Nice Best Car For Girls photos today

Check out these best car for girls images today:

Image by wakingphotolife:
You might know this (and as Addy can probably tell you), I am crazed sports fan, especially when it comes to boxing and basketball. Next to pictures, my girlfriend and my job, it consumes the largest portion of my life. It’s been this way, ever since dad started taking me to see the San Jose Giants in minor league baseball games.

As a sports fan living in Sacramento, 2002 was the biggest year ever. This was also probably the biggest year in my life up to that point. It was my senior year of high school, I had been accepted into college, and arguably the most attractive girl in the whole entire school had been my senior prom date. What more could I ask for? Well, just one thing, the Sacramento Kings had the best record in the entire NBA and was just completely dominating teams. That’s right. It was the year of "GO KINGS!"

For the entire NBA playoffs, a group of at least fifteen of us had gathered at Lampost Pizza to watch every single Kings playoff game. It was pizza, soda, and basketball every other day for almost an entire month. And the camaraderie. It is still the one of the best sports experiences that I’ve ever had. Who cared if these were fair weather fans and band wagoners, the fact is, we finally had someone besides ourselves to cheer with. That was until Game 6 of Kings versus Lakers in the Western Conference Finals.

My family moved to Sacramento from San Jose at around 1995-1996. I had never followed basketball. Living in the Bay Area, there were just so many teams to pay attention to and I think I got lost among all the hubris. There was the San Francisco 49ers, the Oakland Raiders, the San Francisco Giants, the Oakland A’s, the San Jose Sharks, and the Golden state Warriors. Where would I start? But in Sacramento, there was only one team to follow and that was the Sacramento Kings.

The 90s were seasons of mediocrity and below for the Kings. I had become use to it. I was only 13 and after doing homework, not having anything to do at night or cable TV, I watched basketball on the local channel. Soon enough, I went from watching out of boredom to being a more serious fan. And then, my auntie, my mom and dad followed suit. It was a family ritual to watch games. Even when we played terribly.

By 1999, the luck of our team began to change. We were winning. We were winning big. And over night, we had become the talk of the NBA. Kings games were being shown on ABC on Saturday afternoons and mornings. Back in 1995, the idea itself would have been nothing more than a play ground hoop dream.

But all that changed in early summer of 2002 when the I was witness to the worst officiated basketball game of my life. We had blown the Lakers out of the game and were on our way to our first NBA Finals appearance. The New Jersey Nets were waiting for us but they were push overs and a championship banner was all but guaranteed. Until the fourth quarter arrived and the whistles began to blow. And they blew. And blew. And blew. And then the game was over. 106-102, Lakers. Everyone had watched in disbelief as "the fix was on" someone in the parlor said. I didn’t want to believe it. I was diplomatic about it – "We played a bad game." "It wasn’t meant to be." But did I really believe that? Only 36 minutes ago, I thought it was destiny.

We were robbed. Blantantly. The thought of it made me want to throw up as I walked back to the car.

In the days that would come, I’d realize that Sacramento wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The entire sporting nation, commentators, newscasters, writers, radio hosts, everyone in sports media, talked about the last 12 minutes of the game with raised eyebrows. As a consumer advocate, Ralph Nader would call for a comprehensive investigation.

Even the most hardcore of you Laker fans would have to admit it and sympathize a little. I mean, if you were watching game 2 of the Lakers-Celtics on Sunday night, you would have to understand, just a little right? The tiny town of Sacramento was no match for the basketball history and money making machine that is Los Angeles when it came to market and profits. We live in a crooked world where money drives everything and businessmen and executives look for the best ways to line their pockets. At 18, I was sure of it.

Still, I chalked up those feelings to my obvious hometown bias and life went on. I went to college, I picked up the camera and pen, I met the first love of my life, I graduated, I teach and look after 6 and 8 year olds who nothing of the fate of the 2002 Kings. Yes, life went on, but the Sacramento Kings and I were never the same again. I still root for them and follow them as feverishly as I did, but the spark is long gone.

