Amidst Shark Attacks, Giant Bugs, Irritating Accents, Ridiculous Slang and Swarms of American-British Hybrids the Aussie Open, Open's!

     That Betty Ford is one tough bitch, lemme tell ya’!  Welcome back, or better yet, welcome me back.  I went out for a pack of smokes back in ’08, but I’m here to claim what’s rightfully mine, and what’s rightfully yours to enjoy, or scratch your head at and wonder, does this guy know how to write, let alone write about tennis?  A lot’s been happening, and not happening, so I just want to jump right into the mens draw, and pretend like I never really left you, ‘k Billy (*proceeds to give you a painful noogie, informing you I kinda missed you, but more importantly, that I reign supreme over the television and the squishy spot on the couch*).  As always we start out with the men here, as women get dibs on everything in this society, namely, black eyes, doing the dishes, getting boned, paying for winter vacations (to the Mickey D’s drive-thru), corns, those nasty scabs on the back of their heels from those dumb shoes that make ‘em walk like  baby ducks, and uh, doors…we open doors for ‘em.  So let’s get it on goddamn it! Cock-style, if you will, as my masseur at the local bathhouse calls it.  ___________(insert uber-masculine, Australian version of let’s go! here).  

     I don’t remember exactly how the scene goes down, but remember how Biff from Back to the Future had that book that had all the results from all the past (ur uh, future) sporting events.  Well here, below is the equivalent of that, not so much as I went back to the future, but I am pretty amazing…so here’s my completed bracket, completely.  Sit back and watch your personal recession disappear as you plug in these names as the days go on.  Davey, where yours be at, dog?!

     Have you seen that Le Monf got the 12 seed? That’s like number 1 AND number 2 together!  Fantastique! He’s like, best and second best!  It’s like that Popeye’s Louisiana Wrap that mixes the best of everything, namely red beans and rice, and a chicken nugget all wrapped inside a warm toasty, mexican tortilla.  Just like they eat in the dirty!  It’s like getting boned, then all of a sudden someone comes in and starts feeding you ice cream while you’re making your own cream.  I think you’re feeling me here.  There’s a potential french toast (this is actually a rad/hilarious bletus and I urge you to read it everyday until your eyes bleed, then read it in brail until your fingers bleed, then your toes, etc…) brew ha-ha about to go down in the quarters if Richard “Who doesn’t have a heart now, beyotch” Gasquet can escarget (see that) his way past newcomer Rafael Nadal (uhhh, did his parents think they had given birth to a teenage mutant ninja turtle?).  RAFA! the man with the cleanest ass crack this side of my ass crack actually, I think, in my (*cough) humble opinion has it tougher than Federror (my equivalent of tipping a forty to DTBM, not DTBM by the way).

     Alan Trengove, writing for those shark huggers over at Aussieopen.com, declared that Federer faces a rocky road.  Shit, I’ve faced rockier roads in my freezer.  A-O! Seriously, glancing over at my Oscar-nominated bracket, and winner of class of ’09′s most likely to beat all other brackets bracket I show that the Cream Dream only has to get past Safina, Wawrinka, Del Potro, and then, yes, Samuel Powers (who we’ll get to shortly).  But c’mon, not to be a giant dick toast or anything, but he really just has to get past himself.  I know, I know, that sucked, but you know what I mean.  There’s that scene in Footloose where the Baconator is playing chicken with those redneckmobiles (tractors?), and he’s so not a pussy, and is ready to show these new cousin fuckers how heinous he is by not turning the wheel.  But then his Chucklace gets wrapped around the go pedal and he has no chance but  to forge on, even though now he just wants out.  It’s like sometimes fate is there to pull us along, as has been the case with Federer for a long time.  But now he’s starting to chicken out when the going gets tough (and the tough run out of cliches) and his only hope is some kind of wonderful (like that other movie!)  Well here’s to hoping Federer gets his shoe stuck in the go pedal.  Of course he’s gonna have to face Monfils in the final, so there you go. 

     Other notables include Golubev and Fognini.  Golubev is the Kazakhstanian with the mostastanian.  I have this guy getting into the 3rd round.  If Borat is in the crowd cheering this guy on I’m pretty sure my chub will reach maximum thrust and break some kind of chub sound barrier.  I’m sure the internet ratings will go through the roof along with my chub’s flying sperm count.

     As for the (*gag*) Americans, I have Blake getting past a qualifier in the first round, against my better judgement.  I then have him getting past Darcis against my best judgement, but then my best judgement comes half-circle, and I have Gulbis bringing him down faster than the worlds biggest banana peel in the 4th round.  

