While my boyfriend is watching the 43rd minute....
of the Knights and Sea Eagles game, I thought I'd dabble in a bit of blogging.Now it's the 48th minute and I've just realised it's taken me five whole minutes to write one sentence.
I could say that it's because I'm so thoroughly engrossed in the game and that I can't take my eyes off Joey John's buns, but the reality is I'd rather choke on my own putrid vomit. I'm also perplexed by my boyfriend's interest in the game, only because it was he who declared I would damage my reputation if I continued to announce my predilection to the Tigers.
.....approximately one year ago.....
Me: "I like the Tigers because Balmain is kinda near Marsfield...." (Actually Parramatta is probably closer but the moment I think of this suburb I think of its partiality to crack addicts and a string of bad pizza joints.)
BF: "But they're now the Wests Tigers biatch, get with da program." (Ok, so he doesn't really talk like that but I thought I'd give him a rougher P-Diddy like edge.
Me: "You got me. It's coz of Scott Prince. And his buns." (It's fair to say at this point that buns are my "thang". Like how alcohol is to Robert Downey Jnr and crime is to Chopper Reed.)
So the conversation goes on about how league players are thugs and how the real rugby is the one where you have 345 rules and the players actually have real jobs. He tells me with so much gusto that I can actually see the veins on his temples flare up. He despises league like a tumour on your tongue. I tune out of course as buns are on my mind. But this time I'm thinking about whether to have it with the all beef pattie or the fillet-o-fish with extra mayo.
posted by Lokes @ 9:09 PM
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