SPRING FEVER ESPAÑOLA, part 2; or, DONDE ESTAN LOS TODOS CHICOS AT, part whatever

they were all hiding at the factory stores. and don't ask, because i have no idea what cruel twist of temp agency fate condemned them to the side of the highway by the coca-cola depot (and the awesome farm with the hay bale towers that look like the ruins of a cappadocian termite city). but don't worry, because reason or not for their being there, there's a free bus that will take you to visit. and you'll probably want the roberto verino jackets too, but half off still means a hundred and fifty euros, and your friend didn't spend so much on gas that you feel quite so obligated. and even if there's no zara, the rest of the conglomerate's brands are available in an array of price-quality combinations. the jackets at lefties ain't got nothing on the roberto verinos, but damn if they don't fit with unexpected smartness nonetheless, and even if you don't think that polyester is worth the thirty-seven euros, you might as well ask the sale staff for some help getting another size or color out of one of the displays. and damn if those asses aren't doing a fine job of filling out the back of them pants (which aren't from lefties). bend and stretch. do they recommend that their customers buy their shirts as small? theirs probably wouldn't button at the neck, but it's better that they're open anyway. these guys must have done something wrong though you're sure. unless they've been sent to model jail wrongly accused. there's another strip of conglomerate stores at the mall in front of the stadium, and i have no idea who would have to do what to get to work in one of those. but i'm distracted by the wave of barcelona jerseys heading the opposite direction down the avenue. they get their two goals in twenty-five minutes, but i don't realize that the home team had played the international favorites until the late night television recap. piqué did those ads for the recently relaunched menswear line by mango, but the mango store at the outlet mall only has stuff for women. well, here in seville we only buy galician anyway. and who dresses guardiola? "our love," scream the fans. but it's probably more like his wife's... shit, though, did he just throw a water bottle at one of the medics? and in our own house. and i start thinking about insurance, but less because of the dangers posed by visiting football clubs than because of the commercial. if i buy from bbva, maybe iker will ask for my autograph too...