I haven’t been writing some serious shit these days. Maybe its due to the fact that I am happened to be an IB student, who have thick books and lengthy ASSignments staring at me, with gun and knife on both hands. Countless late nights of slavery in doing fucking lab reports, fingers numb from writing extensive discussions and evaluations on why this and that happened during experiments, an inch thick of assignment papers covered the floor (and countless more on my study carol, but I got it nicely stacked up after Liverpool book their place in the semi-final of the Champions League, what an inspiration), stacks an empty mug of coffee sitting on the table since 3 days ago – that is the scene everyone would get upon entering A211, besides seeing Cucam snoring like a Snorlex. Blame all the grueling assessments IB had on us. But hey, however I think this itinerary that would embed in our memories for lifetime. It is definitely not a road strewn with roses but it was one that makes us undergraduates more hardened. I am an avid footballer and one of many huge fans of the game. I have so much of passion and interest on the game, where I had once cried when Selangor was vanished by a northern team of Kedah, during 1996 Liga M season, and I lost my appetite for 2 days after that. Quite recently, I couldn’t even sleep all night and I got my mind unfocused during Chemistry class, when Pn. Salma enthusiastically explained the reaction kinetics and what not, my head went to Singapore, reflecting why Kyril Muhaimin couldn’t seal the spot kick for Malaysia. And Malaysia lost to that small country, whose citizens drink recycled water everyday. It wouldn’t be a surprise if my mood would go haywire if Liverpool fail to lift the European silverware I and every Koppites have been dreaming of. And that is how I love my game. But one idiot strucked me on my dick with this stupid hypothesis, which I would be happy to score a huge middle finger to that person.
"Am, ko main bola sebab nak impress dak dak pompuan ke?"
Fuck. And that’s how I reacted upon hearing that stupid deduction on why I play the beautiful game.
They say, to score a girl, you have to play sport, have a good look, have a good taste in fashion, have handsome cash in your wallet and whatever it is to get that G spot going. But I never give a fuck about that for I do things my way and what I feel like doing. I am not doing things to hook some gadis up, and it same goes to football, I play it because I love it, and not because I am in love with someone else. And if I do have feeling to some gadis, I would go straight to her and maneuvering a big French kiss, rather than keeping a distance with her, showing my Ronaldinho-like skill (Ha Ha), and hoping I will hit her G spot. Dude, couldn’t it be lamer?
Playing football to get some tits is so not me.
Ah, by the way, I am just hoping that that idiot would get a model or Miss World to be his spouse for playing a sloppy football and crappy skills. Anyway thanks dude, you made me love football even more.
Play with your heart, that is Joga Bonito.
Not play for any tits, that is Fucka Fuckito.
We converted the ironing ledge to a boot gallery
I got myself bald-headed to impersonate Zizou
I had this as my laptop's wallpaper and get people laugh off me in the process
We ran, we fell, we laughed, we strived, then we laughed again
All that made evening the best part of my day
P.S. Please excuse my words. They are there to help myself expressing better. I just can’t take them out of my annoyance and resentment. One without the other is the eyes without the ears. Cheers.
way to go..love your game!!
joga bonito