HERE'S ONE GOOD REASON WE SHOULD BE HAPPY THAT SLOVAKIA'S STILL IN THIS THING

[Although it sucks that NZ didn't make it through. They were just so precious.]

Two words: Jan. Durica.

Wait, do names qualify as words? Would a name be one word? Whatevs, the grammar nazi within you has got to be distracted. Congrats, Slovakia: hotness like that doesn't let you down.

WORLDS OF FOOTBALL AND, ER, FOOTBALL COLLIDE AS REGGIE BUSH AND JOZY SHARE SOME BRO-LOVING

[Recently Kardashianless! All hands on deck, girls.]

Oh, I do love a good excuse to post photos of Reggie Bush. I'm guessing this one's probably as good as it's going to get around here. Reggie twittered this shot amidst the post-Algeria part-ay-ing.

source: @reggie_bush via omg yanks

BRINGING THE LOLS: ITALY, YOU SO CRAZY

[See you later, Canna's thighs.]

And with that, Italy help the World Cup achieve a new point in history: this is the first tournament in which neither finalist of the previous one has made it out of the group stage. Who knew that when, full-time diving cheat and part-time Italy midfielder, Daniele De Rossi warned that Italy could go out like France, he was actually looking into his crystal ball rather than making a pathetic attempt to manage expectations? Somewhere Zidane is laughing his little head off.

VIDEO: JOHN TERRY IS A GREAT PERSON, FEARLESS, ETC.

Diving header. Meh. Why is it that people are always running to credit John Terry with all sorts of things? Passion, drive, and the ominous 'world class'? (I've heard that last one so much that I'm not sure what exactly it's supposed to mean. You play for Chelsea. Be world class. All the time. Simple as.)

From the Daily Star:

"The Chelsea defender said he was “born to lead”. And do you know what? He was spot on. Terry played this game like his life depended on it. He was everything his manager needed him to be – fearless, inspirational, simply brilliant."

The worst are those suggesting he be reinstated as captain. He was stripped of the captaincy, people. STRIPPED. And not even for being a crap defender or moronically speaking out against the manager at a time when the team needed unity more than anything else, like he conveniently did last week. No, Terry was dismissed for generally being a dirty scoundrel and a sh*t friend which has to say more about his character than any of the stereotypical english-hardman tripe the press are now selling.

How we're supposed to feel about John Terry is confusing. He's like that friend or acquaintance we've all got who's constantly making catty comments about your clothes or hair and then apologizes 'if your feelings were hurt'. She gives the most complete bail-out apologies that only leave you feeling unqualified in your anger. I get to be annoyed by you, damn it. Let me have that, at least. JT's got a knack for acting like a complete gentlemen, making the blinding off the line clearance (flashback to Trinidad and Tobago at the '06 World Cup) that sticks in your head for ages until, of course, he spits in someone's face during a Champions League final and hounds and screams at referees on the pitch. The moment you start liking him he does or says something so pompous and prick-like that you've got no choice but to go back to hating him again.

YANKS: LANDYCAKES, A REGULAR AMERICAN HERO

The Yank bandwagon has never looked so tempting. The whole thing almost makes me forget how annoying I actually find Landycakes. This is officially going down as a point in the 'good' column.

TIET TMI du Jour: In usual wandering-eye fashion, please play special attention to :25 of this clip where Jay DeMerit does a back-flip onto the man pile. Seriously? I'm amazed there aren't more injured that result from goal celebrations.

Also, this sign is kind of awesome. Predictable, but awesome.

ONE FOR THE VAULT: ARGENTINA VS GREECE, A GRIPPING MATCH INDEED

Well, geez man, it's not a freaking handle bar.

WHEREIN MY ATTEMPT TO AVOID WITNESSING THE FINAL BIT OF FRANCE RIDUCULOSITY ENDS IN COMPLETE AND ABJECT FAILURE

[Look at that little half-grin he's got on.

That, my friends, is a face begging to be punched.]

