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As we all know Tennisburger does not allow criers, so let this be a warning to the entire Oudin family, namely her under achieving twin sister, whatshername.  Tears from crying are a big no-no here on the ‘burg, but don’t think for a second that sobs of joy are tolerated here either.  That girl straight out did the lip curling sob where it looks like you have no teeth-you know the one- right after Melanie upset Kuznetosova’s uglier twin sister, Petrova.  I don’t understand tears of joy, and I definitely don’t understand me no fucking breakdown, open mouth, no teeth, shuttering, sobs of ecstasy.  Now my girlfriend says I have no heart, but she also thinks I’m good looking, sooooo, I dunno, try and figure that one out.  And sobbing looks ten times dumberer when you have one of those US Open satellite dishes in your ear (seriously, can someone tell me what those things are, besides totally stylin’?).  Oh yeah, but the match…

So Oudin lost the first set big time in little China, going down to Petrova (which I’m pretty sure means lumberjack in Russian) 6-1.  Apparently she’s won (all?) 5 grand slam matches after losing the 1st set, so as Dickberg pointed out (he was very proud of himself after this comment), Oudin had her right where she wanted her (good one Dick!).  Actually right here I’d like to take a quick break and address some of the weirder things Dick Enberg’s old brain spat out during the match:

1.  She’s the type of girl you’d like to have live next door to you. I don’t know what this means, but coming from a grown-ass man upwards of the 60 year age mark that can only mean he’d like to spit in her corn hole and dry it up with my corn cob.  I mean, yeah, sure, I’d rather a 17 year-old tennis phenom live next to me rather than an 80 year-old Chinese man who does calisthenics at 5 in the morning only to follow that up with a clearing of his lungs and throat of green oysters for the next 45 minutes, but I’ve never thought about it that specifically, let alone verbalize it.

2.  I dont’ have this exactly right, but something to the affect of If she were to see a fight she’d be the first to get right in there and put her chin out. Why is Dick Enberg having thoughts of living next to a 17 year-old girl and subsequently thoughts of said girl getting in a fight?  I know I deplored Dick Enberg to stop using the word delicious to describe matches, but if this is the alternative, can we please go back to having delicious matches?  It’s awkward for me to hear this stuff while I’m on the couch, half-naked while eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon.  It just makes me feel guilty about what I’m already doing.

There were more, but inhaling computer cleaner kinda cleans the memory as good as the keyboard.  So Oudin came firing out of the gate in the 2nd.  I don’t know what that last sentence means really or where it came from, but just like when I get caught pissing in public, I prefer to turn the other way and run.  So (as I’m writing this Djoke is blowing Stepanek’s fish face out of the fucking water, *sob* no snake dance tonight for me) Oudin took the 2nd in a tie-break, then blew past the Russian choker in the 3rd, 6-3.  Then aforementioned waterworks ensued.  Someone farted, I laughed, then ate a cheese puff leaving most of it on the curly black blades of pubes that cover my bare chest.  Labor Day indeed.

Anyone see Dulko get blown the fuck out? Double goose egg? My God, I’d actually like to have seen that.  Bondarenko must know something we don’t.  Some video? A letter?  A polaroid perhaps? Why even show up?  Or at least play in your joke glasses with the fake mustache so no one knows for sure if it’s really you.  That’s what I do at my job when I show up drunk, gotta cover all your bases, dontchya know?

Wozniacki upset the fuck out of the Kooze, but managed not to upset most of the straight males who plan to watch more women’s tennis.  I say bring back the corn rows. If you really wanna be on top of your game, and this goes for any professional career, really, get your fuckin’ corn row on. Oudin v. Woz? I like Woz, but I can’t ignore my general rule of going with anything that’s 17 years-old.  But for fucksake, tell your sister to hold it with the water works, this is a happy time. I know your high school tennis trophies don’t mean shit right now, but let’s try and focus on the better sister right now.  Maybe later you’ll win the US Open at 17.

Sippin' on Gin and Juice

Sippin' on Gin and Juice

I’m bummed I haven’t been able to post/see anything Monfil related, but tomorrow night I’m gonna be on it.

After feeling what it’d be like to lose a set to a freak of nature Verdasco got his Axe body spray out, his Axe hair care products and his baby oil and dismissed Isner 4-6, 6-4, 6-4, 6-4.

In other news, I’m tired. Hope you all had a nice Labor Day staring at tennis for 10 hours like a goddamn zombie loser who lives in his parents guest house.

