It's the most wonderful time of the year

Pre-final article round-up time. Click the links. They are funny. And short.

Pulpo Paul was correct in predicting the Germans would beat Uruguay to take third place (3-2 final), but it was an entertaining match and the Uruguayans led for a fair portion. How Paul the Octopus ruined Germany's Cup dream.

In regard to the absurd number of handballs that have changed results this cup, what would happen if FIFA applied Sharia law. In my opinion, France would not have been in the Cup at all but for Henry's double handball to send them through over Ireland, but I don't think Suarez's handball against Ghana would be talked about still had Gyan put away his penalty instead of bouncing it off the bar. To be fair to Suarez, any other professional in his place would have done exactly as he did.

Rafael van der Vaart of the Netherlands reflects on his teammate Wesley Sneijder's success this Cup. "I suspect he (Sneijder) has a gold vuvuzela in his pants."

Finally, an article that pretty much describes why I'm supporting Spain over Holland for the final, even though I love them both. La Furia Roja, Pulpo Paul thinks you have what it takes and so do I.

Hey look! I'm trendy!

Dear blog traffic,

If you got here by googling "Sergio Ramos," I feel that your needs could be better served by clicking the link on the right under "footy." Or just go here: Kickette.com. Stalk away, my darlings. :)

I swear I referenced a picture Sergio only once. Yoann Gourcuff is my footballer du jour. On that note, Sergio and Joan say hello. (AP)

season of looooooove

One of the most annoying aspects of my life is people writing me off as soon as they hear I've been somewhere awesome. Anywhere other than the states that bound Oregon. Which is a grand total of four, if you were counting.

The problem with this is that my travel defines me.

For example, one day I felt beautiful:

It was a sunny July day in Barcelona. B and I were walking back to our hostel from the beach, our hair damp, our skin tanned by the Riviera rays. We were walking through Badalona and a man stepped out of a shop. He was lighting up a cigarette, but he was entirely still for a moment as he looked at me. I was salty from the Mediterranean, but I wore no makeup. He looked like Sergio Ramos.

I think that what sticks with me is that he made me feel beautiful without ever uttering a word. He was in a hurry, but not so much that he didn't notice me.




I don't have to be pretty all the time. Being appreciated is nice. And let me say that I miss Spain once in awhile.