Due to life incessantly getting in the way of dedicating my entire existence to the World Cup (funny how that happens), I've not been able to watch the whole France/South Africa match yet. I wasn't so lucky, however, to fully escape the final act of the Shakespearean play France is putting on over in South Africa. As the highlights were being inflicted on a half-empty bar patio midway through my morning, I happened to be passing by. Wrong place, wrong time. The mental effort that was gathered to coax myself into avoiding having my day spoiled by sitting down to watch France's formality of a final group match today was expansive. I'd resolved to wait to watch the match when I got home tonight where I could sulk, groan and shout at my television undisturbed. Sometimes you just need those ninety minutes to yourself; to exorcise your angry-and-disappointed-supporter demons away from the view of, er, normal people.

But here's the main thing to understand about actively trying not to watch your side play at any point during the world cup: it's viscerally impossible. The patio's television screens seemed to pop up out of no where and they flickered brightly with the impending doom of it all. They were irresistible. While the commentators were setting up the first clip of the highlight reel, the loudest thought on loop over and over in my head was 'WALK AWAY! WALK AWAY NOW!' It was like a car accident and I was that annoying jerk that cranes her head out the window to slow down and scope out the full extent of the crash -- truly awful.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm off for another evening of piecing together any semblance of motivation to truly give a sh*t about the rest of this tournament**. Yes, and to actually watch the rest of the South Africa game.

**Oh, I get to be a bit dramatic today okay? Relax Spain, I'll still be around to root on your eventual collapse. I'm devoted to the cause.

SARA CARBONERO STILL SHOWING UP FOR WORK, RUINING EVERYTHING

[Sara Carbonero may look like she's just doing her job and interviewing Spain's manager

after their match against Honduras, but really she's just distracting him from doing his damn job.]

There's Iker Casillas' girlfriend again, ruining everything. Stop letting her into the stadium, morons! Oh, Spain won? Two-nil, you say? Right then... haters, please proceed promptly to the left.

DROGBAGANDA: DIDIER ENDS AIDS ON HIS WAY TO SAVING CATS FROM TREES AND BECOMING PRESIDENT OF THE WORLD

[Didi's accent. Sigh. Hold me.]

Admit it, for a moment you totally thought that this video was awesome. But I can't be only one that thinks that this is taking the whole writing the future thing too far. And yet, even while while thinking that, I still can't get over the rather romantic thought of a footballer like Drogba ending AIDS in Africa.

via ONTD_FB

ONE FOR THE VAULT: THERE IS NO WAY THAT THIS DID NOT DISTRACT XTINA FOR AT LEAST A MOMENT

[Please note the girl in the background who looks completely unimpressed with these two. Girl, I feel you -- my Portu-zilian**

neighbours are effing obnoxious.]

And just to preempt the morons who are likely to pipe up with the expected 'SEE?! GIRLS WHO LIKE SOCCER ARE STUPID! SHE ONLY LIKES RONALDO BECAUSE HE'S HOT!!11'. Please shut up. Sure, the sign's a bit rude but that's all it is: a bit rude. Besides, no one ever put rules around how dudes can express their love for their favourite side. You know, except for that pesky 'don't physically harm one another' thing which folks are constantly having trouble getting right.

via Pies

**TIET TMI du jour: Portu-zilians are t

urncoat Portuguese fans who support Portugal in what appears to be an extremely die-hard fashion until the the moment they are inevitably knocked out. At this point, they'll very promptly jump onto the rather crowded Brazil bandwagon. A Toronto phenomenon.

FRANCE: WHAT THE... I DON'T EVEN...

[Evra spotted here being the world's sh**est

captain/getting a bit scrappy with the trainer.]

Lesson learned: In regards to France, never ever delude yourself into thinking that it can't get any worse. It can. They're boycotting practices (they refused to train on Sunday, but have now resumed today apparently), Evra missed a press conference today and sponsors don't even what their logos on France's training kit anymore. There's actually talk that the captaincy might have been yanked from Patrice Evra. All that's missing from this teen soap opera is Chuck Bass. I'm half-expecting him to make an appearance at this point: scotch in one hand, neck scarf at the ready.

I AM UP IN THIS BLOG FOR NO APPARENT REASON: DANISH DISTRACTION, NICKLAS BENDTNER

[For now though, I'll settle for some Bendtner prettiness. Small consolation. Also, well done to Nick for managing to find the target against Cameroon. You were like a floating idiot beanpole at Arsenal this season. Glad you could get it together for someone, girl.]