And then, a friend sent me this article: "Donaghy says ref fixed playoffs; Stern says no." Now, I don’t know what to feel. In a way, I feel vindicated. Even if they are just allegations, I believe these words 100%, and for years I’ve had a darkening realization of I see is the truth that I’ve been facing away from. But what can be done. The game cannot be played again. Players have retired, they have moved on to different teams, they have been injured and unable to return.

I think this years’ NBA final will be my last one. From what I have seen, there has been nothing to convince me otherwise. I will still follow my Kings, like that lame one-legged dog that you continue to take care of.

I guess all that I can say is, c’est la vie. C’est la vie. This is life. As with everything else in life, things come in cycles and in 20 years time, we’ll be back. You can put your money with the bookies on it.

THE WHITSUN WEDDINGS


Image by summonedbyfells
On 02/12/2011, the 26th. anniversary of the death of the poet; and exactly one year following the unveiling of the Larkin statue, The Philip Larkin Society unveiled five new roundels inscribed with extracts from his poetry. The roundels are set in the concourse of the Hull Paragon Station close to the Larkin statue and have been created by the statue’s sculptor, Martin Jennings.

This extract is from one of Larkins best and most famous poems and provided the inspiration for Martin Jennings’s statue of Larkin, rushing from the Royal Hotel to catch a train…

THE WHITSUN WEDDINGS

That Whitsun, I was late getting away:
Not till about
One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday
Did my three-quarters-empty train pull out,
All windows down, all cushions hot, all sense
Of being in a hurry gone. We ran
Behind the backs of houses, crossed a street
Of blinding windscreens, smelt the fish-dock; thence
The river's level drifting breadth began,
Where sky and Lincolnshire and water meet.

All afternoon, through the tall heat that slept
For miles inland,
A slow and stopping curve southwards we kept.
Wide farms went by, short-shadowed cattle, and
Canals with floatings of industrial froth;
A hothouse flashed uniquely: hedges dipped
And rose: and now and then a smell of grass
Displaced the reek of buttoned carriage-cloth
Until the next town, new and nondescript,
Approached with acres of dismantled cars.

At first, I didn't notice what a noise
The weddings made
Each station that we stopped at: sun destroys
The interest of what's happening in the shade,
And down the long cool platforms whoops and skirls
I took for porters larking with the mails,
And went on reading. Once we started, though,
We passed them, grinning and pomaded, girls
In parodies of fashion, heels and veils,
All posed irresolutely, watching us go,

As if out on the end of an event
Waving goodbye
To something that survived it. Struck, I leant
More promptly out next time, more curiously,
And saw it all again in different terms:
The fathers with broad belts under their suits
And seamy foreheads; mothers loud and fat;
An uncle shouting smut; and then the perms,
The nylon gloves and jewellery-substitutes,
The lemons, mauves, and olive-ochres that

Marked off the girls unreally from the rest.
Yes, from cafés
And banquet-halls up yards, and bunting-dressed
Coach-party annexes, the wedding-days
Were coming to an end. All down the line
Fresh couples climbed aboard: the rest stood round;
The last confetti and advice were thrown,
And, as we moved, each face seemed to define
Just what it saw departing: children frowned
At something dull; fathers had never known

Success so huge and wholly farcical;
The women shared
The secret like a happy funeral;
While girls, gripping their handbags tighter, stared
At a religious wounding. Free at last,
And loaded with the sum of all they saw,
We hurried towards London, shuffling gouts of steam.
Now fields were building-plots, and poplars cast
Long shadows over major roads, and for
Some fifty minutes, that in time would seem

Just long enough to settle hats and say
I nearly died,
A dozen marriages got under way.
They watched the landscape, sitting side by side
—An Odeon went past, a cooling tower,
And someone running up to bowl—and none
Thought of the others they would never meet
Or how their lives would all contain this hour.
I thought of London spread out in the sun,
Its postal districts packed like squares of wheat:

There we were aimed. And as we raced across
Bright knots of rail
Past standing Pullmans, walls of blackened moss
Came close, and it was nearly done, this frail
Travelling coincidence; and what it held
Stood ready to be loosed with all the power
That being changed can give. We slowed again,
And as the tightened brakes took hold, there swelled
A sense of falling, like an arrow-shower
Sent out of sight, somewhere becoming rain.

Philip Larkin 1922-1985

Tags:best, girls, Nice, photos, today