butt of course

I’m so excited. It’s that time of year again. It’s time to get ready, choose your colours, choose your team, root your heart out, and be damned if you loose. You know what I’m talking about - its soccer season.

It’s the season when all the yummy hotties, from around the world, get out their tiny shiny shorts and chase a ball for some ninety odd minutes, it’s the season when it’s ok to stare at the television set without blinking, and yes, ‘tis a season to be jolly. Very bloody jolly.

Without a doubt soccer is my favourite sport. And not just for the obvious reasons. My fetish for tight male posteriors is just one of its fascinating aspects. And boy, are they fascinating.
*Day-dream break please* “Oh Rio, your so strong”

Ahem, the second most fascinating part about soccer is the fact that you cannot bear to fall asleep, switch the channel or even take a pee break, for fear you will miss an unbelievably crazy goal that some mid-fielder shot in the 73rd minute of the second half. And if you do miss it, you will beat yourself silly- vowing never to pee again.

This is where I do not understand the passion for cricket. Cricket, where it is easy to fall asleep during a match, or maybe even the days in between a test series, is the slowest game- third only to golf and chess. I may very well be lynched for saying this, but the only cricket match I will watch is one between Pakistan and India – because that’s the only time when the damn game has some spice.

I cannot claim to be a huge die-hard soccer fan. I do not know all the names of all the players in all the teams. I do not know their best and worst game. I do not know their coaches names. I don’t know my Arsenal players numbers –(yes, I am an Arsenal fan – so all you Man U fans can kiss my a**.) In any case, when I say I love the game, I mean I love it. There is no other sport that I would willingly watch or pay to see other than soccer.

And I would pay more if Fredrik Ljungberg were bare bodied.
*Day-dream break please* “Oh Freddie can you bend over and pick up that pen, it fell by ‘accident’…”

The World Cup is my favourite. I whole-heartedly support my home country Brazil, and if they get out in the semi’s then its Portugal. And if this year, as some suspect, the World Cup is rigged by Germany, I will murder the lot of them. Shove schnitzel up their butts. If any of the countries are willing to rig this game, they do not deserve to play. This is an honest sport. This is a righteous sport. This is a good sport.

The fever has hit my office too. Some of the have started playing soccer on the beach every Saturday. (Including my national-treasure-butt boy, what a yummy treat it is.) I have volunteered to be a mascot and a cheerleader and a water girl if they need one. Apparently they don’t need any of the above. But I am going for the next practice anyway. They may take my life, but they will never take – My football.

I’ve got my Brazil top, my yellow and green face paint ready, the new 40” Flat screen in my uncles house is awesome, I have rested my eyes for some earnest butt watching - I’m all geared up for some serious soccer mania.

So join me, when I say, Olay, olay, olay, olayyy.

P.s: I have decided I have to marry a football player. Anyone know any single ones?