Did you notice the name change?

I did, but that's because I made it.
If you did too, and you are not me, that would indicate that the new title is untrue. In fact, even if you didn't notice, but you are reading this, and you are not me, then that would indicate that the new title is still untrue.
And that makes me happy.
However, barring the odd wonderful exception that is you, I know the title is broadly true.

A comparative analysis of the temperature at the end of the universe and the temperature in my old weatherboard house

When the last star dies, when entropy and expansion have wrought the death of the universe; it will still be warmer than Boarking Mansions tonight.

Boarking conjures the footy gods

All that stuff yesterday about Christians and lions, about feeling like a Melbourne fan, and lottery winning odds, not to mention the tipping against my own team; all a ploy, to tease and goad the footy gods into delivering for the 'dons. I'm glad they fell for it, I know I did.

christian bombers & lion hawks

We're off to the Colosseum tonight to see the Christians take on the lions. I'm cheering on the Christians, but I'm not tipping them.

Actually, I'm going to the footy, as you might have guessed. I was using metaphor. But it's true that the bookies are paying similar odd on Essendon as they used to pay on the Christians (probably), so the metaphor would appear apt.

It's not impossible that Essendon will win, just as it's not impossible that Boarking will win the lottery.

I'm going to the game in the spirit that Melbourne supporters go every week, and I will enjoy it!

Those footy gods, again...

There is no other explanation for Fev's post-er.

Sometimes there is a little magic even in just listening to footy: Fevola marks 15 out, 45 angle. It's all over, Carlton have done what Essendon did a week before. The commentators go quiet as he takes the kick, leaving the listener with the crowd... We hear the roar waxing, but it falters then wanes, the crowd like one wounded, bewildered animal. We know something is amiss, but what?

The footy gods have struck.

Frolicking with the footy gods

I don't believe in God, the one who loves me and has a personal plan for my salvation, but is quite happy to send me to eternal damnation if my reason (given by Him) leads me to conclude that He doesn't exist.

I'll believe in the footy gods though; they love no-one but the game, they are as capricious as the bounce of the Sherrin. They love the great spectacle, but understand that it must be given sparingly. I give praise that they bestowed a spectacle yesterday, and wore a red & black scarf whilst they did so!

They slew Hille in the opening minutes then steeled Ryder with the spirit that the day is about, to step in for a fallen comrade. They slighted Rocca, then took the dream of a boy called Zakaharis and made it true.

All to the good, but a small god took the time to play a little trick on Boarking, who thought himself 5 out of 5, after tipping all yesterday's upsets, who thought himself on for 8, a collection of the work comps' $250 jackpot, and the kudos of tipping 8 when few can. But the little god has messed with his tips, or else he forgot to save his changes, and finds he hadn't tipped the tiggers after all. Amid much gnashing of teeth, there was a powerfull whiff of deja vu.
Oh well...

Some bemoan the mixing of footy with the ANZAC sacrifice, and the depiction of players antics with the terminolgy applicable to real soldiers in real wars. I don't mind. Football and other team sports were founded in the English public school system as a preparation for war. I, for one, am quite happy when sport becomes a replacement for war.

another bad choice in the world of blokes

Following a turn of events, hinted at in Love Song, that were a little damaging to the Boarking lovelife, it has been decided to re-activate the long dormant internet dating profile. Here's the blurb:

"Click here to make another bad choice in the world of blokes.

The infamous, and frankly a bit nutty, blogger that is Boarking, is now available for the Delight of discerning* young** ladies of a cute, quirky, silly and perhaps slightly hopeless nature.

Their friends think them a bit odd, but love them dearly.

* By "discerning" we mean a lady still prepared to not compromise on the following:
A partner must... be male, not gay (not that there's anything wrong with that), have pulse.
** By "young" we mean that her mother's friends define the lady as "young""

Why it could work:

• We are not aiming to be the prospects first choice. They have to buy more "stamps" or whatever than they need. We aim for the humorous, silly profile, that looks good for the last throwaway stamp they have left after contacting their good prospects.

• Apart from the "infamous" bit, it's all true.

• We attach a sweet, natural photo (taken by the ex-!)

• If the contact doesn't want to spend any money, they can google, and contact the boy publicly for free via the blog comments.

Why it won't work:

• It's internet dating.

• I am hopeless.