You shouldn't let me watch football...

The sun is shining and the grass is green... 

My boyfriend is at work and I have a million words to write for university and I would much rather sit here and chew off my own hand, but unfortunately they haven't come up with a degree for that yet.  Though as a race, we cannot be too far off since there is a degree in David Beckam. (I personally hold him in such a light that even giving his name capital letter makes me grind my teeth and look like I'm about to headbutt the screen).  So much for 'thou shalt not worship false idols'.

Anyway on a lighter but still football themed note, I went to the football yesterday.... yes that's right... me at the football.  It was York vs. somewhere that isn't York. I went with one of the men that I look after, for the sake of this we shall call him A.  Anyway A said that I wasn't getting into it properly and that I should be shouting and stuff, but I didn't have a clue what was going on.  I ended up shouting and screaming at the coach of the away team for saying 'fuck' and 'cunt' every 2 seconds.  He looked at me with devil eyes and looked utterly bemused and the whole stadium stared at him and me as I continued shouting... Then I sat back down and A said I was very embarrassing and that he would never take me to the football again.  SUCCESS!!!! NO MORE FOOTBALL!!!!

And so it is that now I am going to have a shower to make myself all squeaky clean... because everyone knows that you cannot do essays unclean... honest?!?