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First off, stop reading this, go to Justin Tv (dot com), get yourself an account, and while any tennis match is going on entertain yourself with the most hillarious commentary since, well, this site.  According to one Nysaf, he recently heard that “Federer takes it in the backdoor,” and believes that “Federer sux.”  I seriously love this shit and is officially my new addiction.  Someone asked if anyone in the room likes Roddick, to which I replied, “show me your tits.” I had to watch the final set of the Roddick v. Isner match online, but I must say it is my go to for new material on this site if not just for pure shits and giggles.  Newsflash: people are funny.  But yeah, tennis…

Oudin (or Oudini which I heard Carillo call her which was actually pretty good, score one for the carpet cleaner) somehow beat Sharapova which I was at first livid about until I realized Lefty Mcloberton probably aint gonna beat Serena, so I was content, then I realized her 85mph fastball aint gonna be cuttin’ the mustard against Serena, so then I was a back to being upset (and a little confused) and finally tried to will myself to liking Oudin more than Popov.  As the 3rd set trudged on I realized Oudin (screwed up nickname in the works) I’m not that big of a fan.  She had how many match points?  And how many times did Popov double fault (Carillo had another good one saying you musn’t have more double faults than the age of your opponent)? 19? I dunno, that 3rd set was hard to stomach, kinda gave me the shits (no giggles).  But alas, I have no one else to root for, except the Woz and my mom’s boyfriend, Todd who is in a triathalon tomorrow.  I can’t stand when tennis players don’t give credit, and I’m not saying Oudin didn’t play well or “win the match,” but Popov looked like the fat cowgirl I saw at the burlesque show last night, who, incidentally, farted in my face (note: I’d pay to have Lefty Mcloberton drop a couple notes from her butt trumpet onto my grill).  I dunno, for all the “fire” and “heart” and “life” Carillo claimed she had she sure did take a few trips down to chokesville.  By the way, if you’re not sure if your gay here’s a quick way of finding out: check your phone. If you have a text from Billy Jean King (and those creepy purple glasses), chances are, you are.  And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, too bad, I’m a little too drunk and gassy (the kung pao chicken worked) to get into it.  Speaking of Choke city…

Anyone see Jesse “1982” Witten? I know Gaia Live did, dude’s in love.  But yeah, I finally got to see his match after repeatedly yelling at my girlfriends television, explaining that the Federer match was boring and had no character.  By the way, if you’ve just recently been freed from your kidnapper after more than 18 years and didn’t know, Federer beat Hewitt in four.  But Witten, what an ape. I hereby offer to shave his arms if he’ll shave my old ladies back.  And what’s the big deal with his forehand? The motion is quick but other than that I’m not too impressed.  Anyway, the guy is probably on his way back to the Jersey shore with his $50,000 minus whatever he spent on Columbian nose candy, alimony and child support.

Isner in normal tie-break fashion took Roddick’s crabs to the gas chamber in 5 and I couldn’t be more thrilled.  More on the chat tip for a sec. While watching this match someone kept asking (at first I thought to be funny, but after the 5th time of asking the same question I thought the guy really wanted to know) if the woman in the stands was “Isner’s girlfriend or mom.”  Priceless.

Well, Blake’s about to get “upset” by Robredo, and my girlfriend is offering up that sweet sweet 69, so I’ll see you all tomorrow.  Sorry for the short sucky post.

You heard it here first bitches.  If these two meat heads don’t make it to the finals, the only reason will be that the wheels on their muscle cars were slashed. I couldn’t find a picture of Jesse “1982” Witten with a muscle car, so I did the next best thing and added a stretched, pink, PT Cruiser to his photo.

Coolest Hat Ever

Coolest Hat Ever

Anyone Need a Ride with a Side of  Gangley, Hairy Newport Beach Toes?

Just Me n' My Thumbs

If these two top dogs, Ice Man and Maverick if you will, don’t make it to the championship match I really see no other reason to go on living, except for maybe jaggin’ off and the poor dental plan I receive at work.  I can’t even begin to describe the strangeness that would fill the air if these two behemoths lumbered onto the field.  Witten would come out to The Ace of Spades and Dent would come out to 2 Live Crew’s Hey, We Want Some Pussy. I’m getting wet just thinking of the possibilities and I’m not even built like that.  Dads in the stands would have to awkwardly explain to little Wayne and little Debbie that these two ass hats are indeed champions. Man! That’d be something.

