Jun. 14th, 2006

winterbadger: (freddy adu ball)
from my buddy Justin:

Someone actually counted [US midfielder Damarcus] Beasley's touches [in the US-Italy game]:

DMB Final count:

44 touches

13 miss-traps for loss of possession
14 passes for turn over
9 back passes

For a Total of:

27 turnovers.
36 plays that amounted to nothing from him.

Out of 44 touches only EIGHT directionally forward, completed passes (and I gave him the benefit of the doubt, 3 square passes counted as OK plays).

ouch!

Jun. 14th, 2006 10:43 am
winterbadger: (bugger!)
As observed by Will Howells

an embarrassing moment for a canvasser

(Don't know that I would have recognised him, but I'm still nto that clued in on current British politics, and he has held three ministerial appointments.)
winterbadger: (blackadder)
OK, so I had a very trying day (week, so far, in fact), and I had to rush everywhere, then rush home to have dinner and go do this sleep study that my doctor ordered. I get in there and they've got me all wired up, and telling me I have to sleep a completely different way than I normally do, and every time I move another sensor falls off and someone rushes in to adjust it. And I could tell it was getting later and later, and I wasn't sleepy at all, and I have to work ten hours tomorrow (and the next day), and I know they wake you up at 5 to get you out by 5.30. And it all seemed so pointless. There's no way I'm going to sleep normally under those circumstances. There's no way they're going to be able to tell me anything that has the least applicability to my normal life based on such an irrational, irregular test. And I'm going to get zilch in the way of useful sleep and be tired and stressy and cranky tomorrow. And it's all just a big industry to sell forced-air machines and exotic surgery, when what most of us need is to lose weight, drink less alcohol and caffeine, and get a good night's sleep every night.

So I did something very liberating. I stopped. I said, "I'm sorry, but I think I'm not going to bother with this. And I'm going to leave now." I took off all the monitory stuff and got my things and left.

Oh my goodness! The fluttering and the prevarication and the excuses and the cajoling. Please, I had to sign this form (oh, all right), and I had to talk to their supervisor on the phone (no, in fact, I didn't have to), and did I know my insurance wouldn't pay if I left? (So what? I'll pay myself, then.) Most entertaining! :-) I feel about five years younger, just from seeing people so discombobulated!

I'm going to take (yet another) shower to get all their crap out of my hair. And I'm going to have a nice cup of herbal tea and get into bed with a book and sleep just fine. :-) Until my cats wake me up, way too early. :-)

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