Who ate so much this past extended weekend that they have chocolate oozing from their pores?
That’s a trick question, since we all know the answer. Especially the elasticated waistbands we’re bringing back for spring/summer 2010.
Not sure about you, Kickettes, but the holiday-weekend-that-was reminded us that too much family time makes us feel as crabby as Marco Borriello looks. Thank goodness for the edge-of-our-seats series of footy matches fighting for our love and attention in equal amounts as a certain great aunt with a moustache.
Since we were recklessly hungover on Monday, enjoy our abbreviated weekend results/observations/offerings today:
Can anyone believe it’s April, already? Clearly, Cesc can’t.
Although yesterday we were recommending Abbey Clancy’s curry diet to drop a few extra kilos before the summer, we’ve since changed our minds. We are now fully on board with the Champions League weight loss method through extreme stress, adrenaline and nervous twitches. Hello, skinny jeans!
While you plan your bikini weeklies, feel free to have a look at our CL observations from the past two days. Meanwhile, we’re going to seek a live-in nurse to administer an IV of alcohol for the remaining portion of the tournament. Hey, we’re just following Lisandro’s orders to put our thinking caps on.
Tired of Lukas Podolski’s persistent chit chat about his superior camel toe in the dugout, Thomas Kessler prepares a permanent solution.
Not all male emotional expression has to be raw and Benfica-bunny rampant. The heart and lips of this Borussia Dortmund duo want what they want and who are we to stand in their way?
Most of the time, we’d happily accept the unofficial duties of innocent bystanders/reporters to you all. But today is Wednesday, also known as hump day. ‘Tis the day of the week where we rejoice that miserable Monday is long behind us, yet find ourselves fantasizing about the expensive Friday Happy Hour bar tab we will run up – and subsequently leave for some sucker to pick up – in two more days time.
In other words, we’re suffering from an acute case of midweek madness. When all else fails to curb our aggro-tendencies, we devise a scheme in which we score ourselves an invite to the next rousing game of Parma player grab-ass.
Hope you’ve made it to the mid-week with mind, ‘baller and soul in tact, Kickettes!
What is it about guys serenading their sweetheart with guitar strings? In Tomas Rosicky’s case, it’s truly amazing what this instrument can do for a man.
Actually, who are we kidding? He looks like the poor man’s version of Keith Urban’s half-brother’s step-child.
On the flip side, we wouldn’t turn Mario Gomez away if he tried to sing us sweet nothings while we slept. If Tomas is the surrogate sibling no one ever knew existed, then Mario is the rich man’s version of … well, a rich man playing a guitar. And we bet he plays a kick-ass version of Joan Jhett’s “I love Rock and Roll”.