Well anyway, back to reality (which usually blows).  Anyone see Christina (sorry babe, the twat spells it wrong) Mchale go down in teen flames against Karate Kid?  Fawwwwk.  First came the pre-match interview.  I don’t know if Mchale was scared that she was about to play on Arthur Ashe at night, or that the woman interviewing her had no lips.  Either way, she was sweatin’ more than a virgin on prom night.  All red. Pasted on smile.  Had to feel bad for her. At one point I thought she was going to shit out her TeenBop magazine (with Taylor Dent on the cover) right there.  I don’t even know if she heard the questions.  I know I didn’t, I was too busy laughing.  So she blurts out two short answers then shuffles off.  Then comes Sharapova with a fucking silver headband and a black dinner dress (which she intends to play in) with silver sizzle all over it and a wry smile on her face, like she knows she’s gonna have to embarass this little girl, that it’s her duty and worst of all she’s gonna like it.  And that she did.

The first two points of Sharapova’s were like a lewd gesture to the teen Mchale.  I get paid to make jokes about that kinda stuff and I was uncomfortable.  I wanted to shield Mchale’s racquet’s eyes from the giant dong that was Sharapova’s first two returns.  Mchale’s little giggle into her towel was pretty priceless though after the forehand winner, I’ll give her that.  But that’s all I’m giving her and Sharapova did the same thing.  Early on in the first set Sharapova, on the run switched hands and forced an error with a left-motherfucking-hand lob.  I don’t even switch hands when I’m pruning the pear tree if you catch the drift coming off my masturbation metaphor.  I dunno if someone as fine as Sharapova can have the nick name Lefty McLoberton but I’m gonna give it a spin.

Returns on both side of the game were good for the first four games, but Mchale couldn’t keep up and before I knew it Lefty McLoberton had won the first set 6-2 (although in the second Mchale held and the score keeper put up 6-3 and my mind took a giant dump, then they changed it to 5-3 which really fucked me up).  Lefty McLoberton whooped on Mchale in the quad in straights 6-2, 6-1.

Lefty McLoberton faces Oudin who plucked Big Bird 5-7, 6-4, 6-3.  I missed the Oudin match, but I’m sure everyone’s all Oudin’ed out at this point anyway, at least until Saturday.

I just realized I goofed with Vani King. Ooops.

You know the green movement has gone too far when Alec Baldwin is telling me to compost at 1 in the morning while I’m trying to watch the US Open.  Note to cancer and go green, I’m not interested right now. Sometimes I’d like to forget the cyst on the top of my head (seriously), and the fact that my biodegradeable banana peels will destroy the earth if I don’t dispose of them properly.  It’s 1am, all I’d like is a quick wack attack, some tennis and a few Z’s.

Can anyone tell me who Tom “Death Stare” Rinaldi is?  Guy thinks every second of his life is a goddamn staring competition.  Google much? I don’t know if chill pill’s exist, but if they do, could you find a couple and send them over to Rinaldi’s eye balls?

Anyone see Blake get uberfuckingexcited over his 3rd set win over Rochus.  Man, times are tough.  First I’m forced to compost my toe nail clippings and now this.  Blake, listen, Rochus is ranked 90th in the world.  I could fart right now and it’d make a bigger blip on ATP’s radar.  And why in the shit we’re we even forced to watch that match.  I know Isner and his tie-break fest were going on, but wasn’t there another match (I was huffin’ glue, excuse me if my memory isn’t 100%) we could’ve watched.  McEnroe himself admitted it was a goddamn Scrabble game.  Oh yeah, ’cause he’s American!  Well shit, they might as well have just broadcasted an apple pie baking, or NASCAR (by the way, anyone notice the ESPN ticker that said a NASCAR driver broke his foot playing frisbee?).  All I’m sayin’ is, this is tennis, it ain’t the Olympics.

Can I tell you right now that Dulko is going to shred Shevadova into some  Kazkhstanian brown weed?  Forget her hometown, this girl struggled to beat Jankovic who was obviously elsewhere the entire match.  And those glasses!  Jesus, I’m heading over to Vegas right after this post.  If I’m wrong, you can all have a laugh at my expense, for the first time I’m sure. If I’m right I’m gonna break the world’s record for receiving the longest lap dance.

Wozniacki and Azarenka are my two dark horses.  Would love to seem in the final.  Not exactly Dent v. Witten, but a close second.

Maria Jose Martinez Sanchez! (that name just needs an exclamation point) takes on Serena. Any guesses who I’m rooting for?

Anyone notice how easy Monfils has it? Nadal with the banged up knee?  I dunno, it’s gettin’ late so I can’t get into it right now….

You Wanna Piece ah Me?

You Wanna Piece ah Me?

