If I'd known - rather, if I'd thought to look, though I've no idea whether I could place a bet online at a European oddsmaker - I'd have put $10 on this:
The online bookmaker Betsafe had been offering odds of 175-1 that the Uruguayan, twice banned for biting, would sink his teeth into an opponent during the World Cup in Brazil. Sure enough, more than 100 gamblers decided that it was worth a punt. When Suárez seemingly did just that to Chiellini near the end of their Group D clash in Natal, it was time to celebrate.
Easy money. As is any bet that I couldn't go more than six months without daydreaming of changing this blog's appearance. I'm not going to - yet - since it's not this blog's appearance but it's content that I daydream most about changing. I dicked around and created another joint for giggles and fuck it and fuck me and probable abandonment, not even writing there - yet, he says - what I don't allow myself to write here. No, it's not on any of the blogrolls. I am the self-Suarez of bleggalgazers.
Look, I’ve already ruined it
or it’s ruined me.
The dawn I see by doesn’t need me
like I need it
and any extra letters it brings.
What we call mountains
is a deep violet strip
narrowly rising and falling over the green.
You might call them clouds
and be right
or hand me something crisp
call it money or flowers
and set it alight.