World Cup Infamy

So it's almost time for bleary eyes and impossibly late hours as we try to stay up for the 2 a.m. telecast of the World Cup matches. It's impossibly cliched, but I notice the best matches are screened right about then.

I'm nursing a hangover this morning - the result of 0.6 litres of beer swishing around in a 33 year old brain. We were welcoming some new colleagues into our office last evening. Some chirpy friend (now ex-friend) just called to say hello, and to remind me about the time I got my picture in the paper whilst watching the finals between England and Brazil. Just figures. I can write an entire article for the ST that takes up half a page, and no one reads it, not even my mother. But one leetle photo of me with my mouth hanging open, and I'm still getting calls about it 4 years down the road. Just kills me.

"Yah! No wonder you look familiar!" says my new colleague. "Can you make your eyes bulge out just like in the photo?"