I love my dad.

I went to the footy tonight to see North Melbourne and Collingwood (I'm North Melbourne) and we of course got fucked in the arse by the magpies. Worst feeling ever: being beaten by Collingwood. Worst of all, I was with Steph and her Dad, and they are dirty pies supporters. So this is the transcript between me and my dad, who I started messaging because I was ready to punch something.

Me: I hate life.
Dad: (tries to call, obviously thinks I have had some crisis) What's up?
Me: You're obviously not watching the footy haha sorry to concern
Dad: Nice jumpers (we were playing in our wanky away jumpers)
Me: Nice nothing. They are playing uselessly. Nothing in life worse than being outplayed by Collingwood
Dad: I agree
Me: Pigs bloody breakfast
Me: Even when they're 8 goals up, Collingwood supporters will still whinge about the umpires
Dad: Is Didak on bail?
Me: If he is, it's the only consolation I have. In the meantime, I'm amusing myself by imagining the sense of humour that the parents of Steele Sidebottom (actual name, I kid you not) must have had. (#22 for the Pies)
Me: Collingwood on top of the ladder, great end to the night
Me: Joffa and the cheer squad congregating under a cloud of smoke, hope he doesn't get punched, can't afford to lose any more teeth
Dad: Won't have to beat his wife tonight
Me: Won't want to miss the last train back to Broady. Thanks dad, that was a painful 3 hrs.
Dad:Good night love you


And despite my team playing possibly the lousiest game of footy I have ever personally witnessed, the night was okay. Now is when I stop staring at this white screen of doom and get back to sleeping and listening to Joni Mitchell. Good night