I culé to the core, and I admit that I like to see lose (or not winning, that is to be the same) to Real Madrid. I do not think that is a sin, but alive, as I said the announcement of hemorrhoids-TV in silence in the solitude of my living room without disturbing anyone.
But it turns out I have a neighbor hooligan. It's a young lad (I do not think that has more than 20 or 22 years) with whom I meet from time to time by the stairs. Is often used interchangeably-dressed, with a tracksuit of Espanyol or one of Madrid and, despite my ancestral empty reluctance to hold talks with the other inhabitants of the ladder, always seemed a nice guy. We salute you, waiting for me in the elevator if you see that I enter the portal behind him, petting my dog, even once invited me to smoke. A guy and a neighbor issue. Except on days of football.
I do not need anyone remember the days when Barca, Madrid or both vying for Champions League day. In the morning, chanting antibarcelonistas (all types) and extreme right ('Cara al sol' included) from my neighbor 'happy' the morning shower, as I come across the yard of light flowing bathroom windows.
was my wife who told me one day: "I think the man upstairs has a child with a problem, because they hear songs and strange cries in the bathroom." I said no, the neighbors have two children (the above and a daughter who spends the day ' threaded' with her boyfriend in the portal) and a dog keychain those who do not stop barking so acute a you drill the brain. "But they seem normal," he said.
So the next day (they played a Juventus-Real Madrid), to draw the curtain and into the shower, thundered back that tune out of tune (if at least sing well!), I looked at the letters and associated it (which I confirmed later) the 'music' with the kid's tracksuit .
I thought about leaving a shower every morning, but soon I realized that personal hygiene is very often over the mental-except if you go up the tram in Istanbul , but that deserves a separate post- . So I bite the bullet and took a shower more quickly than usual.
By chance in that game Delle Alpi mean the elimination of Real Madrid. Figo missed a penalty and Nedved scored a goal against the impotence of Fernando Hierro (Manolo Lama uttered that day that the "Iron go to your people, by God!") to which I could not repress a cry of euphoria that caused a good mosqueo my dog \u200b\u200b(which barks like a dog for real) and a look of my wife that I have not seen since then.
guess my neighbor heard my scream, but I thought I had it in mind until tonight. When Víctor Valdés has done that twice paradón , the stream of insults that have come from the mouth of the football fanatic have heard from Badalona (where I live) to Castelldefels , I reckon.
I assure you I do not usually celebrate by storm fits the goals as Real Madrid, although in my heart I feel a pleasure greater than or equal to upper case the meringues feel safe when we make to us.
But I assure you also that I will not capitulate in this war decibel. If tomorrow the brand Lazio a goal (but ends up losing, as will happen) the cries of hiccups Pepe hurricane Pótam going to look sighs against which I utter. We never insult. Because I enjoy, but inside as a bastard, pardon, with such things, I am a gentleman.
I do not need anyone remember the days when Barca, Madrid or both vying for Champions League day. In the morning, chanting antibarcelonistas (all types) and extreme right ('Cara al sol' included) from my neighbor 'happy' the morning shower, as I come across the yard of light flowing bathroom windows.
was my wife who told me one day: "I think the man upstairs has a child with a problem, because they hear songs and strange cries in the bathroom." I said no, the neighbors have two children (the above and a daughter who spends the day ' threaded' with her boyfriend in the portal) and a dog keychain those who do not stop barking so acute a you drill the brain. "But they seem normal," he said.
So the next day (they played a Juventus-Real Madrid), to draw the curtain and into the shower, thundered back that tune out of tune (if at least sing well!), I looked at the letters and associated it (which I confirmed later) the 'music' with the kid's tracksuit .
I thought about leaving a shower every morning, but soon I realized that personal hygiene is very often over the mental-except if you go up the tram in Istanbul , but that deserves a separate post- . So I bite the bullet and took a shower more quickly than usual. By chance in that game Delle Alpi mean the elimination of Real Madrid. Figo missed a penalty and Nedved scored a goal against the impotence of Fernando Hierro (Manolo Lama uttered that day that the "Iron go to your people, by God!") to which I could not repress a cry of euphoria that caused a good mosqueo my dog \u200b\u200b(which barks like a dog for real) and a look of my wife that I have not seen since then.
guess my neighbor heard my scream, but I thought I had it in mind until tonight. When Víctor Valdés has done that twice paradón , the stream of insults that have come from the mouth of the football fanatic have heard from Badalona (where I live) to Castelldefels , I reckon.
I assure you I do not usually celebrate by storm fits the goals as Real Madrid, although in my heart I feel a pleasure greater than or equal to upper case the meringues feel safe when we make to us. But I assure you also that I will not capitulate in this war decibel. If tomorrow the brand Lazio a goal (but ends up losing, as will happen) the cries of hiccups Pepe hurricane Pótam going to look sighs against which I utter. We never insult. Because I enjoy, but inside as a bastard, pardon, with such things, I am a gentleman.
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