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Archive for September, 2007

     The tennis channel is really on their game, broadcasting zero matches from Romania, Bali, and China.  Instead I get to watch beach tennis, and some broad do “tennis yoga”.  I sent the tennis channel a video of me masturbating with a tennis racquet in the background, so keep an eye out for that; they’re sure to air it as it has all the elments of their other shows, namely tennis racquets, but no tennis being played.  But on to the meat!

     Although Davenport has a storied past with paying off Sri Lanken Chair Umpires (I mean, how many Sri Lanken Chair Umpires/Davenport jokes are there out there? I have 3 ready at all times.) there is no proof that she did so in this match.  Davenport shat on Jankovic and played “Down by the River” using Jankovic’s ribs as a glockenspiel, all cartoon style,  6-4, 2-6, 6-2.  Apparently Jankovic will join the ranks of women who turn me on by smashing their tennis racquets during a match, as she did so against Davenport in a match that had her crying about calls all day long.  Of course none of this can be confirmed as there is no fucking coverage of the China Open! Thank Monfils/GOD that Barry Wood exists, and that he doesn’t work for TTC.  Davenport kinda proved me wrong, but just as a win doesn’t count for squat in the China Open, neither does my prediction.

     In Bucharest Monfils keeps rolling through bitches like some sort of steam roller made for rolling through…bitches, beating Marc Gicquel 7-6, 7-5.   I really would have liked to see that match tennis channel.  If anybody is reading this bletus from Bucharest and taped the match, could you please transfer that Romanian style VHS tape/stone tablet to something I could view here in the states, transcribe the commentators comments(?) to english,  and send me the tape?  For free. 

     Monfils and Davenport both move on to the semi’s. 

     Quickly, I read that Federer will play Sampras for some idiotic reason.  Let me be the first to say that nothing good can come of this, except money for people who already wipe their dog’s asses with money.  It’s like when I got in a fight with that geriatric broad back in the day.  It was a hard fought fight (?) don’t get me wrong.  But when I laid down that final punch to her withered brow I realized that there would be no winners that day.  Winning left me feeling kinda cold and empty inside.  But letting Matilda beat me would have been a shock to my young boy-ego.  The moral to this story, and to this impeding tennis match is, don’t let young people fight old people in public.  I mean look what it did to Jankovic.  She’s a shell of her former forehead.

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     With names like Zack Fleishman, Zeng Shaoxuan, Boris Pashanski, Lu Yen-hsun, Kei Nishikori (I ordered that once), Marin Cilic, Rainer (Wolfcastle?) Schuettler, and Dudi (doody?) Sela, it’s hard to not pay attention to the Beijing Open.  Apparently Baghdatis (the Blake of the Beijing Open) had trouble getting through his first match against the always tough (to pronounce) Zeng Shaoxuan.  Davydenko proved there is life after Federer by beating Zack Fleishman, something no other top ranked player has ever done as Zack Morris has never played a top ranked player.  C’mon, was the Beijing Open created just so tennisburger could make fun of everybody? Take note, tennisburger will make fun of everybody.

     The women are in Bali and apparently the Lindsay Davenport of tennis, Lindsay Davenport is playing again?  And if she survives her 2nd round match she’ll be playing/losing to Jankovic’s forehead.

     Monfils is in Bucharest dying for other people’s sins by way of beating the shit out of them.  Bucharest was pretty blah before Monfils discovered this capital city of Romania.  Apparently it’s biggest claim to fame was the setting for a Wesley Snipes movie before Monfils set sail.  Monfils also set sail on Volandri’s ass, 6-3, 7-6. 

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When the morning skies grow red,
and over us their radiance shed
Thou, O Federer, appeareth in their light
when the alps glow bright with splendor,
pray to Federer, to Federer surrender
for you feel and understand
that Federer dwelleth in this land

     The Swiss just edited their national anthem, replacing the word “God” with “Federer” (I know this goes against the Monfils doctrine, but they are Swiss).  I kinda pictured that whole country beating off simulateously at match point, then one giant national orgasm when Djokovic laid “THE DROPPA!” into the net.  Finally Federer got that monkey off his back and won his first grand slam tournament.  I think he’s going to do big thangs in the future, possibly go back-to-back-to-back-to-back in the U.S. Open.  But let’s get to the drama…

     What the fuck was Sharapova doing in “Screech’s box” (did you hear him say “I applaud my box” after the match?  I laughed ’til I could laugh no more.)?  That was pretty much the straw that broke tennisburger’s back.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Screech and don’t deny his skills, but YOU DO NOT kick it in the “serb box” while Federer is going for four in a row.  I dunno, maybe she knew Federer would win and just wanted to be there, ya’ know, for his box.  Either way, I didn’t like that move. 

