Since the World Cup started two weeks ago, J and I have tried to keep up with the many matches in group rounds. We mostly stream the games on our computers while hovering around J's work desk or in our living room (hey the car seat is proving useful even before the baby arrives). As you can imagine, watching all of the games with internet streaming quality on a 14" screen isn't exactly ideal. So, we've visited several venues over the past couple of weeks to catch some of the more exciting games. When J's parents were in town, we rolled out of bed to watch the 7am Argentina vs. Nigeria game. Later that day, we stopped in at the Mission Theater (one of our favorite second-run movie houses) to see the USA vs. England game, which was really fun and exciting.
As dedicated fans, yesterday morning we set the alarm for 6am and shuffled over to a local divey sports bar to see the USA vs. Algeria and the England vs. Slovenia games. Bars all over town have been opening early (some even open for the 4am games) to cater to the crowds of Portland soccer fans. Most even throw together some sort of special breakfast menu, you know, to help soak up the pitchers of beer they're pouring just after sunrise. This bar was no different. J and I ponied up to the bar right in front of one of probably two dozen flat screen TVs, ordered two Vuvuzela specials and two coffees. The kitchen started slinging eggs, bacon, and sausage right away and waitresses spent the morning carrying armfuls of breakfast plates, delicious looking bloody marys, and pitchers and pints of beer. It was awesome.
One of the announcers during the USA game said that "Americans must be dying a thousand deaths over and over," which pretty much summed up the feeling during the nail-bitingly close match. When Donovan scored that goal in the first minute of stoppage time, the bar erupted with cheers, bar stools fell over, beer splashed in the air, and everyone started chanting USA! USA! USA! J and I walked home excited, yet exhausted.
Later that afternoon, I was thinking about how quite a few of my pregnancy books have stressed that the baby can hear noises. Certain familiar sounds that he hears in utero might be soothing once he's born, like my voice, J's voice, or certain beats from music. One even went so far to suggest that babies who are read to in the womb might even show preference to those books once born. If that truly is the case, then we're going to have to purchase a vuvuzela track (or a swarm of angry bees) as white noise, since that is probably the most consistent external noise he'll hear for most of June and July.
We have become Thursday night regulars at PGE Park when the Timbers are in town, but I was feeling a little run down last night after class. However, when I called home to let Jesse know that I was on my way home, he informed me that two of our friends were coming over for drinks before the soccer game (and that he had cleaned the apartment in preparation). Score! I immediately felt energized. I rode my bike to the grocery store and picked up all of the necessary ingredients for the "Triple B" (the meal formerly known as Bachelor Broccoli Burritos) so we could have a quick bite to eat before heading out. After a cocktail or two, we were set to go.
Timbers games are always more fun with a little fire in your belly. And if you're grouped with or near the Army, there's no sitting allowed or a quiet moment to pass. The Timbers played the Vancouver (a huge rival game), so the fans were overjoyed when we beat the Whitecats 1-0. We walked into the game a little late this time around, but made with only a minute to spare before the first (and only) goal was scored by the Timbers. It was a fast-paced game that put them in a two-way tie for first place in the league and added to their unbeaten streak of 19 games -- a new record.
This was the second win over Vancouver this season, which mandated that the Cascadia Cup (an entirely fan-based rivalry) be passed to Portland for the very first time. We stopped in at the Bitter End pub for a celebratory beer after the game and the team showed up for a victory lap -- at which point someone filled the Cascadia Cup with beer for every one to drink. Gross. I happily watched from the safety of my booth as the cup was passed around by the crowd. It was quite festive and fun. Timber Joey was even there, sans chainsaw of course.
The Timbers are playing again on Saturday against the Charleston Battery and we are definitely going to make that game. By then my voice should be back to normal for more raucous cheering and goading. God, I love soccer.
I started a post on Friday to talk about my Thursday night at the Timbers game. The game was awesome. However, they tied with the Puerto Rico Islanders despite my chanting with the rest of the crowd. I think when I become gainfully employed again, Timbers season tickets are going to be a household budget line item. I was really excited to write about my night out with Jesse and our friend Tivra, but my laptop power cord died and I wasn't able to figure out how to transfer photos from my camera to Jesse's laptop. Even though I'm only half-way finished with my coffee and the synapses aren't all firing in sync, I plugged in the old camera for a second try. While waiting for the 698 photos to load off my memory card (because I don't have the option to only load 3), I'll tell you a little about my weekend.
