My eyes are gunky. Can I trust myself to use the mirror to fix my eyes without getting distracted by the state of my pores? I decide that I can. Remove goop from eyes, briefly glance at pores on the tip of my nose, catch myself doing it, and immediately put the mirror down and move on. Attagirl.

Back to work.

There. Done with that. What next? Well, that one is a big ugly file and my desk will look better when it's gone, so I'll do that one next. Log it in. Fiddle with hair. Back to work. Have internal mini-rant about unnecessary footnote. Back to work. Start writing it up. Face feels oily. Thinking about pores again. Force self to go back to work.

OK. That was an easy one. Walk come completed work upstairs and turn it in.

On the way back, pass nemesis. She haaaaaates me. As soon as she sees me, she puts on the blankest of blank faces and walks past me like I don't exist. Oooh, "punishment." May I have some more please?

Get back to office. Turn off energy-saving lights. Let's see? What next? Choose an old one. Hey, this is a Z-type case. That means it goes in the pile with the other Z-type cases to be worked later when we figure out what to do with Z. Next!

Walk more stuff up the stairs. Oh wow. For a minute there, everything went all two-dimensional and I couldn't figure out where the next step was. I wonder if this is how things are with Kirby?

Um, everyone knows that one of Kirby's many issues is that he has a neurological deficit that results in him not having a good sense of where the ground is, which makes him walk funny and sometimes fall down, right? Good.

I could call it a day now, but let's see what this next one is, just for giggles. Oh dear. Next one is super old and involves a controversial issue. Mañana.

Next! Oh yeah. There was a procedural issue to deal with in this one and we needed to wait for Mel to come back before we could fix it and then everyone went home for Christmas and forgot about it. Need to see if Mel is in this week and if we can fix it or if it needs to go back on hold. Mel would have left by now so Mañana.

So that's it for the day. Pack up stuff and go. Make sure I put insulin in bag. In elevator, double check to see if I remembered insulin. Start the car, then reach into bag and feel around to make sure I remembered the insulin.

BTW, remember that telephone software I was griping about? Total incoming calls today: zero. Outgoing calls: zero. Your tax dollars at work.

And so I drive home and that goes quite smoothly. I notice that the sun is already going down and the sky is no longer blue. Am happy that I noticed it when it was blue. Hmm. Do I detect a hint of cramp? What time of the month is it? I dunno. This is the sort of thing I ought to be able to keep track of, but sometimes I just forget. While pondering this, the traffic light turns green. I get a little honk from the car behind me. Finally I arrive home, remove crap from car--HEY! we passed 100,000 miles on the Volvo today! and I head up the hill. No one is waiting for me when I get to the door, but by the time I get it unlocked, Kirby has appeared. He's very happy to see me, wagging his tail in an enthusiastic circle. Then Tiki appears, and then they start jostling and shoving each other to get the best spot for receiving my attention and I give them a few pats and then we all head outside for urgent dog business. Then inside for dog cookies (mental note: we are running low; refill jar before Robbie Dogwalker comes tomorrow), then read the Dogwalker report card. Incroyable! Robbie reports that Tiki made a legendary triple poop (only a fool walks Tiki with only one bag) and even Kirby did a poop. Has Kirby ever pooped for Robbie? I think this is the first time. That dog and his digestive issues..... Don't even ask.

Then I check the mail and pick out the new Netflix from the pile: new NCIS episodes! Yay! Something to do tonight! Then back to my room where I shed my jewelry, my shoes, and my pants and put my hair up and head off for private follow-up on the possible cramp. Yup. OK then, so I take care of that and then this raises two issues: One--Wastebasket becomes more attractive to Tiki during this time of the month so must put trash out of harm's way or face the disgusting consequences later; Two--if it's that time, then I will have an unholy craving for carbs until about...... midday tomorrow no matter what I do, so I can eat what I need to eat without guilt. Or at least that's my excuse. Just eat, sweetie, and adjust the insulin. Don't try to fight it or you'll end up hypoglycemic at 3 am and eating 120 grams of carbs in the form of cereal anyway. relaaaaaaaaaaaax Put on pajama pants. Try not to notice how scaggy my feet are. Resolve to go to the toe store soon.

Since I'm going to end up committing carbicide one way or another, go to freezer to check on chocolate chip cookies. Awww, there's one left. Mr. D never likes to take the last one, but you bet I will. Return to room. Turn on Mac and look for USB cord so I can upload photos. Check email. Still no comments. Also, Cheryl has posted a Napspam which YAY but also ONOZ because I haven't seen the match yet and can't read the spam if I want to be surprised at the result. But I won't be cos Napoli is going to crush the Pinks. I'm sure of it. Wait. What does this do to my NCIS plan? Decision is too hard. Defer.

Start importing photos. Turn on iTunes and call up Viva la Voce, a choral classical music online station.

Tiki jumps onto the ottoman to be closer to smells of chocolate chip cookie.

Then he tries using the Beagle Mind Trick on me.

You will feed the beagle a cookie. I'm a bit ashamed about this, because it says something about me that I can be manipulated by a creature with such a tiny brain, but I give him a crumb after making sure there's no chocolate in there. He gobbles it.

Start typing. Tiki is done obsessing about the chocolate chip cookie, but he can reach the table from his perch on the ottoman, and he uses his cold, wet nose to try to persuade my mouse hand to stop mousing and start scritching Tiki. The mouse hand obliges for a while, but Tiki's nose keeps coming back for more. He actually scoops his nose under my hand and and flips his nose up so my hand (in theory) flies up and lands on the back of his head where I am meant to commence scritches. It's adorable. Kirby, our resident slow learner, has picked up this behavior and tries it once or twice a month. Tiki works it a couple dozen times a day. Dogs are settled down nearby, so I commence to write.

Go on over to LJ and HEY! Cheryl has 9 comments already and I have......zero. No one likes me. Everyone hates Juve and my posts are boring and no one reads them except Cheryl and she's just trying to be nice. *sniffle* OK, the last one was boring, but jeez. It included a suck-up to Martha and I hoped..... Oh dear, let the insecurity thing go. Click on over, "restore draft" and edit.

Type type type. Tiki gets up and comes over for some attention. Oblige him for a while. He returns to his dog bed. His dinnertime tummy alarm clock is going off. He knows it's dark and he starts looking for Mr. D to come home, which will be in about........28 minutes, more or less.

Resume typing. Try to add an image, but have not put photos on photobucket yet. Start exporting. *sigh*

Resume typing. Why is export taking so long?

Resume typing. VLV sucks tonight. Turn it off and open up playlist. Bon Jovi! Yay! Pure cheese.

I seen a million faces and I rocked them all cos I'm a cowboyyyyy

Tiki comes over for some loving. He gets some. I tell him it's five more minutes to Mr. D gets home. He decides on a stare down, but I AM UNMOVED.

Kirby comes over to see why Tiki is getting attention. OMG Reaper is on again.

*Bunny rocks out with her white man's overbite*

*Bunny hits replay*

MORE COWBELL!, she shrieks, cos no one is here to mock her. Yet. 2 more minutes.

Typing typing, hit replay...

Tiki is sitting up pointed towards the door. Mr. D. is four minutes late. A dollar says there was a Metro Apocalypse on the way home. I reach over and scratch Tiki's butt. He wags.

Annnnd Mr. D is home. He greets the dogs.

Kirby is in ecstasy.

TANGENT: Let's not get all sad now, but we are awaiting the results of tests to confirm that Kirby has cancer again. We're pretty sure he does. I am really going to miss his little welcome home ceremony when he's gone.

And hello to Tiki.

Mr. D notices the music and says "Reaper." I say "More cowbell" and he chuckles.

He and the dogs go off to do whatever. I type. Typing, typing. My feet are cold. Get up and put on slippers. Resume typing. The dogs have returned after their supper and I reach for the camera and knock over a stack of stuff. Then I knock over more stuff in an effort to retrieve the stuff I knocked over.

This...

..is what I wanted to photograph: Tiki going at his favorite chew toy..

OK, so everyone knows that the favorite chew toy is discontinued or something and we can't find it any more so I went online and bought a case of them for Christmas, right?

OMG. It's almost nine. I have been parked in this chair for hours, oblivious. That's two days in a row where I was too busy writing to do any knitting.

Go over to check to see if I have any comments. No.

OK, here's what's going to happen for the rest of the night. I'll fiddle with formatting and get the post up. I'll take my injections and swallow my pills and maybe have some dessert if there's any left in the fridge and then I'm going to put on my jammies and get into bed with the Mac and watch NCIS on DVD until about 10 or so. Then I'll check to see if there are any comments. Then Ill check my email. Then the weather. Then I'll ask myself what for the love of Mike am I doing, and I will turn everything off and go to sleep.

And this was Tuesday, as lived by Dirtbunny.

Ciao.

What Dirtbunny has been obsessing about this week

2012-01-22T15:12:00.000-05:00

ISSUE NUMBER ONE: SPECIAL SWEETHEART

Hey! That's the same color nail polish that I have on now! OMG. I haven't gotten my nails done since before Christmas. *sends Mr. D out to clear an ice-free path to the car.*

Der Kirbenhund has been worrying us lately. His weight is down to 19 pounds from about 28 and he is bony and frail and all his test results keep coming back all weird. He has a heart murmur now, and fluid in his lungs, and that led to yet more tests and the results are back and.....well. Kirby has lymphoma. That's what it has been all along instead of the GME thing we've been treating him for. It is, FINALLY, the one condition that explains all of his symptoms. In a way, that's good news.

