Archive for January, 2010

Dinara Safroida

First off, can we please get a standard on what a man is and what a woman is?  I know this is the new millenium, and we’re suppose to be tolerant of others, but howabout we just get some basic guidelines down for each gender?  Seems like lots of sports are suffering from a case of  bad Wayans bros. production (there was a fucking sequel!). From there we can start to recognize things like steroid abuse, or whose eating elephant tranquilizers for breakfast.  C’mon, you don’t get recurring back problems, female balls and no neckitus at 24 from playing tennis, you get it from slamming your ass with Barry B juice. Either way I’d like this freak of nature to, at the very least, be defined, I need to label my polaroids. Apparently Safroida demolished some limey 6-1, 6-2. Let’s see what happens when she plays someone not from Ipswich.

Brad Gilbert believes Roddick will take Gonzo in straight sets.  The only thing I want to know is, does he rub that tiny American flag with Roddick sweat before or after he wraps it around his giant gorilla balls?  And what’s up with that velvet suit and purple ‘kerchief? Fucking Don Juan of primates over here.  Roddick underwhelmed everyone who isn’t American and/or hooked up to life support by beating tennis giant, Feliciano Lopez, the Federer of “where’s that guy been?”  Seriously, what are you going to wow us with next, a keg stand? Lil’ underachiever exceeded expectations, 6-7, 6-4, 6-4, 7-6.  Straights indeed. I predict Gonzo 6-0, 6-0, 6-0. And while we’re (*ugh*) on Roddick, can we keep him out of the booth?  Dude is so slimy. True colors show on the court where he acts like a grade A, free range, organic, extra large, brown douche. Not when he’s kissing grown-ass babies who bow down to him like I did to my left over pizza tonight after my boo told me she wasn’t making me dinner.

Why is Clijsters down 0-3 against Petrova righaboutnow? (Addendum: make that 5-0).  (Addendum: 6-0. Has Clijsters won  a goddamn point!?). Wow, okay no more addendums. Looks like Petrova might bestow the double bagel on Clijsters. This is really no way to throw a match. Gotta make it look real. Check out some Davy footage. Unbelievable, 6-0, 6-1. It took me longer (sadly) to write this post.

So yeah, Monfils fell to that sickly looking Great Dane and I don’t really know what to say. Kinda makes me my face turn yellowish green. If you’ve followed me in the past you know I usually just shut it down when Monfils loses, so let’s just move on before I do just that.  Just needs to keep his goddamn head in the game.  Isner isn’t going to survive Murray is like saying John and Greg Rice were generating much cash flow. Pretty much a no-brainer. And what’s up with Steven Smith traveling around the world with Isner? Going to clubs in London and shit. Steven Smith’s street cred just plummeted. Can’t imagine how those off-season convos are gonna be when his crew gets wind of this.

Jankovic is proving to have Sharavanovic syndrome, going down in straights (2 and 3 even!) to Bondarenko, although that’s like a tiny aftershock after seeing Clijsters go down like that.

Jie Zheng whooped on my girl Bah-toe-lee after dropping the first set which holds zero wow factor the aforementioned paragraph.

I know I just spoke of tennis in general having awkward interviews but can someone please tell me why Screech is so whimsical these days? I know he has to make up for acting like a huge ass, but enough already with the yuck yuck.  Whoah, somebody in tennis has a personality, and look at how crrrraaaazzzzeeeeee he is (and how crazy I spelled crazy).  You’re gonna wind up the fucking Rupert Pupkin of tennis.  Just chill the fuck out, get a free pizza from that cocaine front your parents call a crepe shop that earns 1.4 million dinars per every goat year and reeeeelax.  No need to lose your dignity to a couple of hacks with tiny mics.  You already look goofy enough without sauntering around all over the goddamn place like a Serbian Clown.

I’m ’bout to hit the hay, but RAFA! just came out looking like a big ol’ titty. If he’s teaming up with some sort of Spanish breast cancer movement, god bless him. I know this post is like when you feel a giant dump coming on but only a tiny brown pebble falls out of your bum, but I’m getting back into this after fracturing both my blog legs (blegs?), so gimme some time to get use to these bleg braces.



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(|) > Tennis

unlimited text plan

unlimited chat plan

I’m not sure what’s more depressing: the continual chest pain I’m feeling, the continual rain that’s dropping, the continual hair loss of Prince William, the awkward interview I saw with Venus “I won’t kill you” Williams (her laughing coach has taught her well and let me add that pretty much all tennis interviews are horribly awkward), Taylor Dent’s 1 year stint in a full (XXL) body cast, The Pove’s absence from round freakin’ 2, Heninnnnn Horseface’s return to thee stage, Young’s hide being tanned by an Ozzy, the fact that Marcos “Jello Body Shot” Baghdatis only broke one wrapped racket, or what? So far this new year blows, and the unintended blackened fried chicken I ate for breakfast didn’t help matters.

Things that are stopping me from sticking my head in the oven are: soon Isner’s mug will be facing some serious turbulence via a Monfilbro, Blake didn’t get outta the first (fucking close though, aye?), I still have a little Old Crow left, I have cable again (with the angina inducing Tennis Channel, so I’m still undecided on how many chubs I give this new development), there appears to be at least one person who still reads this thing, my stove is electric.

I’ll be back tonight, and around for the forseeable future as a certain someone doesn’t seem to be returning my texts and IM’s. Glad to be back.

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Thunder Tennis


I see some people have more tennis ants in their tennis pants than other people’s pants regarding the upcoming season.

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