Sometimes you wake up and you realize, today is gonna be my day. Then you're fucking overjoyed because hey, things haven't exactly been going 100% for you recently but you get the fuck over it and head out. And then you go to the bar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere midwest USA and somehow happen upon a scouse girl who is here on exchange. Well... you start a conversation with her asking her if she's part of the blue or red part of Liverpool and she responds by saying she doesn't walk alone (lame)... but you know, I go with it. You make fun of the United fan who is running the trivia that evening and that endears you to her. You threaten to drink her under the table, but the liverpudlian pride does all it can to denounce the claim, losing of course. You buy a red fish bowl to reinforce the issue that you're a true member of the Kop. Then you start falsely talking up coutinho and lallana, then you're in. Grinding comes naturally and let's be honest, you're terrible like paulinho v burnley but before you know it, you're back at her place for the evening. It's mega cold so you're beyond enthusiastic to have a house and bed to return to. You see she has a picture of dirk kuyt above her bed which hampers your performance, but you push through. Inevitably... the harmonious miracle commences and like any Spurs performance, it's a little slow and shaky to start. you break eye contact and look up to give the finger to the jamie carragher poster that neighbors kuyt above the bed as things get more intense. Now things are at full tilt and your form is more dire than a Vlad chiriches appearance because let's be honest, its been a while since you were last called upon to perform. Well things are over and she looks at me with more disappointment than when Slippy G had the title taken from his hands by Demba Ba. And you're worried that you're gonna be the recipient of a Pochettino-esque exile but no, manage to get another chance. That's what the second legs are for, right? Things get started for the reverse fixture and man oh man are things going better. This is amazing, you're Bale v Inter, you're Defoe against Wigan, you're Kane v. Chelsea. (Let's be honest... yeah right). But now you're in control but it only lasts a short time because you accidentally let the secret out. You call Klopp a numpty and she looks back "you what." But things are beyond the point of no return. You approach the end of the game and look deep into her eyes and starting off quietly before growing to a roar you sing "He's magic, you knoooow, Mauricio Pochettino!" Full time is called and she is pissed. You clean up, share shake hands and get on your way home. You smile a fulfilled smile as you got the 3 points and are going home a semi satisfied man ready to take on the world. Heading out the lady's apartment, you sing "Glory Glory, Tottenham Hotspur" just loud enough for her to hear as you wait for the uber to take you home. What a day. ^{oh man. ugh, seriously someone euthanize me}

Anyway, I think it'll be a cagey affair but no reason we can't come away with 3 points. COYS.