There's more good news. The treatment for lymphoma is the same as the treatment for GME. This means, in effect, that we've been giving him the treatment he would have gotten if he hadn't been misdiagnosed a year and a half ago.

How come the light reflects out of his right eye but not his left? Cataracts.

The bad news is that, with treatment, his life expectancy is 12-18 months, which has already passed. We're going to see the oncologist to get some questions answered and try to figure out whether there is any treatment left that isn't worse than the disease. In the meantime, aside from the weight loss, you wouldn't know that he's sick. He's a happy little guy having a nice dog life with doting humans who adore him, and a Tiki friend to be beta to his alpha and make him feel like a big man.

That's Mr. D back there, wearing this year's Christmas sweater.

I would have thought I'd be devastated about all this, but I seem to be surprisingly calm.

This is him today. Look at his bony knee, the ridges on his scull, his hair standing up on his spine. *sniffle*

I'll have a better sense of what to expect after we see the oncologist tomorrow, but right now, it's kind of like he's already passed his expiration date and every day is some sort of bonus life-extension, and that mindset turns out to be a pretty good way of remembering to appreciate what I have.

ISSUE NUMBER TWO: LUNCH

"beans n greens"

This is a recipe adapted from Jack Bishop's Italian Vegetarian Cookbook.

1. Slice one red onion and sauté in a few tablespoons of olive oil on low-ish heat until they start to caramelize.

2. Add a pinch of sugar and cook for a minute more. Add a handful of raisins and a bag (or a head) of chopped escarole. Stir.

3. When the greens start to wilt, add about a quarter cup of water. Turn the heat down to low, cover, and let it cook for 10 minutes or so until the escarole is cooked.

4. Stir in a can of drained chick peas. Replace the cover and cook for 5-10 minutes until the beans are heated through.

5. Season generously with salt and pepper and serve.

6. If you can be bothered, stir in a few tablespoons of toasted pine nuts. Or not.

Pros:

Vegan
FIBER!
It's healthy beans and healthy greens and you probably don't eat enough of either.
Amounts of everything = flexible.
I like escarole best, but any greens will do (chard, kale, spinach, etc.)
Once the greens go in, it cooks itself unattended, and an extra 15 or 20 minutes won't hurt it.

Cons:

The onions won't caramelize until they're damn good and ready, so you have to watch them to make sure they don't burn, and that might take 20-30 minutes.
Escarole is not easy to find, at least not around here.
If you have omnivorous beagles, they will pester you for some, but onions and raisins are bad for dogs.

ISSUE NUMBER THREE: DIRTBUNNY IS AWESOME

We lost a tree this summer, if you remember, which blew. However, it left us with a lot of firewood. Sadly, the logs were too big to burn, unless you have an enormous old-world style walk-in fireplace, which we don't, and which, if you did, you'd have servants so inconveniently-sized firewood wouldn't really be your problem, would it? I like a fire in the fireplace, so this is what I did on Wednesday:

Therefore, when we had a little snow and ice Friday night and I got the urge for a fire, there was burnable firewood, courtesy of moi.

ISSUE NUMBER FOUR: YARN

My birthday was this week and, yes, I went on my traditional yarn binge and, yes, I bought a buttload of stuff and spent a lot of money and there's nowhere to put it so it's all sitting around in bags on the floor in my room and I'm trying to make sure Tiki doesn't get bored enough to poke around in there. I also got more yarn from Mr. D for my present. I'm all excited about the projects in my head.

They are still in my head, however, so here is a photo dump of things I've finished relatively recently:

Both of these went to my mother. I knew she'd be tickled at the orange ones, and she was.

Mittens from left-over sock yarn.

Socks. I think I sent these to a friend of mine who's been sick, but that might have been a different pair.

A cardigan, from Ye Olde Yarne I bought at a Birthday Yarn Binge several years ago. I think this was the oldest yarn in my inventory, but that's hard to say. All that sock yarn tends to run together.

pilling so quickly.

The cardi left me with a lot of left-over yarn, so I started making hats. And I continued to empty out my vase of left-over sock yarn by making mittens.

No, this is a different bright blue hat and a different pair of mittens.

Another hat. 'S OK, but I won't bother with that pattern again.

There's that blue yarn again. The weird hat? Definitely not worth the hassle. As for the red yarn, I used it to make Mr. D some mittens last year, and there was enough left-over from one stinkin' skein to make another pair of adult-sized mittens...

...and two pairs of child-sized mittens.

I still have more of the blue yarn and tons of left-over sock yarn, but I feel like I spent all of November and December cranking out hats and mittens to give to the clothing drive and, well, I'm done with hats and mittens for now.

Maybe it was the boredom of all those hats and mittens for other people that drove me to the record-breaking yarn binge this year, but now I'm onto throws and shawls, which are nice things to have in your lap when there's ice trapping you in your house.

Old Lady Post: Seahorses and Napolitani

2012-01-13T14:42:00.002-05:00

Originally posted on December 31, 2011

To pick up where we left off, it was time finally to visit the San Paolo. Giornata 11 had been postponed because Tio Aurelio is soooooo afraid of the mighty mighty zebras that he conspired with God to make it rain so the match could not be played on November 6. Or something like that. I didn't pay much attention to the silly theories. I don't read the Napoli press, but I imagine they were saying similar things about Agnelli and his evil minions. Napoli is having an odd season. They're performing
wonderfully in Europe but underachieving in league play.

On the other hand, Juventus was unbeaten and that surely cannot last. They have to crash at some point and the San Paolo is kind of a scary place to play, so it seemed likely that this would be a nail-biter. And it was.

Napoli 3:3 Juventus

It started with frightening familiarity. Sleepy conceded a penalty in the 15th or 16th and Marek Hamsik sank the penalty kick quite nicely. Of course. Napoli scores first and Juve is stuck trying to make a comeback, the consistent failure to achieve such being a prominent feature of the last two seasons. However, Mr. Tagliavento ruled that the PK didn't count and then Marek fucked up the rekick and miracle of miracles, it was still all even, null-null.

That didn't last. Marek scored. Then, horror of horrors, Goran Pandev scored.

How embarrassing. I know he's a forward and he's supposed to score goals. It's not as embarrassing as having Taddei or Simone Loria score on you. But still, his last goal was in March for Pete's sake. Juve went into the dressing room at the half down two to nothing. *sigh* Dirtbunny began attempting to disengage emotionally.

The boys dug in and worked even harder, resulting in a Matri!gol in the 48th. 2-1. That's something at least.

You're welcome,

Then the unthinkable happened. Pandev scored again! How could this be. Jaysus. Twenty minutes left to go and down 3-1. The unbeaten streak was at an end.

Napoli was so confident that it subbed in Santana. It's over.

mmmmmm..... Aronnnnnnnnnnica

Santana comes on, Pandev comes off (thank God) and that's when Marcelo Estigarribia decided to break his duck.

TANGENT: Does anyone else find it odd that Italian teams have a really hard time putting young Italians on the Serie A pitch but no problem with all at putting young foreign players out there?

Not to take anything away from Esti. He's out there because he's good enough to be out there, and he scored a goal. Juve was still going to lose, mind you, but at least they got one back so hooray for Esti.

Oh good. Jesus has been feeling pretty lonely ever since Felipe Melo went to Galatasaray.

Then Pepe scored. I'm angry at him over the golf thing so I want everyone to know that the only reason this photo makes it into the spam is you can't really see him very well and Marcostorari's in there. &hearts

Well fuck me! Juventus pulled back from a 2-goal deficit TWICE to earn a point. Before they left the pitch, they put in ADP for about a minute.

Juventus 2:0 Cesena

This brings us to Giornata 14, a home match against Cesena. The seahorses are a team that Juve beats on paper every single time. However, Juventus is kicking off with a 12-game unbeaten streak that everyone knows cannot possibly last and it would be just the way if they managed to break the streak by losing to an inferior team at home.

Credit where credit is due: I don't know whether this sweet move accomplished anything football-wise, but it sure makes for a nice photo.

OK. He's suffering. This begins to make up for the whole golf thing.

Quags got a few minutes as a sub and put in his usual dramatic effort.

Hey there Mirko.

Big Ugly Monster is starting to show us a little more of the aggression.......

TANGENT: OMG! BLACKBURN ROVERS JUST BEAT MAN U IN MANCHESTER! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAFFIE! hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahha

BUM is starting to show us a little more of the aggression and whininess that he was known for at Lazio.

TANGENT: You know, I'm an educated person and I just realized something a stupid person would have noticed long ago. I'm still not much of a BUM fan, but I post a decent amount of him and without too many snarky remarks. Why? I think it's because every time I do, Cheryl praises me. So, like a beagle, eager for approval, I keep going back to the previously successful Lichtsteiner strategy so Cheryl will give me more warm fuzzies.

Anyway, ADP actually got a decent amount of playing time during the Cesena match. Or he would have, anyway.

Had he not been carried off the pitch after some oafish brute kicked him in the face.

Mutu offered up some pats. He's probably been kicked int he face before. Hell, he's probably kicked people in the face before.

Leo was the first zebra on the scene. Look at Gio's face. He seems genuinely worried. &hearts It's things like that get him invited to dinner parties at Dirtbunny's house.

Gigi and Claudio were also concerned. Claudio was downright upset. Either that or he was blowing his nose in his shirt.

Gigi: You take it easy, fella. I'll come check on your after the match.

BUM: If it dies, can I eat it?

Alessa got eight stitches, but he turned out to be otherwise OK.

