Maybe it was bad juju from the upcoming Friday the 13th holiday, but the German National Team couldn't pull off a victory against Croatia. The throaty Croats snatched a 2:1 victory from the almost comatose Germans.
The team has been dealing with the grief in their own ways. J bought an AK-47 from a Russian gypsy at the Farmer's Market and started randomly shooting birds. Mama and Babycakes have been stomping on scorpions with a level of joy unseen since the days chocolate milk was plentiful in our refrigerator.
How is Ol' Dad dealing with the loss you ask? Well, I've been doing what I usually do in such circumstances... writing spoken word pieces and submitting them for publication in the Index Librorum Prohibitorum, staring into a freshly emptied wine glass and smacking Mama in places I'm not supposed to blog about ;)
It will just take time...
A ball in the rough.
In what first appeared to be a lucky break for the Germans, Croatian players spontaneously combusted at seemingly random intervals.
Up in smoke seemed to be the Croatian motto...
The tide quickly turned, however, as Lehmann decided to practice for his upcoming mime skills test in Bangladesh. As a result, the Croatians scored the initial goal.
The Croatians were ecstatic at their good fortune, so much so that they forgot they weren't wearing underwear. The poor lady in this photo suffered retinal damage from her inadvertent glance down south.
"Yup... you're right. That ball is definitely moving away from us!"
The second Croatian goal, otherwise known as the Harbinger of Death and Destruction.
Ballack, mistakenly believing he was Irish for a moment, whipped down a Guinness after the Croation goal and shouted, "Croatia... me bollocks!"
Kurányi, disgusted with the lackluster participation level of his teammates, played pocket soccer on the sidelines until being ushered into to the game by Jogi.
Increasingly infuriated by the match, J consoled herself with an art shot.
Schweinsteiger exercised the restraint and sound judgment for which he is famous by pummeling one of the Croatian players. His good intentions were rewarded with a one match suspension.
The Germans, on the other hand, walked serenely from the field, safe in the knowledge that Jogi would be kicking their ass on a routine basis over the weekend.
After the crushing defeat, we headed upstairs for an evening with T and J-Box. J couldn't quite shake it off though, and preferred to drown her sorrows with chocolate milk and a pint of Häagen-Dazs.
And then depression set in...
C shared in J's despondency ;)
The sunset that evening made up for the crappy day... sorta.
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