The U.S. soccer team's performance against Morocco last night wasn't actually awe-inspiring (was Landon Donovan instructed not to try to score a goal?), but I am sticking to my belief that they will make it to the semifinals.
BEAR IN A TREE!
Tip No. 1: Stop buying our cars.
The child bride and I will be traveling to the great state of Utah (the Beehive State) tomorrow. Her second-youngest sister is getting married. And because the child bride enjoys torturing me, we will be staying at her parents' house, instead of a hotel, as I suggested.
True, I'm not a fan of All Fox News All The Time, which seems to be the rule at her parents' house, but that's not why I wanted to stay at a hotel. The fact is people can give me claustrophobia. And this house is going to be full of people who will be in town for the wedding: me, the child bride, the child bride's mother, the child bride's father, the child bride's oldest sister and her husband and five children, the child bride's younger sister and her husband and three children (one of which, in fairness, is the Cutest Niece in America), and the sister who is actually getting married. That's 17 people in a five-bedroom home -- never mind the dozens and dozens of friends and family members that will be milling around during the day. And all but one (me) are Mormon. How am I supposed to watch hardcore pornography in that atmosphere?
It gets worse. Pete, the bloke foolishly marrying into this family, is a Green Bay Packer fan. This makes him my sworn enemy.
The Packers this year, and Brett Favre especially, are old and busted but I won't have much success in lording this over Pete because Brad Johnson is even older than Favre. Pete is picking us up at the airport and the conversation in the two-hour car ride to St. George will probably go like this:
PETE: "The Packers are the best team ever, ever, ever... blah, blah, blah... Super Bowl appearances... blah, blah, blah."
ME: "Your quarterback is an old and busted pain-pill fiend who doesn't have the capacity to know when it's time to quit."
PETE: "Brad Johnson is 38 years old, couldn't scramble if he was being shot at, and played in NFL Europe... blah, blah, blah... Super Bowl appearances."
ME: "Packers' 2004 NFC playoff loss... blah, blah, blah... Interception of idiot play on first down... blah, blah, blah... Favre threw 29 interceptions in the 05-06 season."
PETE: "Blah, blah, blah... Super Bowl appearances... blah, blah, blah."
ME: "Did you really insist on chocolate fountains? Rachel told me you insisted on having chocolate fountains at the wedding reception. What self-respecting man insists on a chocolate fountain?"
PETE: "Welsh sounds like Klingon."
Or something like that. I've never met Pete, so I'm guessing on how the conversation will go. He's bigger than me; he may just choose to punch me in the face.
I will try to do a few audio posts while I'm there, but things may be rather quiet on this blog until Wednesday.