So then. What about the actual match? Well, the Zebes did not choke. Claudio got another goal.

His career is just starting. Can you imagine him in 5 years?

Snuggling! Awww....

Claudio: *slurring* Sho I shez to him Nobody tellsh a Navy man when he'sh had too mush to drink cosh only a Navy man knowsh when he'sh had enough to drink.

Gio: *giggles uncomfortably*

Vidal converted a penalty late in the match and Juventus won 2 to nothing.

This is one of the few celebration photos in which he is not making that stupid finger heart. Ugh. I made an executive decision to spare you that image because you're going to need your resolve for this one:

.....aaaaaand Pepe undoes all the goodwill he earned this week and is back at Defcom Golf.

Quaggie!

And we finish with a big glomping.

I hope you've noticed how Leo is using Jackerini's head to boost himself to the top of the pile. Tall people don't have to worry about that sort of thing in the same way small people do.

The unbeaten streak continues. What will happen next????

Old Lady Post: Pinks and Laziale

2012-01-10T14:37:00.001-05:00

Originally posted on December 30, 2011

Gee. I wonder what the 29s are for? *smirk*

I have to wonder how many of you are still out there. Spams have been slow in coming, I know, but I thought maybe I'd finish the year with some make-up spams and see if I can bring everyone up to date before the winter mercato starts bringing us actual facts instead of crazy rumors.

First up, Palermo!

JUVENTUS 3:0 PALERMO

My historical perspective doesn't go back very far, but the pinks are a team I fear. It seems full of pissed-off ex-zebras who get off (and who wouldn't) on making the suits eat it by smacking Juve around on the pitch. The boyz had racked up 10 unbeaten matches, so surely this would be the one where they crash and burn.

Il Mister found some things to complain about, and so did I (more later), but the truth is I remember very little about this match. All I can do is share a handful of my favorite photos from the match.

Marchisio was Player of the Month for October.

As if that wasn't enough, he rewarded us all with a little tongue.

wake up, Sleepy

Oh. And he scored.

Geez. Whatta beauty.

I know exactly what to do with this.

Big Ugly Monster didn't score a goal, but he did give us some insight into the rarely-seen mating habits of monsters. Cheryl is right. It seems the wooing consists of grabbing the object of one's affection and dragging it off to the....what? Den? Lair? Cave? Hide-out? Where do monsters live anyway? Under the bed and in the closet of course, but I have to think if BUM were mating under my bed, all the noise and blood splatters would wake me up.

Yeah. Pepe scored too. His shin guards say "Simone Pepe." That's another one who makes it harder for me to make fun of Milos for his lack of imagination.

The Pepster has gotten comfortable with scoring goals. He no longer runs around all "Do you love me now? Do you? Please?" He has invented a goal celebration. Based on golf. He putts into the corner flag, see, and then he lifts the flag out of the hole to see if the "ball" to see if it went in. I hate golf with the burning fire of a thousand of Fabio Grosso's tanning lamps. Alessa did a golf swing as a celebration once, but I threatened to tie him down and pluck out his eyelashes one by one with a tweezer if he did it again, and he hasn't because he's a good boy.

Giorgio: OMG Dude. You're a bigger dork than I am! That's really sad!

Raise your hand if you want the humble, needy Pepe back.

Speaking of eyelashes...

Ale Matri got a goal as well. You know what that means.

Oh, brother.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt so badly if he changed the face that goes along with it.

Aside from the three goals, a recent trip to Photobucket revealed two more football glories.

That hair. My goodness.

And some man-love between fabulous brutish giants.

Lazio 0:1 Juventus

Next, a trip to the capitale for a match with Lazio, a team that scares the shit out of me. It's too bad, although maybe not a huge surprise, that Djibril Cisse has returned to Prima Donna douchebag status. On the other hand, I'm a bit surprised, but happy, that Miro Klose is experiencing a renaissance. Anything that makes Louis van Gaal look like a moron is fine with me.

If Miro can manage to have his renaissance without scoring against the Zebes, so much the better. Get 'im, Chiello!

Pepe scored again.

Oh dear.

This is getting a bit out of hand.

Mister agrees. He's demented, but classy.

Poor Rocchi. *pats him*

OK, now I know I'm on record as a Marchetti-ho, and that I even defended his hair.

I still love him, and I'm still his ho, but I'm not blind, and I can't defend the indefensible. His hair. Is bad.

Marchetti who? *purrs*

I can't remember what I was talking about. Oh yes. Lazio.

Claudio brought the tongue.

Andrea brought the rawr. I haven't seen much Pirlo-rawr since Gigi's save against Mutu's PK in the Euros, but check it. He rawrs.

He's rawring and working. I know I dwell on how alive he is this season, but I don't want to take it for granted.

His hair was MOTM. Obviously.

Big Ugly Monster was pumped.

Jackerini was exactly what you'd want in an Energizer Bunny. Um, energy, and a lot of zipping around.

The World's Greatest. le sigh

Man love. Yummy, yummy.

Are you with me? It's November 26 and Juventus is still unbeaten. Up next, however, is the San Paolo. It could be the scudetto showdown. What will happen? Stay tuned.

While you're waiting, you'lll be happy to know that there's something called "Area 21" at the new stadium. They try to make it sound really fancy and stuff and maybe it is. Fancy enough for Claudio to attend opening ceremonies.

I'd like to help him rip those jeans.

However, shopping and restaurants? That, my friends, is a mall. A mall at the stadium. Gee, they want you to spend money at the stadium. What a novel concept.

PR flunkie: Hey ragazzi! You know what would make an awesome photo op? He's a football player, right? Let's have him kick the ball? Won't it be great?!!

Because when you want to kick a football around a little, the mall is the place to go.

Buon Natale da Juve

2012-01-09T14:34:00.002-05:00

Originally posted on December 20, 2011

As Martha and Inter have so aptly demonstrated, football suits of all varieties, through their evil PR minions, will never tire of forcing their players to sacrifice whatever tiny amount of dignity they might have by doing stupid things that may or may not help sell more t-shirts. Juventus is no exception. Here is their Christmas message, in two parts.

Now before you click, think about what you are about to see. There will be some awkwardness, obviously. Some bad singing, natch. Some people who are just so damn happy to be allowed to represent for the zebes in public that they are about to burst. Some people who clearly have contracts exempting the from this sort of shit. Some language-impaired people. Some disturbingly enthusiastic people. Some grumpusses. And one super-classy guy who perfectly finds the sweet spot where he can be a good sport without being a tool.

I'm sure you won't be surprised by who turns out to be the biggest goober.

No! I WON'T do an lj-cut!

&hearts to one and all

P.S. There are renewed rumors about Martin Caceres coming back. It's probably bullshit, but maybe it could happen if we all ask Santa.

P.P.S. Every time I play the one with Mirko, my beagle Tiki growls.

Claudio Marchisio: Your Tuesday Afternoon Snack

2012-01-07T14:32:00.000-05:00

Originally posted on November 22, 2011

Pathetic, I know, but if I put the big photo above the cut, the mods will spank me for ruining the format or whatever.

You're welcome, my dears. Now no one tell me how Napoli did against City until 9pm EST.

Old Lady Post: Interspam--Still Gloating

2012-01-05T14:05:00.003-05:00

Originally posted on November 7, 2011

Inter 1:2 Juventus

You all know by now that Sunday's match against Napoli was rained out and has purportedly been rescheduled for December 14. Thus, no Napspam and also a de facto extension of time for Dirtbunny to post an Inter spam. Lucky lucky me!

WOOT! WE BEAT INTER!

Let's not even bother with the whole "Inter isn't really Inter right now bit." I'd rather beat Inter when Inter is at the top of their form, but matches happen when they happen and right now, Inter is what it is and Juventus beat them. At the San Siro. Maybe it can't last. Surely the other shoe will drop soon enough. For now, though, Juventus is still unbeaten in Serie A.

Holy crap. Even Milos looks half-decent in a suit, if you disregard the hair.

Where do I begin? Let's see. There will probably be no Interness spam, and Interistas are accustomed to beginning with Il Mister so I bring you Tinkerman:

He started out smiling.

But the smile dimmed.

And he had to start, um, motivating his squad.

He always looks to me like he's trying to give such precise instructions.

I think here he's asking Obi to stir a potion of some sort. I don't think Obi got it. Who would?

No hard feelings, Tink. Subsequent events have shown that Juventus' poor results in 2008-09 were not all down to you.

I'm glad you're working, but also glad you aren't working for the Zebes.

The Zebes finally have the coach they need--someone who understands how heavy the shirt is and who can make newbies want to play for the shirt.

Since this was a Derby D'Italia, you know who came to play.

Maicon came to play, in all his muppety glory.

Sure, he may go missing for large chunks of ~~decades~~ seasons, but whatever psychological crisis he may be suffering, he makes an effort to show up for Juventus. Bastard.

Look at the sad faces of those defenders. :(

Pazzo: YAYZ!
Gigi: You fuckers!
Gio: *sniffle*

Cuchu: It's really real!

So Maicon took off on a prance, accompanied by... can you guess?

Accompanied by Arms of Joy!

Maicon tolerated that well enough...

...but he had some honoring of the wife to do.

She must be the longest-suffering woman on the Italian peninsula.

Or possibly Mrs. Matrix.

No--it's Mrs. Maicon. Definitely.

Young Obi came over to say Good on You! but he was ignored.

Need not the adoration of bbz, the Great Maicon does.

