To Make Up A Game - Egypt Eye Make Up
To Make Up A Game
- makeup: an event that is substituted for a previously cancelled event; "he missed the test and had to take a makeup"; "the two teams played a makeup one week later"
- Cosmetics such as lipstick or powder applied to the face, used to enhance or alter the appearance
- The composition or constitution of something
- The combination of qualities that form a person's temperament
- constitution: the way in which someone or something is composed
- constitute: form or compose; "This money is my only income"; "The stone wall was the backdrop for the performance"; "These constitute my entire belonging"; "The children made up the chorus"; "This sum represents my entire income for a year"; "These few men comprise his entire army"
- A single portion of play forming a scoring unit in a match, esp. in tennis
- a contest with rules to determine a winner; "you need four people to play this game"
- crippled: disabled in the feet or legs; "a crippled soldier"; "a game leg"
- A complete episode or period of play, typically ending in a definite result
- A form of play or sport, esp. a competitive one played according to rules and decided by skill, strength, or luck
- bet on: place a bet on; "Which horse are you backing?"; "I'm betting on the new horse"
2009 AFC - NFC Pro Bowl Practice Hawaii
With a huge red lei around his neck and a wide grin that could have stretched across Oahu, Larry Fitzgerald held up the gleaming, silver MVP trophy. It sparkled in the sunshine as much as his game. The only problem: It wasn't the Lombardi Trophy. Fitzgerald caught five passes for 81 yards and two touchdowns, 44-year-old John Carney kicked two fourth-quarter field goals, and the NFC rallied to a 30-21 victory over the AFC. The Arizona Cardinals' All-Pro receiver, coming off a record-breaking postseason and a spectacular Super Bowl in a loss to the Pittsburgh Steelers, earned MVP honors. But he said the victory over the AFC, which featured three members of the Steelers' defense, didn't ease the pain from the Super Bowl. "No, not one bit," he said. Fitzgerald also took home keys to a new Cadillac. "I'm just glad we won, that's the most important thing," he said. On a sweltering day, with 60 percent humidity, Kurt Warner started for the NFC and played just one series before making way for Brees. Warner was just 1-of-2 for 8 yards. "I would've liked to have won last week and not this week, if I could switch them out," he said. Fitzgerald caught a 46-yard scoring pass from Drew Brees before the half and a 2-yard TD pass from Eli Manning for the go-ahead score with 4:07 to play. The NFC defense took care of the rest. Manning, making his Pro Bowl debut, was 8-of-14 for 111 yards. While big brother Peyton had better stats, 12-of-17 for 151 yards and a TD, Eli got the win. "He didn't play the whole second half, so it's not about beating my brother, it's just about having fun," Eli Manning said. The Manning brothers were the first quarterback brothers in Pro Bowl history. And Carney, who was a perfect 3-for-3, became the oldest player in the game's history. He booted a 48-yarder with 2:06 remaining to make it 27-21 and sealed the win with a 26-yarder with 32 seconds to go. Sunday's all-star game ended a successful 30-year run at Aloha Stadium, with a sellout every year. The Pro Bowl will be played in Miami next year, a week before the Super Bowl. The NFL, which has been looking to increase the profile of the game, hopes to bring the game back to Hawaii. The players, who spent most of the week by the beach and sipping umbrella-adorned mai tais, were pretty unanimous in wanting the game to return. For Warner, the question now is whether this was his final game in the NFL or, as a free agent, will he opt to continue playing at age 38? "I don't know right now," Warner said. "Again, when I have a feeling one way or the other, I'll let everyone else know. I don't have a time frame. This is the first time right now that I am done having to think about football for a while, and I'm going to enjoy that part of it, enjoy my wife, enjoy my kids and then we'll make a decision as soon as we can." The AFC was looking to hula dance into halftime with a comfortable 14-3 cushion after Kerry Collins connected with Owen Daniels on a 9-yard scoring pass with 28 seconds left in the half. However, that was more than enough the time for the NFC, with all its weapons. The NFC took over at its 45 with 19 seconds left after a nice kickoff return by Clifton Smith. They ran two plays before Larry Fitzgerald hauled in Brees' 46-yard bomb with fellow All-Pro Cortland Finnegan on his back as time expired to pull the NFC to 14-10. It made for two huge end-of-the-half plays in consecutive weeks for Fitzgerald. But this time, rather than trying -- and failing -- to chase down James Harrison on his 100-yard interception returned for a TD, Fitzgerald was the one celebrating. Fitzgerald also beat Finnegan on his second score. "These guys are such elite players, it doesn't take much time to get in the groove with these players," Fitzgerald said. "These guys were great." The usual high-scoring