have a dad or support man united

this is a good story...

i must say i would do the same to my kid's..

IF THEY ASK ME

"DAD??? I WANT TO SUPPORT MAN UNITED!"

story below...

"Dad? I want to support Man United."

Mid-September 2010. After finishing 7^th last season, I’m struggling to convince my two boys that Liverpool are the greatest club in the world. And now, under Hodgson’s guidance and the increasingly worrying Hicks/Gillett ownership, my job is getting more difficult. I arrive home from work one day, and my 9-year-old approaches me sheepishly.

“Dad? I don’t want to support Liverpool anymore. I want to support Man United.” Six words that any LFC-supporting father dreads.

“Me too!” chips in my 7-year-old, helpfully.

“Why?” I reply calmly, struggling to hide the panic and anger bubbling up inside.

“Everyone at school supports Man United, and I don’t want to be the odd-one-out.” It’s true. We live in Surrey, a few miles from Chelsea’s training ground, and about 15 miles from Stamford Bridge. Chelsea run the local soccer schools. And yet the kids support United.

Unfortunately, my anger gets the better of me. “Well, you have a simple choice to make boys. Either you can support Man United, or you can have a Dad.” This sends them running to Mum, and you can imagine the trouble I’m in.

Once calm returns to the house, chastised, I try a different approach. “Well you can’t support Man United can you boys? Remember the first rule of football: You can only support the team your Dad supports, or your local team.” I’d taken them to see Reading when they were in the Premier League, including the time they beat Liverpool. But they got bored when I took them to Championship games, and they’d lost interest. “It’s got to be Liverpool or Reading.”

“Reading? They’re rubbish”, declares my youngest.

“Well it’s got to be Liverpool then”, I say, in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

“Reading aren’t our only local team you know”, offers my eldest kindly. Unfortunately geography is one of his stronger subjects. “If I can’t support Man United, I want to support Chelsea.”

“Fulham are closer”, I reply confidently, not sure if it’s true.

“Fulham? They’re rubbish”, declares my youngest, again.

I’m really panicking now. “OK, you can support Liverpool and either Arsenal or Tottenham for a bit, until Liverpool improve. They both play good football and are both only a bit further away than Chelsea.”

“I’m going to support Liverpool, Man United, Chelsea, Arsenal and Tottenham” declares my youngest.

“Then you’ll have a very successful season”, I mutter.

“I’ll do you a deal”, offers my eldest. Always doing deals. “I’ll support Liverpool and Man United until the end of the season, and then decide.”

With Liverpool still in the picture for both of them, I decide to leave it there for the time-being. Let them go on a journey of discovery - plenty of time to steer them back onto the righteous path before the end of the season. “Deal”, I agree.

“But…” continues my eldest, “if Liverpool drop into the relegation zone, I’m supporting Man United”.

“Relegation zone?!” I laugh. Never in my lifetime. Never. “Alright boys, no problem. You don’t have to support Liverpool if we drop into the relegation zone.”

3^rd October 2010. Home to Blackpool, absolute banker – home win, 99 times out of 100. Even a draw will keep us out of the relegation zone, so absolutely no worries at all.

Of course you know what happens. Total humiliation. The most humiliating defeat at Anfield since…. well, since Northampton won there 11 days earlier. My boys see the result, and I pray they won’t see the table.

“Dad, Dad, Liverpool are in the relegation zone! You said we don’t have to support them if they’re in the relegation zone! Yeessss!!!”

We don’t play again for two weeks, and they’re two of the worst weeks of my life. On top of everything else, Liverpool face administration and probable relegation if they can’t sell the club. I seriously wonder if the club I’ve loved for my whole life is dying before me.

The week of 11^th to 15^th October I can’t sleep properly or focus on work. I sit at my desk clicking the refresh button on the live news feeds a hundred times a day. Finally on 15^thOctober, just an hour or two before the deadline, the LFC board burst out of the High Court declaring victory. The club can be sold to NESV. I should feel euphoric, but I’m broken, exhausted, and slump on my desk, numb with relief.

