"I'm off to Germany to murder an octopus". The text my cousin sent me after the unthinkable happened and the Dutch came 2nd in the World Cup for the 3rd time.
Not gonna lie, I'm pretty devastated. The morning started off so promising. My posse and I (what? You don't have a posse? You should get a posse) were the first in the bar, decked out proudly in orange. The drinks started flowing (yes it was 9am. What?) and we settled in for what was going to be the best day in my country's history.In the middle of the game I even got a message from a friend that studied in Amsterdam with me (who I hadn't talked to in a really, really long time), cheering on the Dutch and I thought it had to be a sign that we were going to win it all.
There was the matter of the questionable reffing, the diving and in the end, the Dutch made the most costly mistake. Right at the very end of extra time. I can't really say any more about the game- I don't remember most of it now. Its all a fantastically orange blur. My one nail was chewed to pieces by the end of it. Stressful doesn't even begin to describe the experience.
So now I'm sitting in my Cubicle prison extra early on a Monday morning waiting for all the Spaniards in my office to rub it in.
Wait? What? I don't work with any Spaniards? Weird then how they will all have "won" the World Cup. How they will all feel the pride of a nation, at the expense of my own.
Except that honestly, I'm still fiercely proud. Proud of my team, who got us closer to winning it all than any other in 32 years. Proud of my country who swathed themselves in orange and celebrated every win like it was the big one. Proud that we're still better than pretty much everyone else.
I've gotten a lot of sh*t from the Italians that I know. I get it, you're 4 time World Champions. Congratulations. You're also extra douchey about it and the rest of the world always collectively hope you fail. At least non-Dutch folks wore the one orange shirt they had in their closet and hoped for a big win. A friend of mine that I watched the game with (and actually we watch a lot of big games with these 2 friends and have yet to witness a big win together...so...I think our big game watching days are over) said that I had found my Italy. Yes he was wearing a France jersey yesterday. Remembering better days.
So the Dutch may have lost but at least the Italians didn't win it.
Monday Monday Monday. How the hell did we get here again so fast? Should be a quick week. Today is an adjusted schedule, have to get through the middle of the week, a chance to get my new apartment's keys on Wednesday, but probably it will happen on Thursday. And then I will have a big steak dinner to celebrate before I have Friday off (to sleep of said steak). By the end of this week I will be able to go into my new apartment whenever I want! Mostly we will be painting it though. My arms are going to be so sore!
Good thing I have something to look forward to this week. Or else the Spanish bandwagoners would probably have their throats slashed. Too violent an imagery on a Monday? I would beg to differ. I don't think that its violent enough. Its a Monday you guys. Mon. Day.
I think I'm going to cut it off there. My pride has exhausted me. It might still be tinged with some sadness. Here's hoping the day goes by mercifully quickly.