Perusing a vast array of articles telling me how ridiculous Anelka is and why I should feel sorry for Gourcuff, a man who is both very rich and very hot, is not a good way to end an evening. It's painful and insomnia inducing. In fact, as a result, I'm contemplating growing some emo bangs to fully express my pain... and inflict it on others. Seriously though, have you met anyone with emo bangs? It's slightly disconcerting to say the least. There was a barrista at a Starbucks I used to frequent who had these extremely long side swept ones with blonde bits in it. I used to literally hold my breath whenever he made my drinks because I was convinced there was going to be some accidental bang-dunking action occur. Skinny-Vanilla-Latte-a-la greasy-hair, if you will. He caught me peering over the little counter thing with this intensely petrified look on my face once. The smug bastard looked sort of pleased with himself. I bet goths and emo kids are France supporters.

[They all look just about ready for their emo-bangs too.

Les Bleus = Les Sulk. Let's not pin it all on Anelka.]

GERMANS ARE HILARIOUS: MESUT OZIL, RAP SUPERSTAR

[the fun starts around 2:30.]

I just felt a tidal wave of second hand embarrassment come over me. When it comes to annoying World Cup promotional tools, England keep it simple with lousy world cup anthems while Germany diversify with rapping, painting themselves to look like weird animals, and just generally being bizarre. It's like a grab bag of cringe-worthy delight! And, worst/best of all, it's all done so incredibly earnestly: 'Let's paint Mesut up like a cheetah, it'll be really, really inspiring!' How are we ever meant to take them seriously?

via Werder Bremen - Offside

GERMANS ARE HILARIOUS: ANGRY KEEPER EDITION

[Oh Jens, you gorgeous man, how we've missed your insanity.]

TIET mainstay and the initial reason for the birth of the great angry keeper thread, ex-Germany number 1, Jens Lehmann, is over in South Africa doing commentating work for German television. And so is his arch-nemesis Oliver Kahn. I don't speak German but this whole video looks like a trifecta of awkward: Lehmann and his ex-manager, Oliver having to talk about Jens without swearing, Oliver just in general. Love it.

BLATANT AND UNABASHED FANBOY OBJECTIFICATION: GIRL, THERE'S A REASON ALL THOSE DUDES IN 300 WERE HOT

[BRB, going to Greece. The middle one looks like Zlatan.]

But no one in 300 was actually Greek, right? You know, a quick IMDB search would probably clear the confusion right up but I make it a rather strict point around here to keep posts as, er, impromptu as possible. Lame lazy and crass jokes come best to me in the heat of the moment. These photos come to you from yesterday's Greece/Nigeria match.

source: sportsnet.ca, the guardian

DELUSION + GQ OUTTAKES

[Didier, spotted here doing his best Edward Cullen impression. Sexy/genuinely frightening. Speaking of Cote d'Ivoire, they've

easily got one of the best shirts at the

World Cup, no?

The tight fit = superb.

]

Still not quite ready to pick up the pieces from what happened yesterday at France v Mexico. Instead, I'm choosing to sit among the carnage in slight delusion -- going through the five phases and such. This is not to say that their tired, stroll-around-the-park, 2-goals-down-and-it's-hopeless, showing last night and hapless eventual loss to the Mexicans was a shock -- quite the opposite -- I'm just going to take the day to digest it. And by 'digest', I mean plot ways to to seriously harm Raymond Domenech.

Moving along to what will likely be the most joyful part of my morning, here are some outtakes from GQ's cover shoot. Didier can be quite dapper when he wants to be can't he?







GQ via ONTD_football.

WHEREIN IN A USELESS ATTEMPT TO REMIND MYSELF WHY I EVEN LIKE FRANCE, I AM REDUCED TO A GIRLY, NOSTALGIC MESS

[Ah, 1998. You've got to know it's gotten particularly bad when you find yourself

awake at 2am watching an endless stream of 98 World Cup clips. You know it's

gotten WORSE when you catch yourself looking fondly at Petit's ponytail, thinking

irrationally nostalgic tripe like 'they don't make pony-tailed footballers like that anymore...*sigh*']

France play their second group match this afternoon against Mexico and I'm dreading it. It feels like I've got an appointment with the dentist or something: I know I've got to go, and I will, but I don't particularly want to. Please just let them score a goal, or at the very least manage not rip each other to shreds, even as the likelihood of the latter happening is becoming more and more of a real possibility with each sh**y infighting rumour that pops up. 'I weel not pass to eem!'. Behave like grown men, please.

