The Dream Team - The Prologue

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

So, all the megastars of the football world got together tonight for a benefit match to aid the tsunami victims. Almost everyone was there, save the players from Chelsea and Manchester United who are obviously more concerned about a Championship than playing a little casual footsie to raise money. What's even more scandalous about Chelsea's refusal is the fact that their owner is probably one of the richest men in the world, capable of throwing just as much cash at the benefit than was actually raised. But what can you expect of Russian Arriviste Mafia except that they're known for eating copious amounts of caviar and supporting a particular grotesque version of blond bimbo.

Ironically, just last night, at the Paul Ricard opening, was casually speaking to BLES who is now a fullhearted Chelsea supporter despite not really watching any of the Premier League games. What's even funnier is that at the beginning of the year, he professed his undying love for Nantes, a team which now stands in the bottom half of the football standings. If I didn't know it before, I know have clear proof of his hilarious idea of support. Still, must not snark openly because have promised myself that people who are that sparkless have to stop black holing my choutzpah.

I'm a Ronaldinho fan anyways, and maybe BLES was offended at my offering my awkward artgirl body to a bucktoothed pony-tailed Brazilian extra-terrestrial. But I like them ugly... gash toothed lumpy heads with three legs. Guys hate it when girls like the ugger.

The Lacombite was with me last night, both of us flying solo for the early half of the evening. His Soul Lover was working, and my guy was at home gristling on his website madness. So there we were, getting free drinks, ignoring mediocre drawings, watching the less than normally sexy crowd at the opening... in short, kind of being bored, and then taking off to have very expensive french fries next to Place Concorde. I'm warming up to the man... I mean, despite being a fan of the butterflies, I preferred hanging out eating fries with the Lacombite far from that madding crowd. There's something comforting about just shooting the shit in your native language with a guy who's definitely got more than his fair share of wit. It's probably just that underneath my flusterbudget exterior, I am a super geek.

After that, went on Valentine's date with Dacnar to watch Melinda Melinda, a rather paltry offering from Allen, something we've come to expect once he wedded his little Vietnamese daughter. The saving grace of that film being the great Earl Schoslinger dentist guy, his trampoline and shot animals. Otherwise, a big miss.

Anyways... why the dream team? Well, later on today, I came across a nice little survey by Douglas Adams... all about dream everything. And, while it seems ultimately pointless, I've always been obsessed with superlatives and lists, clearing the air with decisive rankings. So yah... here are the questions. Check the next post for the answers. And feel free to making your own Dream List, in Dreamtime, or Dreamstation, or Dreaming Monkeyshine Tommyknocking Hellraiser Bumblethwart.