Why is it suddenly so easy to score? ... This is just -- this is just wow! I mean, it's like putting on this shirt has caused my Barca DNA and the Qatar magic to synthesize and make me a goal-scoring monster of unbridled awesomeness. ... I feel like a new person. ... It's amazing how much better life is when you're not constantly walking in on your manager crying in his darkened office while depressing WWII era French music plays in the background. ... The only downside to scoring all the time is that Xavi's celebratory hugs are getting longer. Like, a little too long. And while I'm showering...
SOMETHING HAS GONE WRONG
Alright, new team -- gotta learn the names of these jokers. ... There's, uh, there's Caeser. The goalkeeper. Caeser Salad. ... There's Lucifer, the, uh, the defender. ... There's Dijon, uh, Dijon Stinky. ... Then, of course, there's Wesley Scheider -- the son of the guy from Jaws. ... Then there' Toro Karate. That guy sounds dangerous. Gotta watch out for him. ... Then the rest I'll just call "Andre" and they'll just have to deal with that...
Time for the disgraces. ... First, we actually won a penalty shootout. That is not a f***ing disgrace! ... Then, I couldn't take part in it because that Norwich goalkeeper knocked my chin bone into my frontal lobe. That's a memory-erasing f***ing disgrace. ... Then, before I met with the prime minister of the Ivory Coast, Kalou asked me if I could request that he declare a national holiday called "Salomon Kalou smells like bacon and flowers day." That's a factually incorrect f***ing disgrace. ... Then, I got the hiccups and they lasted four hours. That was an annoying f***ing disgrace. ... Then there were those times those referees who probably eat soup off a plate in other people's beds cheated us out of the Champions League. That...that was a...
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