     Tennis.com’s TV schedule has the Tennis Channel getting into the quarters!  I thought by then they’d be showing old episodes of Rocky and Bullwinkle in that episode where they play tennis for 10 seconds after jumping out of Boris and Natasha’s peddle-powered zeppelin. I seriously bet you a million dollars that more people watch the Tennis Channel for those rad Shamwow and Snuggie infomercials, than they do Tennis Academy or any other crap they put on.  On one episode of Tennis “Classics” they had last years match of Screech v. Federer.  I remember one time when I was around 8 years old my dad and I were in the garage and he was showing me how to change the oil, and then my dad’s friend walks in and eyes this pin-up girl from a Playboy my dad had hanging up. He looked at it and said those tits are classic.  I can only guess that same guy went on to become chief programmer for the Tennis Channel “Classics” episodes.  I’ll hold all Gimelslob hate crimes till the open has officially begun.

     There is so much talk about Murray’s elevated game over tea and crumpets in me mums bungalow with all her friends, but I just don’t see it.  The bookies apparently see it, or saw it, I’m sure all that noise has gone to bed, but I just can’t get behind a white dark horse.  To quote Bud Collins, dude just blows.  And if you’ve never witnessed bumpin’ uglies personified, just wait till Murray (Teenwolf II), and Radek “How’d he pull that off, see:Vaidisova” Stepanek face each other’s faces in the 4th round.  I’ll be wearing a bag over my head! A-O!  

     And rounding out the last of the bottom half…I really don’t want to see Karlovic and the 789 aces up his sleeve sneak past Ancic, but I really don’t see how Ancic can pull that one off.  If you do, please write out your answer and overnightl it to:

     Mario Ancic

     Court 2

     Sharkland, Australia

     Oh no oh my almost forgot about Spadea…he’s more crazy than a bag of chlamydea (roll with me here).   He’s a rappin’ old man…in a dusty old van.  But don’t worry ’bout that, cuz in the 2nd round… Gasquet’s gonna give’em a french dirt nap.  And that aint no Cleveland Steamer, but a 2nd round facial…creamer, y’all. Jyeah.

     In the bottom half (my favorite half), the unmentionable mentionables are pretty, well, boring.  Llodra with two “l’s” faces Roddick with two “d’s”.  And it’s like, how boring are “l’s?” They’re straight fucking lines most of the time! And look at “d’s!” They’re straight lines with half-circles. BORRRRRRRREEEEN.  I mean look at these two guys! It’s like Tom Cruise from Cocktail versus Tom Cruise from Risky Business. You’re not really sure who’s gonna come out the winner, but you’re almost positive he’ll be covered in STD’s.  The bottom half (which is usually the juiciest half) has been so dry and non-succulent  I have Dirty Dick going all the way to the quarters (first The Tennis Channel makes the cut, and now this!) to face Samuel Powers.  Why don’t I just throw Colon Powell into the mix! Ugh!

     I have my boy Lu! going all the way.  Look at this fresh face.  Kid is sick.  Got his fuckin’ hat on all backwards and shit, smirkin like a little punk know-it-all.  I like this kid.  I have a feeling this kid sits behind me in my Java class.  He’s from Taipei. Enough said.

 

 

 

 

 

     I have Baghdatis beating Fish.  That’s how shitty this shit sandwich has become.  It wasn’t even a shark sandwich to begin with (Spinal Tap, anyone?).  

     Djoke has the ride of a lifetime.  They should make him play on hot coals or some shit just to make it even.  He (maybe) faces Mathieu (who could take him to the barnyard, but I seriously have less doubts about me paying off my school loans before I reach 75/the grave) in the 3rd round, Baghdatis in the 4th, and Dirty Dee’s Nuts in the quarters!  I bet you he’s puffin’ on the stankiest Serbian skunk against Chardy in the 1st…just to see if he can do it.  You just know he gets high with his mom.

     It’s just more bullshit the further down you get.  I likes Tipsarevic, but dude is more wishy washy than a fat person in line at KFC.  Del Potro is pretty much whatevs in my book.  The whole bottom half is peppered with Berdychs, Wawrinkas, Cilics, Isners, Bollelis, etc… It’s like a who’s who of what was the question again?

     So there you have it.  A bunch of drunk ramblings from  some asshole at 1 in the morning.  I’ll get into the women’s drawls tomorrow.   

     Glad to be back. I hope these next two weeks prove to be funner than the last 4 months off I’ve had, high on angel dust while writing poetry to hookers.