     As for Liza Manelli, what the fuck? Period. 

     Screech lost the fist set with a double fault and that’s when you knew his nerves were getting to him.  He had the same baffled look on his face as everyone else does who plays Federer; common symptoms of playing/losing to Federer are disillusionment, frustration, despair, and suicidal tendencies.  Here’s what it boils down to, it doesn’t matter how good you play, there’s always one thing missing: the fact that the other person is not Federer. Once someone is able to climb that hurdle then MAYBE they’ll  have a better chance of beating Federer.   Hopefully now Screech knows the difference between winning in Montreal and Winning in New York (or Melbourne, or Paris, or Wimbledon).  Screech was pretty gracious, even sending this video to Federer after being sent to his room for a 4 month timeout.

     When Federer was presented with his checks (and a new car?), Mirka, for the first time, lifted her eyes from her cell phone screen (you could see her ears perk up when Dickberg said “check”) and smiled bigger than anyone on the tour, ever.  I’ve been celebrating Federer’s win for a while now so the analogies aren’t exactly flowing, sorry. 

     This is by no means the end of tennisburger.  I’m all over that Kremlin Cup (if Sharapova isn’t repping that tourne I’ll officially call it quits with her) starting October 8th, and of course the tennis season keeps on rolling with the China Open in Bejing starting tomorrow.  Prize money is $5 (that’s U.S.) and a monkey meat sticky bun.

     Oh, and did you see what sets the champions apart from the losers.  No one cried Saturday OR Sunday! 

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davydenko_blog2.jpgWorld Champ-P-On

This girl sent Serena Williams to an embarassing press conference, Venus back to the creamy thigh factory, and a dude back to Russia with her penis between her legs.  Allez!  This chinese guy on the left started digging a hole back home after throwing his match to Federer. 

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     Before I went to bed last night I prayed to God (Monfils) that he would deliver an exciting tennis match via my cable provider.  Skeptics, do not turn your back on Monfils, he is listening!  Okay, Okay so Kuzmantsova v. Chakvetadze was a bit disappointing (this will possibly be the ugliest women’s final since Murray v. Henman in a women’s juniors tournament), BUT Henin v. Venus restored my faith in religion, tennis and mankind in general.  It also restored my chub. 

     Mommy long legs was aight in the first set, started to make a comeback at 5-3, took it to a tie-break, but quickly became unraveled losing the tie-break 7-2.  She didn’t look too hot coming into the second set either, but made a slight comeback breaking Henin, but gave the break right back, resulting in the final 2nd set score of 6-4.   Whoah, is that how boring sports writers sound?

     The plays at net for both did more for women’s rights than anything I can think of off the top of my head.  Perhaps NOW, should look into more volley-centric PR campaigns.  At one point there was a 27(?) shot rally, most of which had Venus at the net somehow able to stave off Henin’s HGH powered forehands.  At that point I had my checkbook out and ready to make a donation to NOW.  Hell, I was ready to write a check to my roommate Beth just for being a woman.  And you know what put that match over the top?  Nobody cried. 

     Tomorrow should be sweet too.  Davy D has ice in his veins, so you know he’s not going to cry.  Federer didn’t even cry when the Virgin Mary brought him into this world (does this mean Monfils begat Federer?).    Djokovic only cries when he’s impersonating (man those are getting tired) Kirk, and Ferrer is pretty much a robot built by Federer to keep RAFA! out of his face.  So unless the Kooz starts balling because her penis falls out from under her skirt, tomorrow should be a cry-free day.

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The Old Man and The D

     I really don’t have much to say as there wasn’t much to watch.  It was like my eyes were raped for 138 minutes.  And that’s a long time to be raped.  Actually to say my eyes were raped is giving those guys too much credit as even rape takes some effort.  It was more like my eyes were shit on (into?), or perhaps puked into.  Yes, Oh boya Moya and Screech pretty much ralphed into my eye sockets for little over 2 hours straight.  Screech looked old and tired, like he was coming down from a 3 week meth binge (with McEnroe).  And Moya looked like he spent way too much time on the bangbus (seriously, have you seen that guy’s “tribal” tattoo? While we’re on the subject, did there use to  be a tribe back in the day that drank coors light, participated in gang-bangs, wore sandals and played poker? I dunno).    They both looked exhausted from the get go, but somehow somebody came out a winner.   The final was 6-4, 7-6, 6-1.  If Screech comes into class looking like he did tonight, Ferrer is going to step on his glasses, smash his graphing calculator then sell it back to him on craigslist, then take shots of sangria out of his pocket protector, all while reciting the national anthem of Spain (funny enough there are no official lyrics to Spain’s national anthem, so I guess he could personalize the national anthem to fit the ass-whooping he’s just bestowed onto Screech, which is fitting ’cause Spain is probably just now being introduced to Saved by the Bell).  And Moya, well he better just take solace in knowing (for some reason) that RAFA! still looks up to him.  The only semi coming Moya’s way is half-way through a scene in bangbus. A-O!  The final point of the match was ended on a Moya double fault which pretty much says it all.  No one (including the players) even seemed surprised or shocked as it was just a shitty end to a shit-filled 2 hour match.