Confident that Liverpool will climb back up the table, I explain to my boys how Liverpool will now be great again, and sit back and wait for the victories to roll in. But of course, they don’t. Week after week I pray for Liverpool victories, while at the same time a shameful part of me hopes we lose so that Hodgson will be sacked.

For the first time I wonder if I’m being cruel, insisting my boys support Liverpool. Then I bump into a mate who has his son dressed in a Brentford shirt. Immediately, I know that encouraging them to support Liverpool is one of the greatest gifts I can ever give to them. I just need to bide my time.

In mid-December we lose to Newcastle, and I tell my boys that Hodgson will be sacked the next day. Then we lose to Wolves at Anfield, and I tell my boys that Hodgson will definitely, definitely, be sacked the next day. They find my pain hilarious. Then on 5^thJanuary we lose to Blackburn, and finally the axe falls.

8^th January 2011. Liverpool announce that King Kenny will return as manager until the end of the season. Now, I’ve loved Kenny my whole life. Two years ago, in an interview for a business magazine, I told them Kenny Dalglish was my inspiration, because no-one has achieved so much as both a team player and a Manager. But I have my reservations. If he can still do it, why has he been out of management for so long? Anyway, I can’t let my boys know my concerns. This is too good a chance to miss.

“Kenny Dalglish? He is such an old man”, offers my eldest generously.

“Right”, I said. “Both of you wait there.”

I went upstairs and fetched Kenny’s autobiography and my LFC history books. “Right. Guess how many league titles Kenny has won.” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Nine. Nine league titles. And, and three European Cups.” They sat there with their mouths open, catching flies.

Finally my eldest spoke. “Yeah, he was a good player but that doesn’t make him a good manager, does it?”

I smiled. “Well, he was Liverpool manager for five years. In his first season, he won the league title and the FA Cup. Not only that, but he also played 29 games that season, and scored the winning goal at Chelsea to win the title on the final day of the season.”

“What? You can’t be a player and a Manager at the same time.”

“Kenny could. And in those five years, he won the title three times. Then he went to Blackburn, and won the title for them too. Blackburn! So do you think he’s a good Manager?”

“Yeah! Brilliant.”

The next day, and Kenny’s first match is away at Old Trafford. I fear the worst. My boys cheer when United score just to wind me up, but I can tell they’re not sure who they want to win. Our performance overall is much improved so I feel quietly optimistic about the future.

During the next few weeks, Liverpool gradually improve and we get some victories under our belt. I subliminally try to influence my boys by leaving Liverpool scarves and pennants around the house, and put a picture of Kenny in a frame next to the TV. I leave their Match Attax collection album open at the Liverpool page after they go to bed, and I tell them all the transfer rumours about the players that the new owners may be buying for us. They increasingly play as Liverpool on PES, and beg to stay up to watch the first-half of our televised evening games.

Then at the end of January a set-back. They love Gerrard and Torres, and all of a sudden it seems Torres may be going to Chelsea. I quickly go into damage limitation mode, reminding them how bad Torres has been for a year or more. He goes, and I quietly remove their posters of him while they are out. I show them a video of new-signing Luis Suarez on YouTube, and they watch Carra stop Torres getting anywhere near our goal as Liverpool thrillingly beat Chelsea. Torres is forgotten, and Liverpool’s good form continues.

6^th March 2011. Liverpool versus United, and a true test of their loyalties. They join me on the sofa at kick-off, each with a Liverpool scarf draped around their neck. I’m happy but nervous. Are we good enough yet to beat United? As the game progresses, my nerves ease. We’re playing well. Then, with his back to goal, Suarez takes his first giant step to becoming a Liverpool Legend. He suddenly spins between two defenders, beats a third, and rolls the ball under the on-rushing keeper. Kuyt taps it in, and me and my boys go wild. Before half-time it’s 2-0, and we’re all delighted. Half way through the second half, and a fantastic Suarez free-kick is parried into the path of Kuyt, who hammers it into the net. The boys leap on me and I find myself twirling around the living room, one of them held high in each arm, their arms raised, fingertips touching the ceiling.

“Kuyt’s got a hat-trick, Kuyt’s got a hat-trick – against Man United!” they scream in delight, and I know our journey is complete. For the first time in months I can hold my head up high and walk on, with hope in my heart.