Aside from the goal. Maicon brought his Oscar-caliber stuff. There were all sorts of protests and gestures and face-pulling.

The very best of them occurred when Rizzoli somehow managed not to call a vicious foul. Maicon was so flabbergasted by this unexplainable event that he dropped to his knees and slapped himself repeatedly--Curly-style--to see if he was dreaming. I kid you not.

BTW: Curly, for those among you fortunate enough not to know:

Gigi may have been full of RAWR, but I don't remember that he had a lot to do. He probably ought to sacrifice one of his children to the Gods of the Crossbar, but that's up to him.

He was on top of his defenders the whole match. He did not want to lose.

Hell, no. Not to Inter.

He had some barking to do, and not just at Pazzo.

You better not suck!

I can make a buttload of money pretty much anywhere, you know, and then you'lll be stuck with Marcostorari!

Gigi realized the flaw in his argument and backed away. Um, not that I would ever leave Juventus, my home and my love! heh heh.

Geez. Was Pazzo the only striker Rainieri put on the pitch? Why don't I have any photos of Zarate? BRB.

Zarate started. Interesting.

Give me a break, OK? I know that's the kind of thing I'm supposed to remember, but I ended up watching the match after midnight in the attic of my football-disdaining parents during a weekend in the boondocks of Central Virginia. When I said the next morning that my team had beaten the ultimate evil, my mother thought it had something to do with the Dallas Cowboys.

Gio continues to be Conte's go-to left back. I'm inclined to trust Conte on this. Plus, the end result is that Leo, Barza, and Gio all get to start every match, and that's good.

Hm. My memory fails me again. Oh well. I managed to watch the match in the middle of the night without waking anyone with my Juve-Joy. Think of everything I had to suppress to make that happen.

According to the photographic record, Cuchu seems to have given Gio a spontaneous audition for the Bald Revue. Cuchu showed him the steps, but Gio's furrowed brow tells me that he's not so much with the dance moves, which I'm sure comes as a huge surprise to everyone. It's just as well. With that schnozz of his, I don't think Gio can pull off drag.

Gio spooning with Maicon.

Sparring with Pupi, maybe for the last time evar!

No, I have nothing to support that. I'm just speculating that if Juventus can unceremoniously dump ADP, is it really beyond the realm of possibility that Moratti, that motherfucker, could do the same to Pupi?

Oops. Sorry about that, Interistas. I only meant to point out how unspeakably this whole ADP thing has come about. I didn't mean to freak you out about your icon. Bygones?

Pazzo had a rough fucking day.

Perhaps he was a teeny bit overdramatic in some of these photos, but the Zebes went all out to shut him down. They succeeded only because of the crossbar. (Thank you Jesus)

LOL. Pazzo struggling oh-so-mightily to get away from Gio, who is showing barely any effort at all. Maybe a little more time on the weight machines, Grumpus.

Never mind. Forget I said anything about being over-dramtic, and focus instead on Leo's belly.

Yeah, well you can't prove that this was a foul. *juts out chin defensively* Also: eyebrowzzzzzzzz yum

Yuto time.

Busy, busy, busy.

Yuto, the Photographer's Phriend.

Run, run, run.

Here.

There.

Everywhere.

Yuto n Vidal.

Vidal n Yuto.

Yuto n Pepe.

Pepe n Yuto.

Why doesn't he ever get tired? He must be a tiny striped robot.

Unfair! How come Juve can't have a tiny striped robot? I blame Moratti.

Barza! Mi Novio! Hey there Pouty. Y U No show up in more pictures?

TANGENT: I've got an old La Liga recording from Gol TV playing in the background as a I write this. It's amazing how much less annoying La Liga is when you don't have Ray Hudson shrieking about kaleidoscope eyes the whole match.

Oi! Dutchie! Hands off the junk!

I am so glad that my ugly mug isn't plastered all over the interwebs. Poor Barza.

Um, poor Pazzo, sorta.

In keeping with the pretense that the sequence of photos is not completely random, let's look at the rest of the Juventus defense.

Big Ugly Monster being a monster who is big and ugly.

Oh pleeze. That bb Dutchie isn't nearly good enough to plausibly cause dramaz this theatrical.

If it feels as though Obi wasn't really around much during the match, say "Thank you, BUM."

Nine matches in. One yellow card.

So far.

Um, Inter brought defenders too. Well, Lucio, anyway. Leo giving the eyebrow, Barza pretty far away but flinching anyway, and Gio--either brainless or extraordinarily brave--diving low to head the ball away from Lucio's mighty foot.

As has been his practice recently, Conte started what Juventiknows calls the MVP Midfield.

Claudio is the "M." More on him later. This was a match against, Inter, after all, so if you can't guess what he did, then you're probably new.

Vidal is the "V." Unlike Gio, he can do the steps and he's got the jazz hands down cold.

However, Arturo declines to remove the facial hair, so he won't be joining the revue.

Cuchu is disappointed. Not very many of his prospects can actually dance.

Rules is rules, however. No shave, no show.

OK, I've just spent the last eight minutes trying to figure out who that is in the sandwich with Pepe and Vidal. I don't know. I am not going to start comparing shoes. Good hops, mystery dude.

Vidal was one of the big meanies who victimized poor, poor Pazzo.

TANGENT: About that La Liga match I mentioned, Gol TV just gave me a juicy close-up of Tiago Mendes, which filled me with joy because 1: HE IS NOT WEARING A JUVE SHIRT and 2: HE WILL NEVER AGAIN WEAR A JUVE SHIRT. Even if the rest of the season goes all to shit, Juventini will always have that.

Andrea is the "P."

OK. So you may be realizing that there is no Milos. He's been benched for the last few matches because of a combination of poor form and because of a traffic accident that killed his uncle and injured his father. I mock him, but I wish him well. The reason I bring this up now is Andrea's shin guards. Look closely. It's not like I expected them to say "Sleepy" or anything. But. They say "Andrea Pirlo." *sigh* Mr. D pointed this out to me because we've been together for a zillion years and therefore, his mission in life is to crush any tiny gleam of whimsy that may come into my life. Fair is fair. I cannot make fun of Milos' shin guards any more. Sorry, Serbo.

Hey there, Sleepy.

No, it just looks like he's throwing an elbow because of the lack of depth perception.

You can actually see air under Pirlo's feet. He is jumping. Jumping. He's a new man. &hearts

What is it they say? Legends all over the damn place. Yeah. That's it.

Time for Wesley. He seems to be coming back, finally, which is good. It's fine for Inter to lose to Juve, but Serie A needs Inter to do well in Champions League and Wes is a special player and it's not nearly time for him to be finished. Jeez.

Well, this doesn't look so good.

This doesn't either.

All in all, it wasn't Wesley's best day. Towards the end, he was bitching at Rizzoli badly enough to get carded.

Not much longer after that, Pirlo decided to use physical encouragement to convince Wes to cut it with the whining, for which he was carded too.

Shall we enter the debate about Conte's formation? Is it a 4-2-4? A 4-3-3? A 4-4-2? 8-6-7-5-3-0-9? Who gives a shit? There's guys in back, guys in the middle, guys on the sides, and guys up front.

Guys on the sides:

Peppity Pep Pepe.

Keeping Wesley down.

Every bit as busy as Yuto, but taller and with more convincing facial hair.

Poor Pepe. He is boring me. I am bored.

He puts in so much effort game after game and in the end, all Dirtbunny can say is, "Pepe. Hm. Well."

Nothing written on the shin guards. No visible pants problems.

zzzzzzz

Mirko! Yay! ~~And Chivu.~~

Mirko was very active, much less lazy than in recent matches.

BTW, you know I love me some Chivu but maybe he should stop fussing about how he's really a center back. It invites comparison to Inter's other CBs, which maybe doesn't flatter him too much.

Does not look like he's spent the morning eating pot-laced brownies.

Cuchu!

You always need to be looking for little chances to practice. That's why high school drum players never fucking stop drumming with pencils, hands, forks, or whatever else they can get their hands on. And that's why Cuchu works hard to look graceful whenever he can.

So much drama.

Esti came on as a sub in the 70th.

He's not a star, but he does his job competently enough, so yay.

Plus, he's not particularly impressed with Lucio. I don't know whether that's wise, but it's nice that he can keep going about his business without being crippled by terror.

Quit fucking around!

Run around, work, whatever. To be Juventino means you must win!

So get your striped asses out there and score some goals!

Do it!

OK, then. Goal scorers.

Well, strikers anyway.

I was reading some stuff on Matri and the consensus seems to be that he is

EMERGENCY TANGENT: ONOZ! When in the name of all that is holy did Ceskipoo start wearing a headband? AAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Um, so Matri is the center striker. He's better than the others in the middle and he's really the only one who is strong enough to body against defenders and hold up play. Except Looooca, of course, but Loooca is looking to ~~draw the foul~~ fall down. Matri wants to stay on his feet and maybe score or something.

Behold his bird. Because she is not me and I am jealous, it's time to get judgy: too much eyeliner, unflattering shade of lipstick, and can't decide if she wants the hairz tucked in or let out. Humph.

He's been a Zebe for 10 months now and has yet to take his shirt off.

I am displeased.

Sort of. But then I can always go here here if I want to see his chesticles and what I really need from him, since I have so many hot boyfriends out back in the barracks, is awesome goal-scoring.

I'm tired, Lord. Can you get this Lucio fellow offa me?

He had a brilliant chance, which the Lizard saved....

but then....

Holy crap! Did Mirketto just turn my miss into a goal?

He sure did, bb.

