Goooooooooool!

I'm not super into sports, but I do love soccer fútbol and the World Cup. And I especially love soccer fútbol and the World Cup in a bar with other Americans that love soccer fútbol and the World Cup. Just kidding, I'd much rather watch it at home alone like the hermit I am, but I don't have cable, so alas, a bar it is.

It's been a while (years) since I've experienced a big sporting event in a bar with a buncha excitable drunks. As it turns out, beer only comes in cheap, domestic lite and huge. All I'm sayin' is that it's a good thing I lift, because my trough of pisswater was heavy. 

And those guys, the ones that wear body paint and rainbow wigs to college football games, they exist for soccer too. They wear speedos and American flag capes and chant things at the top of their lungs like:

I believe
I believe
I believe that
I believe that
I believe that we
I believe that we
I believe that we will
I believe that we will
I believe that we will win!
I believe that we will win!
WIN WIN WIN! 
*bangs fist on table, burns building down*

The thing about drinking during happy hour without eating, is that even though you leave the bar sober (that right there was a disclaimer for you people who think I shotgunned 17 beers and got in my car. Wrong.), you need fast food like a pregnant lady needs pickles. I drove past no fewer than 3 Taco Bells before I gave in. I mean, seriously, how were there that many Taco Bells on my way home? (#merica)

Hi, my name is Nerky, and sometimes I eat shit food.
Did you know that they have a thing called a Quesarito? Count me in, mothertruckers.
It was a 650 calorie delight.

Two World Cups ago (warning: impending humblebrag) I was in Europe, more specifically, Rome, where my friends and I found some tiny pub at the end of a cobblestone street (it was molto Italiano) at 2am or some other crazy young people time to watch the Italy vs. USA game, and I shit you not USA won. I don't know who brought the American flag, but we all wore it on our shoulders as if we had personally scored the winning goal. Thinking back, I bet we looked like the epitome of American douchebags. Oh well, when in Rome.

U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

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