A couple of quick notes first:
1) The awesome Ranylt from Pajiba started a great new blog where Pajibans can post their delicious recipes. We seem to eat a lot of good food. I'm contributing with some Honduran/Latin American recipes and there's loads of good stuff there. It's called Godtopus Eats and it's great.
2) I can't believe the World Cup is over. One month every four years is just not enough to satisfy my cravings for yelling at the TV over the one sport I really care about.
As a whole, I think it was probably my favorite WC that I can remember after France '98. There were some excellent games, a lot of goals and some very exciting shakeups. New stars, big teams failing, little teams getting to where they had never seen before. It was just so much fun, and I can't wait for the next one.
As for the win? I don't think Spain deserved it, but I honestly don't think the Dutch deserved it either, though I would've been happy if they had won, because it's about time. My reasons why I hate Spain are manifold and not worth getting into now. I mean, they've won. Nothing I can do about it. I just never liked their team (with the exception of Casillas) or the way they played and never will. Plus it was a terrible final. I'm kind of glad we had a new champion. My choice to win it all would have been Uruguay, whom I think really surpassed anyone's expectations. Good job on Forlan getting best player of the Cup, though. He deserved it.
I did like Casillas, though. Dude's sweet.
It's over and that makes me sad. It was a good one.
3) I'm about halfway through Mark Danielewsky's House of Leaves. It's another one of those books that Pajibans rave about, and because I trust them I had to buy it even if the price was a little steep. And I've just been burning through it. I can't even begin to describe it properly. All I can say is that it's a deeply disturbing book about a haunted house (but much, much more than that) that's written all bizarre and confusing...it's just plain weird to read. And while I'm reading I might be a little disconcerted but not spooked, and there's long passages where nothing really happens, but when I put it down it just...it's worked its way into my brain, and it's just freaky. This is a terrible description but I can't figure out a way to word it properly. The book is formatted all bizarre, and there's a story within a story within a story and it all works to make you feel slightly off balance. It's quite an experience, but leaves me so spooked at night that I have to read a couple of pages of something completely mindless: in this case a 50c book I picked up at B&N) called Confessions of a Manhattan Callgirl, because I'm nothing if not a study in contradiction.
ANYWAY. Feh, now I don't even want to write about Twilight because it so pales in comparison to even that SECOND book I'm reading. I think I'll go take a shower --oh good lord it's 1pm I am so gross-- and then come back to The Pain