Well hello there.
I see you've caught me sitting outside the White House in the coolest way possible. I was supposed to go inside for a tour with the rest of my teammates, but it seems these Secret Service men haven't forgotten the time they caught me taking a bubble bath in the Obamas' tub during my offseason break. I told them there was plenty of room for everyone, so they have no reason to still be upset. I do regret clogging the drain with those peacock feathers, though. Ha-HA!
Aside from this minor affront to Europe's greatest erotic dignitary, Manchester United's Berba-blast tour of the U.S. has been an overwhelming success. Not only did The Berba score in our win against the MLS All-Stars, but I also led the team to victory over Barcelona without ever looking up from my unintentionally sexy yoga positions book while sitting on the bench. Ha-HA! Perhaps we can hide behind this street lamp and practice some of those moves? ... No, you can't practice them with Chicharito a.k.a. Little Berba instead. He suffered a concussion while I was trying to teach him how to hide in a tree outside a Berba-beauty's bedroom window. Clearly he has spent far too much time practicing on the pitch and hasn't learned the other vital skills for being a professional footballer like window peeping and the delicate arts of mayonnaise therapy. In which I have a homemade certificate of mastery. Ha-HA!
Oh-OHHH! I just realized that I've been sitting on dog feces this whole time! Oh, at least I hope it's dog feces. Oh, this is terrible! My breakaway trousers are ruined, but the Secret Service warned me not to take them off again, presumably out of fear that the American people would make me their next president if I did. In which case I would have to politely decline because I still have several chapters to read in my unintentionally sexy yoga positions book.
Join us again next time for another chapter in the life of...The Continental...
Photo: Eric Sawitoski
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