A lovely poach worthy perhaps of Pippo.

Lizard couldn't get there cos he was all turned around after saving Matri's shot.

A goal against Inter at the San Siro! What joy!

There were a few half-hearted calls for offside, but it was clean and it counted.

My my, Andrea. That's some wicked wedgie. Wait for the cameras to follow Mirko away, then pick your underpants out of there, mkay?

Andrea: I am so uncomfortable right now!

Also: what the fuck is Simone doing back there?

I mean it. What is he doing? Anyone?

So happy Mirko pranced around for a while.

OK. Now he looks like he spent the morning eating pot-laced brownies.

Oh shit. I'm completely lost. There's no way I can put these in order.

Yeah. So here's some of Mirko running around more or less by himself.

Obi: *farmer blow of disdain*

And here's some happy sideline glomping.

Ohai Quaggie!

Paolino! Sweetie!

No, ADP is not in that scrum. No really. I checked and double-checked. I even looked at the shoes.

Oh, frak. I was going to get to that later, but we might as well do it now.

So Alessa came on as a late sub. See how he twitches. with. enthusiasm.

That, ny dears, is a man who wants to captain his squadra to a victory over Inter but who instead gets to come on as a sub as some sort of consolation prize.

He wanted it. Bad.

BAD.

He tried the usual drawing-a-foul-and-hoping-for-a-free-lick-in-an-excellent-position strategy. Oops. I meant "free kick."

He also tried staying on his feet and going for it.

But you can't always get what you want by determination alone.....

......and he missed a fucking sitter.

It was not to be. I think he's still pouting. Let me check.

BRB

Yeah, he's still pretty upset. Let's give it a little time.

And then effing Maicon showed up of course because that's the way he roll, and the score was ~~tired~~ tied.

But you know what? Effing Claudio showed up too of course because when Juve plays Inter, that's the way he roll. Darn tootin'!

He's been Juventino all his life and there's nothing better than getting the go-ahead goal against Inter at the San Siro.

That doesn't seem physiologically efficient to me, but I'm certainly no expert.

Plus, who cares?

It went in.

Lucio: God damn. Not again!

And lo there was much rejoicing (except for the racial slurs and Heysel cracks, for which both teams were severely punished by paltry fines that show the world that the FIGC means business).

That face! &hearts

Claudio running alone.

Claudio running with the BUM!

I love how the photos make it look like he ran this way and that.

This way. And that way.

Claudio enjoying the admiration of his peers.

And also the admiration of Il Mister.

Captain Futuro:

It all finished with Claudio ostentatiously kissing the badge.

I'm not complaining. In fact, I appreciate the gesture. Generally, when a player starts kissing the shirt, it's because he's on the outs with the club and is trying to suck up to the tifosi ~~Amauri~~, but I believe he meant it.

&hearts

Then there was a miserable second half that had Juventini biting their nails and wondering how the boyz were going to manage to choke, but it all worked out in the end.

The defenders released years of pent-up sexual frustration and set about shagging each other savagely.

nngh

When they were finished with each other, they went off to shag everybody else

No need to notice Mr. Underlayers and his Grim Face of Elation.

Um, getting lost again.

I would apologize if any of these are duplicates, except that they're wonderful duplicates.

Linesman Eyebags is over this. He just wants to get back to the dressing room so the bag man can give him his pay-off. Just kidding, of course. As far as you know.

One unhappy second striker gave his jersey to a lucky Inter player and tried to skulk off into the dressing room. He didn't make it very far before Il Mister insisted on congratulating Our Lugubrious Hero, that bastard.

Gigi tried to cheer him up too, but Alessa was resolved not to let his personal bummitude put a damper on the well-deserved jubilation of the group, and he eventually slipped quietly away. *sniffle*

Everyone else, on the other hand, was quite happy.

I really have no idea where in the sequence these go, so BLEAAAAGGH! I spew them out wherever.

Oh come on. Have you never heard of puke and rally? This is a good thing. Where on earth did you go to university anyway?

Finally, the boyz saluted the tifosi with the customary Big Jump.

LOL Andrea!

LOLOLOLOL Leo!

You know what's weird? A coach ought to look really out of place in the middle of this kind of thing.

Conte looks like he's exactly where he belongs.

Next match is November 20, home, to the Pinks, after the International break, from which no one will return with grievous injuries. ~~Hey Cesare? It's only a friendly. Why not give Amauri another shot?~~

This post powered by canine excretions, which I now must go clean up.

Also? I'm pretty sure this will crash if I try to spellcheck, so sorry about the illiteracy.

Old Lady Post: Alespam

2012-01-04T13:53:00.001-05:00

Originally published on October 28, 2011

Juventus 2 : 2 Genoa
Juventus 2 : 1 Fiorentina

Four days, two matches, four points. Not so bad, and it gives the worldwide Juventini contingent something else to think about. It's still not OK, OK? Life, however, goes on. So:

Welcome back, bb, and thanks for bringing those eyelashes with you.

Before the jump, I have something I want to say. I'm Juventina. I didn't come about it by rational decision-making. It just happened. Also, I'm a known Inter-hater, tho I hope a fairly kindly and gentle one. I didn't know I was supposed to hate Inter. I came about it naturally and honestly. Now: The Big Match is tomorrow, and the Juve fansites, all full of the Viola win and Matri magic, are talking smack. I imagine the Inter ones are too, but whyever would I go there to find out? OK, rivalries are fun and all that. However, I am not down with calling Inter "Merda." That, for me, is too much. Just please don't ask me about Chelsea, OK? /lecture

In the first match, The Griffins came to Turin and managed to squeak out a draw. After Genoa got its first goal to tie the score, I had to sulk and moan for two days before I could go back and finish the match, and I spent those two days in ADP!despair, so I don't remember much except the end result. here's what I do remember:

One: Seb Frey seemed fatter than last year.

Two: Mister brought the dramaz like he do.

Shouldn't there be some hint of junk when he poses this way?

Sweet footwear.

His bracelets! Ha! I don't think I've ever seen anyone wear those with a suit before.

The close-up is so extreme that the nose has to be out of focus for it to work.

Conte and I (and Mr. D) are pretty much contemporaries. I don't see this kind of wrinkly sun damage when I look in the mirror. I wonder if I'm kidding myself.

Three: ADP started on the bench....

DB: *whimpers*

....then spent 40 minutes warming up in the second half.....

......and finally got on the pitch almost at the last moment, where he had no time to do anything except remind us all how depressing It all is.

That's a lot of strong, muscular booty.

What utter bullshit. Sure, his aura remains even when he's not there, but it's waaaaaaaaaay better for him to actually be there.

Four: I hate Caracciolo.
Four prime: Who is that? Oh. Pazienza. Pazienza finally got some minutes.

Five: I still love Marcostorari, even if the photogs don't.

Query: What if Gigi weren't really hurt? What if Gigi's less-then-wonderful form means Marcostorari deserves some playing time and "Gigi is hurt" is the cover story they're telling?

Six: Gio, who is not a world class left back, is still a bad-ass motherfucker.

Dario Dainelli has got to be one of the dimmest-looking players in Italy. Also: Ale!Rawr! Yummy.

Oh sweet Jesus. If he starts to be one those ones with saggy socks, whatever is going to become of me?

~~Hint: Naked Gio spam is good, especially if it doesn't have any disturbing intrusions from real life, such as his girlfriend.~~

Seven: Marcelo Estagarriba is the new Momo.

I don't mean in terms of the dirty-tackling, krap passing, or idiot fouling that none of us miss. PSG is welcome to all that.

Tangent: Regardless of what you may think of the man, I think you'd have to say that it's a lot of fun saying "Giandomenico Mesto."

Back to Esta: He's the new Momo in terms of disproportionate attention from the photogs.

Did he play well? I dunno.

Eight: Despite what you may think from looking at Daylife, the Zebes fielded a full squad that included a number of players who were not Ale Matri. Witness:

Leonardo Bonucci's eyebrows.

Oh, and the man Leonardo Bonucci himself.

Giandomenico Mesto. Oops. I mean Palacio. Whatevs. Giandomenico Mesto Giandomenico Mesto.

No, not exactly the same photo twice. Cut me some slack. You know how I feel about Leo.

The Pepster.

Andrea Pirlo.

When's the last time you saw him even bother to try for a header? I'm telling you, this is an Andrea Renaissance.

Amirite?

Like a boss.

Bring it, bb.

Poor Alexander Merkel. He looks like a cross between Hitlerjugend and Vanilla Ice.

His hair is just too blond and too perfect, isn't it. Ohai Barza!

The BUM.

Mirketto was pretty quiet, I think.

Nine: There was all sorts of Ale Matri up in here.

Ale having a sad.

Ale taking a breather. (Check out them purple laces!)

Ale getting past Dainelli. As if that's hard.

Ale getting past Marco Rossi without being grievously fouled.

Ale wearing almost the same bracelets as Conte.

Ale scoring goals and prancing away while looking as fierce as possible.

Ale prancing in front of the delirious tifosi.

Ale getting chased by Leo.

Ale showing us all that mouthguards don't have to be blue or other non-mouth-ish colors that freak people out. Leo.

Ale being smug and showing his tongue.

Smug Ale deigning to allow that peon Mirko to offer congratulations.

Ale doing his Insufferable Secret Selebration Gesture, but getting interrupted by someone who doesn't know this is a Do Not Touch moment.

Ale getting his first taste of Paraguayan amor.

Ale enjoying the admiration of his peers. BTW: That tiny man in front? Not Vidal.

um, where's Gio? and, um, where's Team Ho?