Support United, or have a Dad? Boys, You’ll NEVER Walk Alone.

so kids!!!

have a dad or support man united??

YNWA!!

-Aaron-

another awesome letter

i must say if your not a fan of californication show..

your missing allot! or your just lame.....

the quote on this show is awesome!

but i must say this is another winner!

if your a drunker and absolutefucked-up.

and

thinking of killing yourself and you have a child on your hands do write a nice letter for them.

thats the most you can do..

heres a good one from californication.

To my dear beautiful daughter: I'm writing you a letter.

That's right, a good old-fashioned letter. It's a lost art really, like handjobs--shit (crosses out "handjobs" on the typewriter).

I have a confession to make: I didn't like you very much at first. You were just this annoying little blob. You smelled nice, most of the time, but you didn't seem to have much interest in me, which I of course found vaguely insulting. It was just you and your mom against the world. Funny how some things never change. So I cruised along doing my thing, acting the fool, not really understanding how being a parent changes you. And I don't remember the exact moment everything changed, I just know that it did.

One minute I was impenetrable, nothing could touch me. The next my heart was somehow beating outside my chest, exposed to the elements. Loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experience of my life. In fact it's been almost too much to bear. As your father I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realizing I was the one who would end up hurting you the most.

When I flash-forward my heart breaks, mostly because I can't imagine you speaking of me with any sort of pride. How could you? Your father is a child in a man's body. He cares for nothing and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in action. Something has to change, something has to give. It's getting dark, too dark to see

youtube it :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEqFFLNdVuE

hahahahahah!!

i think thats F-king awesome!

-Aaron-

Ode to the Nice Guys

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn't last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

i know i pose this before but i just like it..

all thanks to Wharton Undergraduate Journal..

cheerss to us fuckers..

keep it up..

-Aaron-

bill hicks- ride at an amusement park

The world is like a ride at an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think that it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills, and it's very brightly coloured, and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question - is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us. They say 'Hey! Don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride.' And we...kill those people. Ha ha ha. 'Shut him up! We have a lot invested in this ride. SHUT HIM UP! Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account and family. This just has to be real.' It's just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok. But it doesn't matter because: it's just a ride. And we can change it anytime we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings, and money. A choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourselves off. The eyes of love, instead, see all of us as one. Here's what you can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money that we spend on weapons and defence each year, and instead spend it feeding, clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, for ever, in peace.

hey who can argue with that?

-Aaron-

elo!!

hey hey

its been bloody well long iv not been putting any pose here..

well life is a busy bee maybe i just might as well close this blog?

where do i start?

drinking?

well drinking been a really slow mode this few month's due too NON OF UR BUSINESS!

"its the best Iban party i ever had"

life?

life's been awesome..

nothing much I'm still working on it.. don't we all?

where do i start xmas?

xmas was awesome even doe i dint get what i ask for on xmas..

but it was a good time with family and crazy cousin.

"it wont get any fun then this"

so its 2011? huh?

what did i do on new year eve 2011?

new friends i made and new family iv had..it was all fun at the back stage (the Junk)

"lucky? nahhh im their daddy"

"new family <3"

then there was Chinese new year..

the usual.

cooking,cooking,cooking and more cooking it was a busy CNY for me..

and a late night boozing.

nothing much to say but Family..

and there's valentines day...

well my wing-lady is far away for now..

but that did not stop me from getting her roses?

there's a saying

" THE THINGS YOU'LL DO FOR A PERSON YOU LOVE"

so i did.. so far yet still she got the roses..

"12 roses BE MY STEADY!"

so I'm back to the land of studies after that long holiday..

i must say its not fun or fair for the brain after that long holiday to be hitting the books straight..

but that's a choice i must not argue with..

its the final war for me... make it or die trying...

and i shall return home with my head up..

in 3 months time ill be entering a new world.

the world of the working people..

where holiday is what ull be waiting for...

and money is what you will be trying to make everyday...

but most of all!

I WANT TO GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS PLACE!

25 years old in the making soon..

this is no joke!!

time's UP boy!

time to make some serious money!

for now eat the books sit for that final exams and be done with it!

be a project manager and make the money roll..

-Aaron-