Snooker

Went to Sheffield last night for the World Snooker Championship. Had a fabulous time, Sheffield is very pretty, had a chance to test out the camera of the new phone(not very pleased with the pictures, but I haven't spent a lot of time tweaking with the setting yet).

Oh, and saw Steve Davis play. Did I mention I love Steve Davis? He's awesome. This is the 30th year he's played in the World Championship and it was incredible watching him play. Game was good, almost saw a century break from Mark King(missed a black when he was at 94 points), also got to see Mark Williams and Marcus Campbell who were playing the other table and Ken Doherty who was there to give an interview, from what I could tell.

In one word though? Fabulous.

Pictures next(clicks make 'em bigger. Please note the awesome 8MP resolution on the camera, mkay?):

Random from around town:

Stage entrance. No, I did not stalk it. Yes, I wanted to.

Cue Zone. Nothing going on when we were there, sadly. 

The actual entrance to the Crucible!

The trophies for the 5 main championships in a season.

Awesome seats, right? 

The ceiling was awesome.

And a goodnight to all. 

Goodbye

This time, the bartender won't be coming to open the door while we stupidly wait outside because it's too early and we don't want to be home.

Goodbye, old friend. I'll miss you.

*I realize that this post won't mean anything to anyone who reads this, with maybe one exception. But to many of us, it's the end of an era.

Why we do not assume

Or how I got called the slightly less polite version of a hussy.

I was on a plane flying back to Romania a few days back. Now, this was a connecting flight from Birmingham to Amsterdam(off topic but Amsterdam Schiphol Airport? Awesome! They have a freaking museum there). I was sat in my usual window seat when this older couple sits next to me. Now for the record, I was wearing short shorts. However, I had black tights and I’m not exactly one known to wear skimpy outfits anyway. But yes, they sit next to me.

And for the entire 55 minute flight, the woman commented on the length of my shorts and how I was obviously only wearing them to attract attention. And I was a hussy, streetwalker and a few other names because of the length of my shorts. 55 minutes of that. Now I was seriously tempted to offer her a book, since clearly she was very bored if she had nothing better to talk about. Never mind that I was freaking comfortable and I had a stained hoodie on(what can I say, coffee is not my greatest friend). No. I was trying to pick up men and make them look at me and stuff. It was awesome.

Oh, did I mention this entire monologue mostly(since her husband would just nod) was in Romanian? Which she assumed I don’t speak, since she talked to me in English when I helped her with her bag and the overhead bin?

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we do not assume. This and because at the end of the flight, the person you’ve been bitching about might just turn around and thank you politely in Romanian when you help her with her bag(unintentionally, I swear, but oh, so satisfying. The Romanian bit was unintentional, not the thanking them). Kodak moment, party of 3.