Almost as good as a manpile.

Ick. Sticky saliva strings. Maybe we don't need close-ups to be this close up.

Yeah. So I've still got about 20 Matri celebration photos with various prances, fist-pumps, rawrs, and the like, but I'm going to choose the five best ones.

Feel mah powerslide, bitchez.

Take your shirt off, dummy! ~~We need you to get suspended or there will never be space for Quags.~~

Pirlo ain't the only one with hair that's.....special.

So that's Genoa. On to Viola. For this one, I guess you'd have to say that, technically, it was on and I was in the room while it was on, but really, I got nuthin,.

This could have happened at any match all season.

Yay! It's Marcostorari!

Geez Claudio. Yikes. And Wow!

Hey. Didn't Gambit used to wear his socks above the knee? What happened?

Um, no, sorry. Not a goal. Mirko couldn't finish for shit. Or so I've been told.

Yeah. So short-sleeved hot pink jerseys in warm weather when everyone is still pleasantly tanned? That's one thing. Long-sleeved hot pink shirts, worn with hot pink turtlenecks, against pale and pasty winter skin? That's something else. *vows to look hard at self in mirror next time she wears that color*

Vidal, right? Yeah. Vidal.

Barza and Jojo, who has been magnificent, which I'm happy to say, but which is also easy to say since Viola didn't win. Just bein' honest.

Barza and JMV.

Our BUM

Pasqual. *snort*

Pirlo, being cruelly abused by Frosty.

werk it Drea.

Hey, Pep. Wait. Woah--check out Drea's hairz. His stylist had mad cutting skillz.

Um, FOUL Gambit. Watch yourself, hear?

That's better. Where the fuck is Krol, anyway?

Ale scores goals, but he's more than goals and eyelashes and hair and Insufferable Secret Selabrations and standing around looking pretty.

He's starting to get pretty good at teh dramaz.

He won't take his shirt off....

...but he will help the fangirlz get a good look at Natali's furry belly. Or, as I just mistakenly typed, Natalio's belly.

Oh, he got a goal. Again. *sigh*

Prance, prance, prance.

I'm running out of time here. Do I bother to try to put these in order?

I, uh, have some ideas for that tongue, if you get bored with it.

Yeah. Ale got the second goal, but the first goal brings with it what I've been waiting for for at least a year, so it gets the privilege of last.

Behold: Leonardo Bonucci.

Our boy managed to be perfectly positioned to tap in a rebound.

Is this the goal too? Was Natalio there? Let's pretend it is.

It's been a while, so Leo was extra stoked.

Who am I kidding? When is he ever not stoked?

Feel mah power!

Bench me again! Go on! I dare ya!

I'm the one you want, bitchez! ~~Whatever happened to mouthful o' spooge?~~

Running, running. Oh, wait. Look behind Artur. Is that.....? OMG YES!

YES YES YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!

Somewhere up in the stands near Lapo, Andrea Agnelli is thinking about all of the money he spent on the new facilities, and calling his assistant to see to it that someone hammers the dents out of the locker doors when they are finished sexxing.

LB: Not yet, dude. We can have a quick one at the half.
CM: In the tunnel. I'm not waiting to get to the dressing room.

I've got nothing on Gila, who made it on for the second half, but I do have this from last month at Coverciano:

That is not an optical illusion, my friends.

Compare that to this scowly amphibian:

It was not a one-time deal, either:

If your mind isn't blown yet, I give you this:

Huh. Relaxed and kinda happy. Freaky.

And we close with The Big Jump:

..Aaaaaaand the big jump, with proof of Gio, and a teeny glimpse of PDC, if you squint.

Next match Saturday--TOMORROW--against Inter at the San Siro. Inter may be wounded, but I'm guessing they'll bring it. *fret fret fret*

Old Lady Post: Lost Boys of Juventus

2012-01-03T13:49:00.000-05:00

In which Simone Loria graduates from pathetic joke to Dirtbunny's Enemies List.

It has become dead obvious that Conte cares much more about ~~winning~~ not losing than he does about squad rotation. While this approach has worked wonders for the Zebes' position in the table, it also means that we rarely get a glimpse of anyone on the B team. I don't know about you, but I've been missing certain senior citizens, babies, invalids, and outcasts. Let's take a peek at what they've been doing,

Let's get one thing straight right from the beginning. Amauri no longer qualifies as a mere "outcast." As the squad photo confirms, #38 does not exist. This means Amauri is demoted to "non-person." #2, #6, #20, and #9 are there, so how much out of favor do you have to be to not be allowed in the squad photo?

Lost Boy # 10:

Alessandro Del Piero: captain, World Champion, Legend, Dirtbunny's Boyfriend

In this his last year in stripes, one might hope to see him more than as a sub in the last few minutes of garbage time. Every time he starts to warm up, the stadium goes crazy, and when he's on the pitch, he makes an instant difference. Unfortunately, he is not scoring goals and the other strikers on the squad are. Bummer.

Lost Boy # 33

Frederick Sorensen, code name Iceman: Blond, Giant, Dane, Teenage Menace to Strikers who like to come in from the wings.

Also, hello Bobo.

How I miss him. However, there are two very good reasons why he is not playing this year. One: We have a right back this year. Two: We have Barzagli, Bonucci, and Chiellini ahead of him in the pecking order.

He's a defender for the future. He's even getting experience with the Zorro mask, which tells me he's too brave to duck. All I have to say to the suits is DON'T YOU FUCKING SELL HIM!!

Lost Boy # 30

Marco Storari, World's Best #2 Keeper: Monster, Nice Guy, Squad Favorite, Team Barber, and World Champion Grower of Hair

Juve is lucky to have him. He really should be starting, at least if not for Gigi. After Gigi, he's as good as any starting keeper in Serie A. Why he's decided to stay and ride the bench is beyond me, but I'll take it. Suits: Pay him well so he stays.

Lost Boy #18

Fabio Quagliarella: Recovering Invalid, Forgiven Skeeve, Master of Goals that Shouldn't Go In

Luckily for Quags, Mirko has been injured and Conte has been practically forced to give him substantial minutes to fill in. Quags has risen to the occasion and actually produced a goal recently. I expect him to feature more prominently in the ritorno and if he does, he'll lose his Lost Boy status.

Lost Boy # 34

Luca Marrone: Promising Youngster, Azzurrini, Victim of Italian Anti-Baby Policy

Also: Diego Perez, you're on probation. I've got my eye on you, pal, and not for the usual reasons.

Yeah, now I wouldn't play him much either, but that because Juve has too many good strikers and plenty of serviceable ones as well, not because of any shortcoming on his part. On loan to Siena last year and possibly should go on loan again if he ever wants to play. Except in the Coppa, of course.

Lost Boy # 11

Paolo De Ceglie: Cutie, Terrible Actor, Underperforming Left Back

He was looking sooooooo good last season before he broke his kneecap on Daniele Bonera. I don't think he's lost it, exactly, especially going forward, but he needs playing time to build his confidence and work on his timing. As long as Conte puts ~~winning~~ not losing first, he's not getting the time.

Can't we get him a mentor or something?

At least his hair is in top form.

Lost Boy # 27

Milos Krasic: Slow Learner, Thumbsucker, Disappointment

This one arrived in 2009 with much fanfare and it all started out fairly promisingly. He even got a hat trick, once. However, he's a one-trick pony. It took about five minutes for the skilled defenders (and the unskilled but brutish defenders) to figure out his one move (run hard and fast up the right flank and cross the ball in) and develop a strategy for containing it (put two guys on him and herd him up to the goal line so he can't make his cross).

Milos has trouble adapting. It's obvious on the pitch, and it was obvious during the Juve Christmas video when he had trouble saying "buon Natale," which shows how little Italian he has learned since August 2009. It's time for Milos to go. May he have good luck elsewhere.

Lost Boy # 17

Elerjo Elia: Mouthy, Arrogant, Dutch, Alleged Phenom

Hmph. He turned me off during the summer mercato when he said that Juventus wasn't big enough for him. He can win me over on the pitch, but the fact that Conte hasn't much put him on the pitch, well, that tells me he doesn't belong on the pitch. I've got a bad impression of him, but am reserving judgment. For now.

Some Lost Boys get an occasional taste of the pitch, but are so unloved that they only appear in match photos of someone else.

Lost Boy # 5

Michele Pazienza: Forgotten Midfielder, Not as Tiny as He Looks

He's a passionate man. Jackerini looks like he can feel Pazienza's boner through Claudio. Hey, it's plausible! Claudio is terribly thin, you know.

He trains, so there are training photos.

This one's a two-fer. You get Michele in full-on bitchy mode, and you get Pirlo laughing at the drama.

Lost Boy # 20

Luca Toni: World Champion, Lummox, Green-Eyed Gorilla of Love

He did a respectable job shoring up the front during last winter's injury crisis, but I don't think Loooca has even made the bench this season. I love him, and I hope he stays.

Loooca fall down go boom. &hearts

Lost Boy # 2

Marco Motta: Official Hairdo Beta Tester, Such a Crappy Right Back that Even Of Blacks Played an 18-year old Center Back in His Place.

Oh Marcolino. It was so much fun in the beginning, but in the end, we just aren't right for each other. I'll always love you, but I want to pack up your stuff and move out.

Lost Boy # 6

Fabio Grosso: Tanmeister, World Champion (really!), Vampire.