Figure that I, and those who find themselves in a similar predicament today, might need some reminding why we even like this side.

[Henry: It's hard isn't it, baby? I know everyone hates you right now -- with good reason, unfortunately. Handball mentions made by commentators can practically be reduced to a drinking game at this point... one that would get drinkers pretty damned sloshed, mind.]

[Zidane: A little angry with you. You made some unhelpful and truly cuntalicious comments about France's opening match. Yes, I know they were true but still, why now and why on national television? And you didn't even come to watch them play... you went to watch Algeria instead. I could headbutt you right now given the chance.]

[Vieira: Nothing but love. Come back.]

[Barthez: Oh, you baldy nutball. You did spoil us with your brand of

awesomely outlandish behaviour, didn't you?]

[Petit: The hair. The hair! For better or worse, the beginning of my

(not so)mini-obsession with footballers' hairstyles.]

LULZ, CASILLAS. SPAIN LOSE, NOW WHAT?

[WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGG??!!!!! Is it bad that I'm laughing?

Yeah, it's bad that I'm laughing.]

Not feet first, Iker! Oh, calamity! You're never, NEVER, supposed to slide in feet first. Admittedly, Gelson's goal was the most unlikely of complete scrap-heaps. I think Pique actually got kicked in the head at some point during the tangle -- he emerged from the mess a bit bloodied. Complete credit goes to the Swiss for keeping such a well oiled defense, although I did feel the heart drop a bit for a moment when Senderos came off injured. So, now that Spain has dropped three points in their World Cup opener, to Switzerland no less, can we safely say that group H is shot to hell?

Here's an interesting nugget from the match: Iker's girlfriend, Sara Carbonero was there 'reporting' from the sidelines. Let's not get the blame game going too much though, eh?

TIET TMI du Jour: In other much more important news, it appears that my attempts to channel my disdain for the Spanish side (sophisticated reasons boiling down to: stop winning and being good! admittedly, the hate has decreased since Euro -- Torres' haircut has gained him some brownie points) into a psychokinetic energy so strong that it causes them to lose all their matches actually appears to be working. Huzzah!

VUVUZELAS, COMING SOON TO A CLUB NEAR YOU!

I'm not anti- fog horn vuvuzela as such, but the idea of having these trumpety things carry on past the world cup and possibly become a supporter mainstay frightens me slightly. Anything seems to go as far as supporters on the international level are concerned (please attempt to recall the last time you saw a man at your local club's ground painted head to toe in team colours, wearing a massive wig?) which is probably why I tend not to object too much to the heedless racket. It seems to fit in with the general zaniness of the international fan. But do I need the vuvuzela phzzzzzzeeeeeeeee-ing at an Arsenal match? No. Just no, okay?

From ESPNsoccernet:

"The Premier League could be set for an influx of vuvuzelas after the World Cup, as a Premier League spokesman said there was nothing in its rules that would stop supporters taking them into grounds."

Step 1: Find the rule book.
Step 2: Change it.

More:

"One bookmaker is already taking bets on which Premier League club would be the first to sell vuvuzelas in their team's colours. Vuvuzelas have already been on sale at several clubs, with Sheffield Wednesday being the first to sell them in club colours in their club shop last August after they appeared at the Confederations Cup."

source: Vuvuzelas may come to Premier League

THIS IS NOT CREEPY AT ALL: REFEREES IN, ER, CONVENIENT POSITIONS

[I mean, if you've got your camera set up by the

sidelines already... why not? No harm done, right?]

If one is truly committed to ogling in a football context, then one ought to take an equal opportunity approach. It really is the only way. There's no reason refs need to be left out of the perving. This borderline creepy photographic moment comes to us from yesterday's Denmark/Holland match. The obvious question to be asked here is of course what business a professional photographer has taking pictures of a ref's behind. 'Oops, my finger accidentally fell on this button as you were stretching with your ass facing me?' isn't exactly a great reason. Er, never mind, scratch that... it is a great reason. Give this person a medal!

