What are you getting for the kids whose parents you don’t hate?
No doubt nursing the great-great-grandfather of all hangovers. 
Can we still talk about the octopus? The octopus is cool! I want a psychic octopus* of my very own.
*Band name!
:smack:
Uhhh, yeah; that’s where the wheels fall off for me, too, now that you mention it.
Well, Didier Drogba is credited with single-handedly ending the Ivorian civil war, so apparently soccer means something.
Love ya too dipshit!
Meh! 'luc knows better than to try to get a rise out of moi. Besides, he reads any of my posts, my title ought to get him fuming over and over.
And yep, thanks, I did <—that was about an hour b4 kickoff. SRO by the time match started. And my son went nuts as well.
Well, I tried. Texans are widely admired for our modesty and humility, so I thought to offer some avuncular advice and guidance. To no avail, it seems.
How wide? About the size of, say, Texas?
Of course, the term “universally” leaps to mind, but one hesitates at the brink of a superlative.
In the case of Texans, the hesitation arises out of the difficulty of spelling them, I imagine.
Americans, why do you hate The Rest Of The World?
It’s full of communist furries, apparently.
America are shit.
The sport is the most popular game in the world.
American football is a game that is just a more shit version of rugby, with girlie pads
in case you get hurt.
Ice hockey is Canadian.
Baseball started off as a playground game called rounders, which you eventually grow out of playing.
Basketball is slightly more boring than watching cricket, which is only slightly better than someone digging their nails into your eyeballs.
Chill, dude. The OP was just joshing w/me. No need to make this The Mother Of All Dumb Battles.
I don’t care! Who’s gonna get me the 20 bucks I lost betting on Holland!
Now see? That’s the very meaning of “dumb.” 
I’ve got to say, Red Fury, I was not expecting your eyes to be able to focus on anything smaller than a windmill for–like–a week. I can only assume that the victory party was limited by somebody setting fire to the bar.
Ese insulto sólo se lo olvidaré con un kilo de jamon pata negra
(jugaron bien, carajo, acepto la derrota)
(I’ll only forget that insult with a kilo of ham)
Well yeah. That and getting on in years both had something to do with it. Still, I feel like I’m walking on a cloud. Haven’t felt this happy since I got divorced.
Joerrrrr macho! Pata Negra no less?! Conformarte con un Ibérico y vas que chutas!
Y gracias hermano.
(No Pata Negra for Ají de Gallina unless I’m there to share)