When you were on the World Cup 2006 squad, born after 1975, and not retired from international play, and even Marcello Lippi drops you from his 2010 World Cup Squad of Fail, well, what else do you need to know? But thanks for the 2006 stuff.

BOTTLE PRON!

Lost Boy # 9

Vincenzo Iaquinta: Scowler, World Champion, D&G Underwear Model, Unwelcome Visitor to Dirtbunny's Sex Dreams

Oh Vince.

Oh what might have been if he weren't injured all the goddamn time! I mean, seriously. You spend more time with the medics than Nesta or Thiago Motta.

I'm too sick (among other things) to play football in Serie A, and they haven't put me on the squad. If you don't show up for work, eventually the boss is going to let you go. Foto Fail: That strap around his belly is a heart-rate monitor. It is worn around the chest, not over the belly button. That means that immediately after this was taken, Vince lifted his shirt a lot more and scootched the monitor to its proper location. Where are the photos of that, hm? I close with some photos of babies who sometimes train with the bigs, but aren't on the first team roster. They don't qualify as Lost Boys, but if any of them breaks out someday, it might be helpful to have heard of them. Federico Gagliardini, Berretti keeper. His hair is ready for the big time already. Hordur Magnusson, Primavera mid from Iceland. He's blonder than Sorensen, if that's possible. I really need to figure out how to use diacritical marks on the Mac. Gabriel Appelt, Brazilian hottie, Primavera midfielder. He's got a facebook page......*dangles link teasingly* By the way: I didn't see the Coppa match against Bologna, which is where the match photos in this post come from, and I was too lazy to look it up, but I gather that Juventus advanced to the next round.

Half-Hearted Old Lady Post: Chievo. Bleh. Whatever

2011-10-20T19:12:00.000-04:00

Originally posted on October 19, 2011

Chievo Verona 0:0 Juventus

It's not like I expected the Donkeys would crush the Zebes. It's just that, well, you know, they can, and they have, and last year they did. (Oh wait. The andata last year was a draw. It felt like a loss at the time and it still does.) This time around, Juve managed a clean sheet on a decent defensive performance and a lackluster offensive performance. A null-null draw. Just like nearly everyone else in Serie A last weekend. How very exciting.

The star of the show:

And not just because he always is, either. Because he came on as a SuperSub, immediately fired things up, made a crucial goal line clearance, and was mighty unlucky to knock a fine shot off the post.

I'm going to be blunt. I'm really not in the mood for any of this. However, it's not the players' fault that I'm so bummed, and it's not your fault either. I've got about 75 photos and some of them are pretty good and the Zebes survived an away game against the Donkeys. Woo. Hoo. So on I go as is my ~~duty~~ privilege. Fortunately, nothing much happened, so there wouldn't be much to say anyway.

Daylife thinks this is a photo of the pre-match warm-ups, but it's obviously a photo of the mascots. I always wondered how they corralled all those willful little creatures until they were needed.

We rated Captain Hairdo ~~Kaka Guy~~ for this match. He's cut back on the swirly pompadour this year.

Gigi continued to generate suspense with another "Good Enough, I Guess" performance.

Gio was the left back. He was adequate.

That gave Leo another chance to start at center back.

rawr. I like rawr.

Barza.

Big Ugly Monster

Looks like Lazio is doing well enough without him.

Don't be fooled. Monsters only have three kinds of feelings: HUNGRY! ANGRY! HORNY!

I'm not sure what this is, but it looks like "defending" to me, so it goes here. I'm never so bummed that I can't be compulsive about sorting and organizing things. You should see the lists I make.

And now, the Midfield.

Vidal.

At this point, you have two options with Vidal.

1. He sucks and we vastly overpaid. OR..... 2. He hasn't found his groove yet. I'm leaning towards #2. So far.

We are apparently supposed to care that Michael Bradley plays for the Donkeys now, what with him being on the U.S. Men's National Team. Woo. Hoo.

If you were Bradley-inclined, he was easy to spot on the pitch.

He was the ghostly pale bald white guy. NOTE: This technique does not work in the EPL.

Pirlo

That hair!

Chievo decided to mark him. It showed.

He wasn't as effective as he has been.

He's still Andrea Fucking Pirlo, World Champion, Regista of all Registas. That goon Agnelli would do well to remember that when his time comes. But I digress.

Marchisio.

Friend IRL: You're a Juve fan? Isn't Juve owned by, um, Gaddfafi?
DB: Um, partly, but the rest of them really aren't like that.

*scoff*

I tried to cheer myself up by going back to the 2011 D&G underwear campaign and looking at Claudio's foreskin.

It didn't work.

No points for guessing which one is Bradley.

Whatever. Might as well look at Il Mister.

Doing like he do.

That Holy Water thing was not a one-time deal. DB: *resolves to look up Holy Water on Wikipedia to see what it's for. I'm guessing it makes prayers stronger/louder or something*

Yup. Just looking at Il Mister cos this is about where Martha would put it and I'm a total copycat.

Aww, Man!

Things are unrelated!

Stop turning your anger and hurt about ADP in on yourself!

DB: Okay, Mister. I'll try.

I invented Blue Steel, bitch.

Oh, dear. Time for the wingers.

Pepe. Yeah. I know.

Look, Stephan! The ball's right there.

I don't care if you really care as long as you don't go.

Pepe adores il capitano. Adores him. I'll bet he knows how I feel.

Krasic.

Was Bad.

Seriously. What is wrong with him anyway?

Jack came on as a sub.

Wheeeeeeeeeere's Bradley?

Yeah, it's Jack. I eventually figured it out by the blue boots. Please take notice of the Slovenian barbarian committing the foul.

Mirketto was the lone striker up top.

Mirko belly!

It wasn't really working for Mirko.

I'd guess that the lone striker plan works better when your wingers aren't craptacular.

Going to the Euros, baby!

Hark! Who Dat?

It is the east! And Juliet is the sun!

*sob!*

Look at his face. He was fouled, but he's happy to go down--any time, any place--which is one of the reasons why I love him so much.

Well, that's just fucking great. Exactly the wrong mental image for me right now and I put it there myself.

Shit. I think I'm going to have to go to ITunes and download some cheesy Bon Jovi song. The only cure for Brain Worms is replacement Brain Worms. A couple of listens to "Wanted Dead or Alive" and I'll never think about sexxing Alessa again.

*sniffle*

*sings brokenly* I'm a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride.

*weakly* I've seen a million faces and I rocked them all.

It's not working.

Don't panic. There's got to be something I can do.

Oh no. This is bad.

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART
AND YOU'RE TO BLAME
YOU GIVE LOVE
A BAD NAME

*starts to panic*

I PLAY MY PART
AND YOU PLAY YOUR GAME
YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME

I can't find the one with the dirt.

I CAN'T FIND THE ONE WITH THE DIRT!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

There it is. Don't go off and hide like that! It's not funny!

Hey! You lay off mah bb, you brute!
~~omg massive testicles I bet they're painful.~~

Maybe this is a good place to stop.

Next match is Saturday at home against Genoa.

sniffle

2011-10-19T16:14:00.002-04:00

So a Springsteen song just came up in the IPOD rotation and I got all teary. A lot of people think that ADP resembles Springsteen. I don't see it, but I've heard it so many times that now I associate Springsteen with ADP every time I hear one of his songs. I'm still very upset. Very upset. I feel like I need to go online and buy one of every ADP jersey that's available to buy. Reacting to adversity by shopping. And they say that my left-wing views and inside-the-beltway address mean I'm not a real American.

Unrelated to ADP, sometimes I'm struck by how mature and dare I say deep Springsteen's early lyrics are. He was in his early 20s and barely begun to live. What can someone like that possibly know about feeling trapped, the desperation to live as one's authentic self, or um.... llluuuuuuuuussssssssssssssst? Fortunately, most popular music contains properly vapid and shallow lyrics so my mind isn't blown too often.

Old Lady Post: Niente Dire

2011-10-18T20:40:00.000-04:00

Today at a shareholder's meeting, Andrea Agnelli announced that this would be Alessandro Del Piero's last season at Juventus.

I have always heard it said that Del Piero decides when Del Piero leaves Juventus. So much for that. Andrea Agnelli's Juventus is first and foremost a business run for the benefit of the shareholders. Fuck the fans and fuck ADP too. Don't even give him a chance to make a graceful announcement.

I'm stunned and can't decide whether to cry or throw up.

Old Lady Post: Made of Win

2011-10-11T14:12:00.002-04:00

Originally posted on October 4, 2010

JUVENTUS 2:0 MILAN

I have stuff going on IRL (if you care, you can read about it here) so the euphoria of Juventus' glorious victory had faded a little, but then I came across a link to this video........

...and it's all back, baby. This might be the last Bianconeri win of the season but, courtesy of the international break, I intend to savor it for the next two weeks. Look at it! Look at Conte glomping Andrea and Gigi! Look at Bonucci and Gio lifting il Mister clear off the ground with mighty arms and hearts full of RAWR! Look at Lichtsteiner all "Oh, we're hugging. Ew. Okay. *pat pat* Can I go now?" And Pepe all "Hey coach! Hug me too! Hug me!" Thank goodness my ovaries are old and shriveled because I'm probably past the age where I can get pregnant over the Interwebs.

Or maybe not.

Whew. I hardly know where to start. *ponders* How 'bout with The Truth? Juventus played really well, but Milan was not at its best.

Milan's handsome Mister with the Belmondo-ian creases in his forehead was nervous enough to have cut himself shaving. Either that or Berlusconi gave him a hickey. Coaching Milan means putting up with special hardships.

