I Dunk, Therefore I am

So I just got back from a little trip to Italy on Friday night. Started in Albi, mini-bused it to Barcelona and then flew to Rome and some other Italian city next to Jesi where we played. "France to Italy via... Spain?", you say. Sounds like a logical way to travel. Go west to get east my son!

As predicted we got pretty much owned in 3. I believe the scores were 25-14, 25-20, 25-19 and though we played well, they played better. A lot better. Actually it didn't go as bad as I thought it might so thanks for the prayers on our behalf. No noses were broken and other than a few egos, we got out unharmed. Unfortunately as soon as the game ended, I realized we get to recreate the drama a week later when they come to our house for the rematch next wednesday. All we have to do is beat them in 3 at home and then win a sudden-death "golden set" to take the series...

We played this...

In a word, we're about to be eliminated. And sadly, that means my days of gallavanting across (predominantly eastern) Europe are soon to be over... Pour out a little liquor of your beverage of choice for me.

Side note - back in France, we won yesterday in a record quickness of 1 hr 13 mins vs. the last team in the league. I'll take it.

Also, in keeping with the _______ of ______ album theme (see: "Hats of Romania" post for that reference to make any kind of sense), The American and I almost did an "Artwork of France's Neighbors" album on this trip since we saw some pretty clutch paintings in the hotel and truckstop restaurant throughout our travels... But the title didn't quite have the right ring to it.

Selections would've included a vivid watercolour of hot pink and red wild horses and a still-life of a lobster on a telephone. Not talking on it (that would be a reasonable artist's depiction) but sitting on the phone. Unfortunately we never got around to taking pictures of pictures, or of anything else much for that matter, so this post is conspicuously low on photos... Our bad. Either way, obviously I've been deeply moved since I'm for some reason writing about these paintings and though I don't know who's painting them - keep doin' your thing. I'd try to speculate what the deeper meaning or message behind the art could've been but it will only end badly in puns or stupid metaphors so we'll move on...

I was watching the NBA dunk contest this fine Sunday afternoon, a mere 12 hours late because of the unfortunateness of time zones and my need to sleep at night. And dayum, I wasn't too impressed. Other than ridiculously bad commentating and someone (not naming names, DWIGHT HOWARD...) attempting the oft attempted and boring dunk-from-the-foul-line, it was underwhelming. Nate Robinson, the 5'9" phenom, took the title with less-than exciting displays of physical freakishness. Here's to hoping Lebron does it up right next year.

Re-reading that paragraph, I realize nothing I just wrote really makes sense, so scratch all that. It just wasn't good. For any of you who missed out, this play-by-play was a lot more entertaining. Dude said it right:

"And he dunks the ball into the hoop, and people are ecstatic. Also, keep in mind ... same gag as last year. NBA: Where Creativity Happens."