TIET TMI du Jour: Speaking of hot referees. Two words: Roberto. Rosetti.

source: the Telegraph

YANKS: LOOK SLIGHTLY GREASY, MAY NEED HELP SHOWERING, I'M READY AND WILLING TO TAKE ON THIS INSANELY LABORIOUS TASK

[His Royal Hotness. No one really compares when it comes

to stupid-hot American footballing talent.]

This is not a dedicated US Soccer blog. Promise, pinky swear, etc. It's just been pretending to be one lately... a little. A wannabe, so to speak. Hell, if they're going to come out with stuff like this, can you fault a girl?

Anyhow, here's an interesting quote from Carlos Bocanegra's portion of this spread that Interview magazine did with the boys: "Stuart Holden is always talking. He doesn’t shut the hell up, ever. Always talking shit. Just talking to talk." Aw, Stu. Can't you just imagine him scurrying around the locker room talking really fast and just generally being so obnoxious that you'd want to punch him square in the face but couldn't because you knew it would feel strangely like child abuse because he looks like a freaking fourteen year old?

source: Interview Magazine via the zany yet fantasitcal ladies at ONTD_FB

VIDEO: YOU COULD HAVE TURNED OFF YOUR PHONE

I actually thought he would answer it for a minute there. Adebayor is just generally that much of an idiot.

via 101 Great Goals

BRINGING THE LOLS: ROBERT GREEN

Robert, you in danger girl. Becks looks like he's thinking of a few different ways to kill you.

VIDEO: FYI, YOU MISSED THIS EPISODE OF MEERKAT MANOR

A zoo somewhere in middle America has come up with this in anticipation of the the Game of the Century!1!!: USA vs. England, scientifically confirming that a meerkat would have indeed been a better call-up than Heskey. Scientifically as in... well, at least these meerkats are cute and fluffy, okay? What's Heskey got these days? Missed shots and a black patch on his record for ruining Rio's World Cup.

TIET TMI du Jour: Meerkat Manor = only the most fantastical show featuring meerkats in existence. Or, er, the only one.

via Off the Post

YANKS: THE GAME OF THE CENTRURY!1!!!!

[USA v England, for real.]

Here's some free advice: don't try to avoid the nuisance that is the monstrous hype surrounding the really-not-game-of-the-century that is the Game of the Century111!!!!: USA v England tomorrow. Just don't. Firstly, avoiding it is actually hopeless. Secondly, there's a slight chance you could roll your eyes so much they'll fall out of their sockets ('sup France supporters). Thirdly, there is so much hilarity to be found here that if you don't pay attention you could really miss out**. Such as Baby Bradley referring to the Americans as 'battle hardened' (seriously though: we'll be genuinely disappointed now if he doesn't dropkick England's keeper King Leonidas out of '300' style whilst screaming 'This is Sparta!' as a part of some elaborate goal celebration on Saturday.)

Or even better, the USA NT's official website which, as usual, has been the site that doesn't stop giving when it comes to borderline homoerotic/often unintentionally hilarious material. Aside from the irony of the most built up match in the group stage being reduced to a foosball game in this here official clip, the real fun starts around 2:30. Holden: 'You gotta play with yourselves. If you score with yourself or a player on the national team, two goals. If you do Gooch and score on him, that's two goals also. [...] Give it to Gooch!' Oh god, never stop being you, Stu.

**'Don't pay attention'. Oh, would you listen to us. Talking as if you were stranded out in the middle of the Indian Ocean during monsoon season, that the USA v England hype wouldn't come and find you.

GERMANS ARE HILARIOUS: A CATS TRIBUTE

[Ozil pictured here prior to belting out a rousing rendition of 'Memory'.]

So, this was a stupid idea. Is this some kind of Cats tribute gone wrong or something? Because if this is in fact what it appears to be -- some kind of tribute to Africa or Africans -- and they thought painting themselves in body paint to look like wild exotic animals was the best way forward, someone in the German NT PR camp is in desperate need of a political correctness consultant. More photos at the source.

source: Bild via ONTD Football