The Republic of Clarence certainly looked like the Baddest Badass, but his form was not quite as good as it's been for the last few games. (Thank God).

KPB was back from injury but his challenges don't exactly have the same satiny smoothness of Sandro's.

This happened late in the match, but it helped, of course.

Zlatan started by earning fourth official Tagliavento's disapproval with his horrid hair.

After that, he was pretty much done, which is better than Cheetos, who didn't show up at all. Pato: *cackles*

Abbiati made some important saves.

Acrobatic saves make for nice photographs.

Milan looked absolutely terrible, which is not a fair reflection of how good a team they really are. So respect. Also: THREE POINTS!! NYAH NYAH erm, sorry

Gigi didn't have a lot to do except strut around and get bossy during set pieces.

Cheetos: Sheee-it. He's more accurate that I am today.

PDC is out injured and Conte put Grosso on the call-up sheet, so Juventini around the world embraced their dread and steeled themselves for another appearance by The Orange One. Conte, however, is not LDN. Conte decided to try something different. He started Gio at left back.

For those of you who are new, Gio started as a left back before he switched to the center. He's rusty, certainly, and he's by no means a world-class fullback. That said, he's Gio. With Barzagli playing on the left of center between Gio and Leo, the defense was much less exposed than it was when LDN tried this last season, and Gio seemed to have a good amount of confidence.

His sinewy legs!

Gio hasn't been quite the BAMF we've come to expect, although he ranks very high in league stats for completed passes. He's contributed, but Sunday he brought the OOMPH back to his defending.

Also? There are no photos of this, but he got a head knock towards the end of the match when KPB committed an intentional handball and smacked Gio in the face in the process. He spouted blood (yum) and had to wear a panty.

His face! &hearts

Barzagli's pants might have been uncomfortably bunchy, but Zlatan couldn't beat him.

He's been so good that I'm beginning to doubt whether we'll see Sorensen at all this season.

He's certainly earned his Azzurri call-up.

Leo Bonucci finally got a start. He was, um, clearly motivated to show Conte that he deserves more playing time.

RAWR!

He came close to a goal...

...but Abbiati saved it.

Sorry, Martha, but Bonera stank.

ONOZ!

The boy needs a rub-down. Unclench, bb.

I'm not perfect, but I'm perfect for you. unf

Defensively, the right flank was solid.

Milan never got off a good shot against the BUM.

Let KPB flail around with his elbows and so forth. Our BUM doesn't give a shit.

It's kind of sad how quickly I've come to take Lichtsteiner for granted. He'll start. He'll defend well. He won't fuck up. The end.

Oh yeah. He's still demented.

Going forward, on the other hand, the right flank was not all that.

Milos had another unremarkable game. Mmmmmmmmmmmm Zlatan!belly

Having the BUM behind him to lessen his defensive responsibilities hasn't shown results on offense yet.

He was subbed out for Jack early in the second half. No one cared.

C'mere, you.

I'd never say this about Zambrotta2006, but if you are known for your pace and you can't get past Zambrotta2011, you have a big problem. Sorry, Gian, but on paper he's supposed to beat you.

I don't remember Pepe at all, but he was obviously there on the left. *shrugs*

Vidal scurried around the midfield nicely.

He couldn't finish for shit. Maybe the goal mouth in the Bundesliga is 10m higher, I don't know.

He kept trying, though, crap finish after crap finish.

Mirko started alone up top.

He had some really nice shots in the first half.

He put in a beautiful shot that clanged heartbreakingly off the underside of the crossbar.

Milan had to work hard to mark Mirko.

I suppose this is a good time for a Sandro Show.

It's really kind of unsporting for Milan to keep sending him out to play.

He's supposed to be old and broke-down. That's what we all expect. He sure doesn't play like it.

If he decides he needs to come up behind me and nudge me with his groin, I'd be OK with that.

I'm not going to complain too much.

Juventus does have some pretty fine defenders, after all.

So. A few weeks ago, there was some bitching that Juve was too Pirlo-dependent and that some quality man-marking would shut him down and leave Juventus enfeebled. Juventus is perfectly capable of being enfeebled whether Andrea is on the pitch or not. Assuming that targeting Pirlo would be an effective strategy, Milan chose not to man-mark him.

I just can't even talk about him. I had no idea he was going to play like this when we signed him this spring. I'll bet Allegri didn't think so either. *snerk*

OMG. Clarence's thiiiiigh!

*adores*

Is it just me, or does Noce seem kind of....stubby?

Once again, visual confirmation that it's not the pants. Step it up, zebras.

Zlatan: Meh. I think I'll just stand around and watch. I get paid either way.

You know who else was busy?

Oh, come on. If you're reading this, you have Internet. If you have Internet, you have calcio news. If you have calcio news, you know exactly who exploded on Sunday.

Much of the attack came from Claudio rather than the wingers. No big surprise there, given the wingers, but Milan may have expected Claudio to sit back in the midfield and, I dunno, share recipes with Barza or something.

Excuse me for a moment, will you? Bite me, Van Bommel, you troll. Not even trying for the ball, are you?

I'm glad he hasn't been handicapped by his grotesque concentration face.

I'm also glad his dorky highlights have grown out.

I'm not sure what is going on down below Claudio's waist, but I'm feeling stirrings of competitiveness. Among other things.

At around minute 86, it was still null-null, and I was starting to think that a draw wasn't so bad, really, given that Milan are scudetto favorites. But then the Zebes did a bit of tricky one-touch passes as Claudio wove through the defense: Vidal, Claudio, Mirko, Bonera (oops), Claudio, goal.

GOAL!

I thought it might be an own goal, but the replays have convinced me that Bonera hardly got a toe on it, certainly not enough to deflect the pass away from Claudio, and Claudio definitely got the last touch.

This was entirely unexpected.

Claudio ran off to the curva to crow at his peeps.

Mercy me. *fans self*

And here in Our Nation's Capital, my house was like this:

Mirko got to Claudio first. He was the one who supplied the ball, after all.

Then Vidal, still wearing a bandage from last week's head knock, who was a crucial part of the build-up.

Then the rest of the boys arrived.

Then Claudio strutted back to the center for the restart.

I AM AMAZING! BOW DOWN BEFORE ME!

Zlatan: *pretends not to notice*

RAWR!

Zlatan: *examines shoelaces*

You've brought me fame and fortune and everything that goes with it. I thank you all.

After that, KPB bloodied Gio's face. While Chiello lay on the floor getting his head all bandaged up and getting comforted oh-so-tenderly by Leo, Agnelli lit up a smoke in the tribuna while Elkann gave Nonna Agnelli un bacio. Really. But Gio bounded to his feet once the panty was in place, and it was time for the zebras to go to sleep.

Only they didn't. Milan went to sleep. Jack took a run to the corner and sent a pretty crappy shot into the box, Milan cleared it lazily and sloppily, and the ball went to Claudio, who took a shot from distance and there it was.

Pathetically, Abbiati both got nutmegged and fumbled the ball between his hands.

Poor fascist. *awkward pat*

Pepe was thrilled, cos he knew he was about to get some.

Too cute.

Gigi did a little happy dance, and in my head, he was doing "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love" onstage at the Palace Hotel Ballroom.

I need you, you, you.

I need you, you, you.

Sweeheart to miss. Sugar to kiss....

Mirko gave Claudio another cuddle after the final whistle.

And soon everyone else came up for a post-match Festival of Love.

Including il Mister.

Cute butt, Andrea.

Il Mister got himself a handful of Andrea and Claudio, and Pepe decided not to be left out. &hearts

Capitano Gigi congratulating the youngster. Juventino per sempre.

Don't squeeze him too hard, Gio. Andrea to DB: Are you kidding, bitch? I ran with Rino for years. I can handle it rough. Go away so he can choke me out.

Andrea's got his eyes all scrunched shut with squee. *dies of teh cute*

Il Mister may have forgotten he's the Mister now. He's acting a bit like a teammate. Will he be able to re-establish discipline? *portentous music*

OMG Leo. *wants*

Don't crush him. He's awfully slender! Andrea to DB: *glares*

And then they all went off the curvas to love the tifosi.

Except ADP, who may have looked sour and sulky on the sideline, but who was actually anxiously hoping for an early flight to Dulles for his two weeks in DC with Bunny. I baked a cake for you, sweetie.

BUM is naked? Of all those magnificent men, BUM is the one who takes off his shirt for us?

So proud of you guys.

'course it's just one match. No one has won the scudetto yet.

You can't possibly go a whole season without a loss. No one can.

There will be suck in the future, so let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Still though, you've done good, and the tifosi thank you for the joy. Next time, how about give the fangirlz something more than Lichtsteiner's pale torso to thank you for, 'mkay.

Next match is October 16 at Chievo. Oh no. No. Not Chievo. Fucking donkeys.

For those of you Milanistas and other non-Juventini who've lasted all the way to the bitter end, thanks. I know it's been a bit like watching two friends get revoltingly schmoopie. Here's your reward.

These are from last summer's D&G underwear campaign. If they look familiar, it's because I stole them from bustedflush and hameow.

They covered them exhaustively, for which we are all very grateful.

If you're interested in this sort of thing, and you're here so you must be, here are links so you can revisit 2010 posts from April 14, April 15, April 25 (never mind the Monty), April 29, April 30, and June 10.

What? Vincenzo is still a zebra--officially--but Amauri may finally be leaving. So sad.

I love Martha.

Finally, this one is worth seeing again.

I'd like to take those moles and play connect-the-dots with my tongue.