Well, I love jousting, you know, with the long sticks. So, a few days ago a friend and I went jousting, like normal.
So, we’re charging, he’s on a horse, but I just have the stick under my arm. So, my stick goes into the horse’s chest while his stick goes over my head.
Anyway, the horse freaks out and knocks him off. So, I go over and offer my hand to help him up, but while I’m doing that I scratch myself on his armour.
And that’s how I got this tiny scratch.
A week ago Euro 2016 finished, and Portugal claimed victory over France in the final. It was a tight match, won 1-0 in extra-time. Eder’s brilliant long range winner deserved to win any match, however it seems that I’m the only one to notice major referee influence in that long range winner. Eder struck his winner in the 109th minute of the final, but it was a referee’s decision two minutes earlier that influenced that winner…
In the 107th minute the ball bounced up into a player’s arm as Eder and French defender Laurent Koscielny tussled for the ball. The referee awarded Portugal a free-kick (that hit the bar) and gave Koscielny a yellow card for handball. However, replays showed that the ball actually hit Eder’s arm, meaning the free-kick should’ve gone to France and Laurent Koscielny never should’ve received a yellow card.
Two minutes later the ball comes across to Eder, Koscielny comes out to him but doesn’t challenge him, allowing Eder time and space to shoot (and score the winner). Koscielny should’ve challenged Eder and probably needed to foul him because Eder was getting away from him. Yes, a professional foul and yellow card offense, but something that a player has to do.
The only reason that Koscielny didn’t bring Eder down in that moment is the yellow card that he was unfairly given minutes before. If Koscielny didn’t have that yellow card he would have brought Eder down, because he already had a yellow card he couldn’t run the risk of picking up a second.
An incorrect refereeing decision contributed to Portugal’s triumph, but Eder still had to put the ball in the back of the net from range with a wonderful shot. And he did just that.
Well, ten days after I turned eight, got my lips stick in a gate, my friends all laughed, and I just stood there until the fire department came and broke the lock with a crow bar and I had to spend the next six weeks in lip rehab with this kid named Oscar who got stung by a bee – right on the lip – and we couldn’t even talk to each other until the fifth week cause both of our lips were so swollen and when he did start speaking he just spoke Polish, and I only know three words in Polish, except now I know four because Oscar taught me the word for lip, usta!
There was also a time when I had to kiss my Great Aunt Ruth, she had a beard, and it felt weird.
When I was just two years old I left my lips out in the cold, and they turned blue, what could I do?
Childhood scarred me.
A while ago I was in a horror movie, but it was a slightly odd horror movie.
It wasn’t a dark and stormy night, instead it was a crisp early morning and it all started when I felt a chill down my spine.
As I went through my morning routine I heard rustles outside. In most horror movies people would’ve gone outside to check, not me. I just stayed inside and locked the doors.
As I picked up the keys to my car, three loud knocks jolted my attention.
“Knock, knock,” came the call from behind the door.
I stood frozen as my gaze fell to the door.
“You’re supposed to say ‘Who’s there’,” came the voice from behind the door.
“But I know who’s there. Marco you’re in front of a glass door. I can see right though it. Now, can we go? Or do you insist on playing this game again?”