affair surprisingly also featured plenty of defense. Despite rules such as no blitzing linebackers and safeties, the quarterbacks were feeling the heat, at times buried by the defensive line. None of the passes had any room for error on throws against the speedy defensive backs. The AFC had a chance to take the lead late, but Julius Peppers got in the way. Down by six, the AFC started its drive on its 20 with 4:03 remaining and got to midfield. Peppers then swatted a pass by Jay Cutler with his left hand and came up with the interception that led to Carney's 48-yard field goal. There were three straight drives ending with a turnover in a span of about 2 minutes in the third quarter alone, including two by Collins. The second led to the NFC's first lead of the game, 17-14, late in the third quarter. Jared Allen stripped Collins from behind and scooped up the bouncing ball at the AFC 10. All-Pro Adrian Peterson, last year's Pro Bowl MVP, finished it off with a 10-yard run. Pinned on its 4, the AFC came out firing behind the league MVP. Peyton Manning completed pa
(4) Coulrophobia - one bottle of absinthe (or commitmentphobia)
Still, deeper depths can get pretty chilly from time to time can’t they? F*cking fear of commitment, I tell ye, it’s the bane of the world. Well, that and a few other of the worse things us folks can get up to. Still, exaggeration aside, just imagine what life would be like if we just f*cking knew what it was we wanted, and what the f*ck it was they wanted and, you know, just the whole thing. She likes you so you hate her, she hates you so you totally love her. And there’s worse, you don’t mind her, she doesn’t mind you and you both skitter about in a mundane wonderland for way too f*cking long. We’ve all been there eh? Total brain-melt so it is. A’ve been on both sides of the ol’ commitment-phobe thing maself. I mind one lassie, half Italian, half Belgian and more than a wee fraction bugger. A long winter night, one bottle of absinthe and a Pink Floyd bootleg was all she needed to rip apart an admittedly tottering relationship and send ma heed fair spinning. To her you could be the movie star man in the night and then, come dawn, her foot, your arse and out the door you went. She and me were nowt like, nothing at all, just two very lost wee folk playing at being grown ups, but by God did she mess with ma head for a few months. The reason? She never wanted me, not that she let on anyway, and that, man that drove me out of ma box so it did. I found out later, too late, that she was pretty far gone down some dark corridors of the mind, ye know? The scars on her arms never came from no cat, that’s all I’m saying. The oddest thing about her was that, one night, I just turned up, trying to get out of the skelping rain was all I was doing. There were no games, no drinks, no late night Pink Floyd sessions, just me at her door. She let me in and I can tell you, that was the night I realised she did want me; she just didn’t know how to get there. When I was leaving, she showed me pictures of her birthday party, she was pointing out who she liked and didn’t like and she said one thing that still cuts me to this very day. ‘None of these people are my friends, not really, but this guy, I love this guy’ No prizes for guessing who that picture was of. Broke my heart so it did. By then it had been a few months of games, late nights and kicks up the arse and I wasn’t into it anymore. It fair comes around don’t it? All that time I would have done any bloody thing I was commanded and then, when she gets to nub of it all, sets her heart out on a plate, I’m gone. I tell you one thing though, it doesn’t matter what else I gibber on about, whatever it is that has got me down, the one thing I’ll aye be thankful for is that am no scared of commitment no more. As I huv said at obscene length, I got a fair kicking from the gods of karma a while back. Maybe it was deserved, a dinnae ken. I mean, I did a few bad things, and many in the good name of commitmentphobia. There was Julie and the night in the telephone box, Lila on the steps at the castle party, Sandra and her absinthe, Julie and the lock in. Hell, there was all the soul searching, the ‘taking a break’ and the endless pensive sodding afternoons trying to figure out what the latest palpitation in my oh so achey heart was all about. But I still don’t think I deserved what I got. A bit overboard, ken whit I mean? Still, the one thing that all that bloody abuse from above did was knock a few things into place, and a certain lassie into my life. These days, commitment is no a bad word. These days commitment is the one thing that stops me hurtling off this planet and into the smokey hot realms of emotional f*cking meltdown. No, I tell you, for all that’s wrang and all that pours out of me in the way of misery and melancholy, I know I’m staying afloat as long as a have commitment. She’s a wee thing like, but a’ve got a load riding on her I can tell you. Disnae matter if I’m in the next room or the next continent, come the time of my latest distress, there’s only one name I’m gonna be calling out. And long may it last.