I decided to make Friday night a celebration because I successfully completed my first week of school, Jesse finished editing a giant proposal, and I hadn't cooked a real meal since his birthday the week before. So, we made homemade fettuccine and I threw together a fresh tomato sauce that was pretty darn tasty. It was hot and my voice was scratchy from the Timbers game the night before, but it was so nice to sit down and have a nice dinner. I'll have to write down and post the recipe for the sauce sometime, but that's for another day.
Saturday was even hotter than Friday (peaking at about 92 degrees) and to beat the heat we had cocktails blended with lots of ice. I then got dressed up and met up with a few ladies on the tail end of a martini crawl. It was so much fun because I have neither dressed up, nor had a ladies night out since I moved to Portland. Not surprisingly, I paid for my Saturday night fun with a serious case of the slows on Sunday. Yesterday it hovered around 95 degrees outside until 6pm and didn't get much below 80 in the evening. Today, tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday are supposed to be around 99-102 degrees, so Jesse and I are planning on heading out in a little while to spend the day in air-conditioning.
I'll head off to my second week of class and he'll probably find a coffee shop or park at a table at the library to get some writing done. After this week I'll officially be half-way finished with my summer course. It was a little hard to get back into reading a textbook and participating in discussion, but I'm getting the hang of it again.
That's pronounced "ass-wee-pay". Not to be confused with a more derogatory word that might get me a Jackass Card (the penalty for being a jerk in our league). Have I mentioned before that Jesse and I are on a kickball team?
I was adamantly opposed to joining, given my horrible experience a couple of years ago in D.C., which involved another team throwing food at us on the street and very angry words (I seriously nearly decked a guy in cropped pants). However, I relented when I realized that it might be a fun way to make friends. Also, Jesse's co-worker (who invited us in the first place) is really nice, so she was bound to have nice colleagues. And she does have really, really great friends. Our league is called Recess Time and we are the Drinking Team with A Kicking Problem. Our name pretty much sums up our skills, but we're in the C group, which means that we're really bad and like to play people who are there to have fun. I'm pretty sure in this photo we were laughing at one of our teammates falling flat on his/her back (no injuries were sustained, except for a total loss of pride).
Up to this point, we have had a great time. Our team has graciously lost every single game, fumbling our way through the field with occasional bursts of genius. However, last night, we encountered a group of particularly heinous kickballers who blew us away (which wasn't the problem) and then insulted our team under their breath as we were giving the obligatory high-five after the game. Come on?! We're all adults. And this is kickball for god's sake! I won't say anymore, because they're just not worth it. I hope they crawl back into their dark holes in Portland and stay there.
Anyway, after our sorry performance in the outfield, a few of us have called an emergency practice session this weekend to brush up on catching and throwing. I know, kickball boot camp in our free time? Whatever, I don't think you realize how bad we really are. Then, we're going to take our anger out on the next team and leave them in the dust -- in a very non-asswipé, fun-loving way.
*Thanks to Lauren's cousin, Steve, for introducing me to my favorite insult/curse word disguised as a foreign language.
Since the World Cup started two weeks ago, J and I have tried to keep up with the many matches in group rounds. We mostly stream the games on our computers while hovering around J's work desk or in our living room (hey the car seat is proving useful even before the baby arrives). As you can imagine, watching all of the games with internet streaming quality on a 14" screen isn't exactly ideal. So, we've visited several venues over the past couple of weeks to catch some of the more exciting games. When J's parents were in town, we rolled out of bed to watch the 7am Argentina vs. Nigeria game. Later that day, we stopped in at the Mission Theater (one of our favorite second-run movie houses) to see the USA vs. England game, which was really fun and exciting.
As dedicated fans, yesterday morning we set the alarm for 6am and shuffled over to a local divey sports bar to see the USA vs. Algeria and the England vs. Slovenia games. Bars all over town have been opening early (some even open for the 4am games) to cater to the crowds of Portland soccer fans. Most even throw together some sort of special breakfast menu, you know, to help soak up the pitchers of beer they're pouring just after sunrise. This bar was no different. J and I ponied up to the bar right in front of one of probably two dozen flat screen TVs, ordered two Vuvuzela specials and two coffees. The kitchen started slinging eggs, bacon, and sausage right away and waitresses spent the morning carrying armfuls of breakfast plates, delicious looking bloody marys, and pitchers and pints of beer. It was awesome.