     Did anything else happen today?  Not really.  I’m sorry, but that match pretty much put me into a deep state of depression.  I just got my Federer v. Sampras match in the mail, so I’m pretty excited.  Maybe that will lift me up a bit; I mean on the cover of the DVD you can see a little ‘stache  on Federer.  Now that’s dope.

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     After many years of pro-Israeli involvement, the U.S. military stood idly by as Chakvetadze carpet-bombed the shit out of Peer and her forehead.  Peer kept looking up, seemingly waiting for U.S. helicopters bearing gifts, or armed soldiers, but they never arrived as Peer went down to (not on) the Chalk 6-4, 6-1.  Chakvetadze had Peer running around like a ball girl: frantic, confused, pre-pubescent, and basically demoralized.  Peer did have some “lucky” shots as Serena would call them, but the Chalk was playing, basically in order to not be poisoned.  Has anyone even seen Sharapova, or the Yurmeister?  Kaput. 

     It was nice to see the corpse of Gene Wilder’s corpse in the audience earlier today.  Other celebrities included Gallagher, Andre the Giant’s nephew, Prince, and other homosexuals.  Did you see Navratilova licking her lips as Chakvetadze was on the court?  They would make an awesome(ly gross) couple. 

     The Chalk will face Kuznetsova which I find unfair as it really hasn’t been proven if Kuznetsova is actually a woman.  She may have some post-op working downtown, but there’s nothing but man meat cooking on that grill.  The Kooz wrestled Szavay (of Hungary?) down to the concrete and injected the Kooz-jooz, 6-1, 6-4.  Chakvetadze has a bit of an edge (despite the Kooz being a man) as her road to the semi’s has been a bit more impressive.  The Kooz’s past  opponents looks like a who’s who of Eastern European Lilith Fair side stage acts. 

     As for Venus, well I stared at her hindquarters for the better part of 147 minutes.  All I can say for certain is that Jankovic’s forehead was no match for Venus’ bag of squirrels, losing 6-4, 1-6, 7-6.  Venus had about as many unforced errors as she did winners, and that is all I can really glean from the stats.  When will Jankovic become a real serb? Venus will take on Henin in the semi’s and don’t think that shit won’t be personal, for both players, as Henin is kinda racist.  Or no, I mean, ’cause Serena was talking all that shit, that’s what I meant, sorry.

     And what can I say for my boy Federer?  Motherfucker shut it down AGAIN.  Roddick, there is NOTHING you can do to beat this guy.  I’m thinking maybe Federer is Roddick’s dad.  You know how you can never really kick your dad’s ass (unless your dad is a total pussy, accountant/stock broker kinda guy)? When you were 13 he’d whoop on you, all play-style, laughing and shit while you were giving it your all. Then you were 18  and you were a cocky little turd, and he’d put a little more into it, but in the end he’d have you pinned down with his foot on your throat while drinking an Old Milwaukee.  To this day I still don’t think I can whoop my old man.  He’s been through 842 surgeries and he’s old as dust, but something tells me he’d still put me in my place.  Well, shit, maybe this is what Dirty dick Roddick is going through.  He definitely gave it his all (he really tried to put away those last bites) but still came up a with a huge L tattooed on his normal sized forehead.  McEnroe finally said something enlightening; as Dirty dick’s  stats were posted he asked, how can this guy be losing?  The question was answered by a dashing young man across the net in tuxedo shorts, and cute little swiss patches sewn onto his shoes for each U.S. Open he’s won.  As much sense as it doesn’t make, it was lights out from the get-go, no matter how good Roddick’s game was.  And the only thing more frustrating than that is not being able to beat your dad’s ass. Oh, the score was 7-6, 7-6, 6-2.

     Lastly, let me point out that Andre Kirk Agassi was “in the box” for Federer’s match and he ALMOST didn’t cry, but he did.  I SAW YOU KIRK!  That annoying court-side commentator asked this question to Federer that Kirk had asked during the match: “What is your regimen like?”, to which Federer looked up at Kirk and answered, “I don’t cry”.  Kirk then began to cry.

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