Callejon and Casillas—canteranos represent.

Ricky + Ricky, and that is the ugliest photo of Sami Khedira around (not that he looks good anyway)

Sergio Ramos is totally into bondage. How naught.

Iker and Sergio are totally gorgeous, but Alvaro Arbeloa’s foot totally bombs this photo (I think the appropriate word is “kupal”, haha). Plus check out that smug smile on Xabi’s half-face.

Hasta el final, vamos Real!

Of course, these two characters had to set the tone of the match, with Suarez refusing to shake Evra’s hand—naturally, Evra and practically the entire Manchester population had to make a big deal out of it and further vilify Suarez. If any of these maggots were thinking, why should Suarez be coerced into doing something that’s for show? I mean, if someone accused you of being a racist and helped effect an extended ban, why should you shake his hand when there are obviously no feelings of reconciliation?

On the flipside, if Evra were sincere with his gesture, he should have just accepted the cold shoulder and composed himself with grace—which clearly was missing when he yanked Suarez’s arm as he shook David de Gea’s hand.

(Of course, if you ask me for a PR perspective, it would probably have done Suarez better to just shake the cunt’s hand and let his performance on the pitch do the talking.)

Now let’s move onto the match. The first half was rather tentative, with the most entertaining moment being Evra and Rio Ferdinand bumping each other, resulting to Ferdinand going all upside-down. Liverpool’s defense kept up with a couple of shots on goal by Manchester United. The second half, however, was a different story. It was marked by two easy goals from Wayne Rooney (who looks like he had the hair plugs fixed to resemble a faux-hawk). Liverpool did not show up for a good portion of the second half, with Manchester United gaining more possession and more shots on goal.

Liverpool only began to fight in the last 10 minutes of the match, with Luis Suarez scoring at the 81st minute, to make the final score 2-1. Honestly, it didn’t feel like Liverpool was hungry enough for the match. No one else was there to make an impact.

What was more infuriating was how Evra was celebrating after the match. I wouldn’t say anything further about it, but just that he displayed sheer lack of class. At the end of the day, Suarez is still the bigger man than Evra.

Despite all the crap, you’ll never walk alone, Luis.

ETA: Suarez issues an apology.

Such a studmuffin. Really, he personifies the Madridista Swag.

Real Madrid held on to win 1-0 over Getafe following an early goal from my future ex-boyfriend Sergio Ramos off a Mesut Özil corner. Los Blancos maintain the seven-point cushion they’re enjoying over Barcelona.

And yes, it’s always all too special when The Ramos scores.

P.S. I want my own “Fuck You You Fucking Fuck” shirt as well.

P.P.S. I can never listen to Enya the same way again.

She may have passed away at age 88, but her words will live on. Let me share two of my favorite Wislawa Szymborska poems.

The Joy of Writing

Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?
For a drink of written water from a spring
whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?
Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,
she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.
Silence – this word also rustles across the page
and parts the boughs
that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they’ll never let her get away.

Each drop of ink contains a fair supply
of hunters, equipped with squinting eyes behind their sights,
prepared to swarm the sloping pen at any moment,
surround the doe, and slowly aim their guns.

They forget that what’s here isn’t life.
Other laws, black on white, obtain.
The twinkling of an eye will take as long as I say,
and will, if I wish, divide into tiny eternities,
full of bullets stopped in mid-flight.
Not a thing will ever happen unless I say so.
Without my blessing, not a leaf will fall,
not a blade of grass will bend beneath that little hoof’s full stop.

Is there then a world
where I rule absolutely on fate?
A time I bind with chains of signs?
An existence become endless at my bidding?

The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand.

True Love

True love. Is it normal

is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way – in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn’t this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn’t it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn’t they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends’ sake?
Listen to them laughing – its an insult.
The language they use – deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it’s obviously a plot behind the human race’s back!

It’s hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who’d want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life’s highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn’t populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there’s no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

That said, Bellamy scored against his former team to bring his former team to the finals against his former team. Can’t keep up? Let me just share these celebratory photos:

Once done with the blue side of Manchester, the Reds took on Manchester United for an FA Cup match. And whaddya know? Liverpool did even better by defeating Manchester United 2-1, thanks to goals from Daniel Agger and Dirk Kuyt!

Sure is a fantastic week to be a Liverpool supporter! YNWA!

And because I can, here’s Luis Suarez with his cutie-patootie daughter, Delfina:

***

As for Real Madrid, the Copa del Rey champs bow out to Barcelona, drawing on the vuelta 2-2 (4-3 on aggregate). However, the men in white had a solid 2nd half showing on the vuelta—which should boost their confidence and strengthen them mentally for future Clasicos.

That said, because Barcelona drew with Zaragoza this morning, Real Madrid are now seven points clear on top of the La Liga. And as we all know, Liga > Copa. Hala Madrid!

Yeah, there’s a glimpse of me fangirling in the CF Internacional de Madrid segment of “Madrileños por el Mundo en Filipinas“, right there on the 42nd minute.

Someday, I will teach my daughter and granddaughters how to do fangirling properly. (Or someday marry a Spaniard, whichever should work out. Haha.)

P.S. Gracias Rufo por compartir el link! Eres un crack!