You can't unhurt a feeling—especially when that feeling is caused by a Timbers Army scarf:

In the kitchen I heard the cheers getting louder and louder and thought the game must have been going well. I came out with my arms full of plates of food for your hungry mates. As I walked past you the whole place erupted with applause. You frantically waved your scarf in the air, slapping me directly in the face with it. You offered no apology, chuckled a little, and continued to applaud. On my way back to the kitchen I glanced at the TV and saw that the score was 0-0. I got bitch slapped by your fucking scarf so you could celebrate a fucking tie. So tonight, while you and your scarf wearing army cried into your cups at Jeld-Wen, I poured my self a beer and smiled at the thought of your title hopes crashing down like a freshly felled tree.

If I believed in karma, I might say the Timbers lost because of that a-hole with the scarf—but I don't. Karma doesn't care about soccer, or scarves, or beleaguered service industry workers. Or I, Anonymous submissions! Hey, do you have one? Then send it to the I, Anonymous Blog—where karma doesn't give two shits.