VII: She'll be waiting in Istanbul

I figured I'd go ahead and explain the last post's title via this one - if you click the link, you'll see where it comes from.

So I'm watching the World Cup final. Ever since my Swedes got knocked out, I've kind've been bounding between countries. At first I thought "Ok I'll cave and root for the motherland - England," but no, they stiffed me. So I've been going for France.

It's a pretty rough game, with Italy basically playing like a bunch of jackasses taking as many hits as they can get. Yeah, I know it's a physical sport, a contact game, but every other minute in the first half saw an Italian sending a Frenchie to his ass. What a bunch of dickweeds. They're basically playing the physical game to make up for their lack of finesse, which sees the French outmatching them by and large. Still, it makes for an interesting competition, I suppose. I just wish the Italian team wasn't such a giant collection of assholes.

And all due respect to the Italiano fans of SWP -- I know that's not the entire country, just their soccer players.

So last night we finally went out to Hamilton for the big bash at "Casa Copafeela," the Hamilton home of Cary and Chris. I was supposed to bring a sleeping bag and made concerted efforts throughout the day to find one to no avail. So I packed a light blanket and pillow and beer. I'd been meaning to get out to the beer store, but was unable to due to my general lack of transportation. So I took my remaining bottle of Stella and a few Bohemians from mom. I figure she won't mind since that means there wasn't enough left for Eric to get drunk on (I think. In any case, he doesn't seem to have,) and off to Hamilton I went courtesy of Mr. Brown.

While for some the night was questionable, I heartily enjoyed it. There was a bit of drama, yes, and maybe excessive video gaming from certain parties, but I enjoyed the company and didn't drink myself sick, instead settling into a comfortable buzz throughout the night.

And then there was the unsubtly smoke-scented loft wherein many of the partyogers hat enclosed themselves. It's not my scene, but if that's what they're into, hah, go for it.

I was lucky enough to snag a couch rather than sleeping on the floor. It wasn't a full-sized couch, mind, but I curled up nicely into it and drifted in and out of sleep starting around 3 and going until... 6-ish. Yeah, I got out of bed at 6 because of how difficult it was becoming to ignore the sunlight and passing cars by the window. C'est la vie. I went on an overly long trip for coffee (and a croissant,) and then just bummed around the house for a while, sitting on the balcony, playing Chris Ferguson's DS, etc, etc. Finally, 9:00 rolled around and Chrisbrown rounded up the other two and we headed for home.

What I really enjoyed was the ambiance. It's a good house to sit around and drink in, then pass out, like Conorton's was. We haven't had that since he moved off to New York in February.

So yeah, got home around 10 and been bumming around the house all day, which takes me to where I am now.

It was a good night, it's been a good day.

Keep on rockin'
Scott