Come and visit London’s Home of Trophies. 🏆
Book your Stadium Tour at Stamford Bridge now. ⭐️⭐Come and visit London’s Home of Trophies. 🏆
Book your Stadium Tour at Stamford Bridge now. ⭐️⭐Come and visit London’s Home of Trophies. 🏆
Book your Stadium Tour at Stamford Bridge now. ⭐️⭐Come and visit London’s Home of Trophies. 🏆
Book your Stadium Tour at Stamford Bridge now. ⭐️⭐Come and visit London’s Home of Trophies. 🏆
Book your Stadium Tour at Stamford Bridge now. ⭐️⭐Come and visit London’s Home of Trophies. 🏆
Book your Stadium Tour at Stamford Bridge now. ⭐️⭐️
I hope this photo is a watershed moment.
Forced to carry on to the end of the race with a broken back.
Collapsed & died after the finish line.
RIP Gold Dancer.
If you’re making money off this kind of suffering - how do you look at yourself in the mirror?
Turn your volume up for this one.
This is real audio from the S&P 500 futures pit at the CME during the Flash Crash of 2010. On May 6, 2010, markets were already having a rough day, down over 300 points on worries about the Greece debt crisis. Later, the bottom fell out. The Dow dropped another 600 points in about 5 minutes. Nearly 1,000 points gone on the day. About 9%, kaboom.
Then 20 minutes later, most of it came right back.
This clip never gets old.
Took my (frigid) wife to see Wuthering Heights tonight. Car ride to the theater she put on the Hamilton soundtrack and scrolled through Pinterest the entire time ignoring me. I think I chipped a tooth from clenching my teeth.
Walk into the theater lobby and it’s a sea of screaming black teenagers and obese guatemalan women babbling into speakerphone. I buy her some garbage to eat and we go into the theater. Before we sit down she accidentally (?) spills her extra large diet Dr. Pepper on my seat, but the theater is full so I just sit in it. My ass is immediately soaked but I don’t care I just don’t want to move my body anymore I just don’t want my body to function.
The guatemalan women are in the theater and they and my wife are all staring at their phones, giving the room a sickly, ambient glow that makes my eyes water and my stomach turn.
The movie starts and I mentally check out, thinking of the chubby teenage girl at the concession counter and how thrilling it would be to kidnap her. I let my mind drift away but my wife snaps me out of this fantasy by hacking loudly trying to get a stuck popcorn kernel out of her throat. The guatemalan women sense distress and start nervously gibbering in their gutterspeak. I excuse myself to the bathroom but instead sneak into some kind of cartoon called Goat.
I sit in the back and sob softly until a black teenager notices me and screams “ayo dis gay nigga crine!” and the rest of them start jeering and screaming at me so I rush out. I lock eyes with the chubby teenage girl in the lobby and she looks sad and I imagine she’d be okay with me kidnapping her but I just go back and sit next to my wife in the giant puddle of diet Dr. Pepper.
The movie finishes. We leave. Wife immediately puts Hamilton soundtrack back on and scrolls Pinterest. We won’t be discussing the film.
No, we won’t be discussing anything.
Am I Heathcliff?
Am I myself?
Am I a person?
Am I sure I can keep doing this for one second longer?
Tomorrow is Friday, but in reality, everyday is Monday.
Missed a sitter to settle the game, strangled another human in front of a million cameras because his mate on roids couldn’t handle him himself, got himself banned for 3+ games, and put his team in the relegation zone. All for the badge ⚒️❤️