“No, I’m not watching the match.”
2010.07.01
18:26:11 |
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I can’t wait for the World Cup to be over. Here’s why:
1. People think they’re entitled to my table at a pub cos I’m not watching the match. Just this weekend alone, I had four people come up to me in various pubs asking me if I was watching the match. The first two times, I gave them an honest answer and said “no”. To which, I was given a look like I was less deserving of the table that’s nicely plonked right in front of the telly.
Look, with the World Cup happening right now, it’s hard enough to get a table in a pub. This means I do my part to ensure I get a table somewhere by going in early, or waiting my turn like every other person would if the World Cup wasn’t happening. So if you didn’t get a table, well, it sucks to be you then. I really don’t see why I should give up my table and I don’t like feeling pressured into justifying why I should have my seat.
Cos think about it, if there were really people who deserved a seat over others, then I reckon after this whole World Cup is over, it should be totally alright for me to ask people who go to a pub to drink Coke to bugger off from their table. And now, that would be plain rude, no?
2. When the match is on, the conversation’s over.
It has become clear that soccer is so captivating that even people who don’t watch it usually are unable to do anything but stare at the telly with their mouths open. Nobody is able to string sentences together and all I get from my usually very entertaining friends are groans of agony and screams of joy.
3. Suddenly, everyone’s a hugger
This is probably one of the rare times when men are genuinely happy when other men score. In fact, they’re so happy that it has become common practice to involve everyone within the vicinity in a manic group hug. That would be fine if I was equally inebriated and I looked remotely receptive. But if I’ve spent the entire night trying hard not to stare at your sweaty pits, it also means I’ve spent the entire night sitting in fear of the moment when I’m going to get pulled into a group-hug.
So don’t mind me while I turn into the Grinch. No, I'm not watching the match. No, you can't have my table. Do I want to talk? Hell, yes!
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