Jesse “1982” Witten caused another cold war attack by upsetting (literally and I’m guessing the other way is literal too) Igor Andreev in straight sets.  Witten is of course a qualifier; what he qualified for is anybody’s guess (mine is cheeseburger eating contest…dude is fat).  Rank is 267. After today and the ridiculous ATP ranking system (futher down I defent the ranking system, nevermind that) I’m guessing he’s 16 in the world.  His Facebook photo has a Jersey twat hanging on him while she flashes her V(agina) sign. He’s got one ear ring (in the left ear, we wouldn’t want anyone thinking he’s gay or anything). I dunno, what’s not to like about this guy? All he needs is to thrust his hips at his opponents like he’s air fucking them and I’m pretty much all on board for this guy. His next opponent is Maximo Gonzalez, a Mexican super hero perhaps? Witten scorpion bowled Andreev in straights, 6-4, 6-0, 6-2.  Looking at the stats of this match I’m not sure how anyone won this match.

Sharapova beat Pironkova from Bulwhatia, 6-3, 6-0.  It’s gonna take a lot more ugly to take down my girl.

More visor, less eye sore

More visor, less eye sore

Ivanostache is out and I can’t say anyone is too surprised except maybe the entire country of Serbia and anyone residing in Yipsville.  Actually it wasn’t the yips as much as it was she just isn’t that great. With lines like that I’ll have Dreysdale’s job any minute now.  Seriously, I’m glad to see her go along with Wayne Odesnik, Ivo Karlovic, Rajeev Ram, Dudi, Wawrinka (yeah, I hate that guy too),  Voskoboeva (it was a farce from the moment I heard Kazakhstan) and Radwanska (the one with teeth).

I can’t really quantify how lucky Safina was today, but if I were to compare it to say, oh, I don’t know, the time I was a butt hair away from being caught by mother while jacking off to 3 spread out porno mags I found in the creek which were spread out over my bed as she did the knock-walk in only to find my bare ass flying into the bathroom with my precious black tail mags, you may have a better notion of where on the luckiness spectrum Safina’s win lies today.  I left my house in the 3rd set with the biggest choker in NY history (aside from the Janks against Boston in the ALCS, of course) up 3-0 in the 3rd set.  I went to the courts to hit a little, and two very fat men 5 courts over were yapping about “number 1.”  I could only guess she lost and spread the news like wild fire, or herpes. When I got home I finally watched the end only to find that Safina had run amuck against the Aussie, coming back to win the 3rd set 6-4.  I think you know what tomorrow (today) will be like as I run into the dozen or so people I told Safina lost.

And yes, I saw Serena yuck it up about how she should be number 1, and Safina should be back in Russia milking underfed goats. Nothing new really, but I guess I’ll throw in my 2 pieces of lint.  It’s sad really to think that someone can be so stupid and rich at the same time, but it’s pretty much the American way, and I’m sure it’s the only way I’ve kept my head afloat.  By her line of thinking nothing is contigent on time or where you happen to be at any given moment.  She claims she’s number 1 and deserves the number 1 seed because she has 10 grand slam titles that she’s won years ago.  Safina on the other hand has won 52 to Serena’s 38 matches thus far this year. Now of course, if Safina were to play Serena tomorrow I wouldn’t fly to Vegas (I usually take greyhound anyway), waltz in like a boob and put money on Safina. But there needs to be a system and I can’t see how the WTA can base their rankings on who has the most titles on the active roster. Maybe they could just base their rankings on who has the biggest blackest ass. In that case, yes, Serena, you are number 1.   I’ll be back Thursday night as I need to just hunker down and smoke a giant bowl of tennis.

Oh, and the winner of the caption contest is no one as no one submitted anything. I guess 69 just wasn’t in the cards. Thanks, dicks.

For the first time I’m gonna come at you with something fresh, something new, something your parents are probably plugging their ears about right now: I’m going to cover day 1 having witnessed no more than 1 hour of play. Fuck watching tennis, especially day 1 of the US Open (brought to you by tiny, confused children clutching even tinier racquets to their pubeless chests).  Like statutory rape it reeks of obviousness. And besides, some buttmunch stopped the recording on my DVR to record a cooking show.  So whatever, I’m sure me making fun of the opening (night) ceremonies is way better than watching Devvaman sweep Gil in straights.

First on the docket for the honorable Tennisburger, does Mary Jo Fernandez have lips, and if so, where are they? You know you tan too much when your face is the same color as your lips.  You also know you tan too much if you’ve faked tanned once and your last name ends in dez.  Either way I’m strangely aroused.

Second on the docket, does Mayor Bloomburg have a row of upper teeth and while I’m asking myself questions, did Bloomburg used to do voice-overs for action movie trailers?  It doesn’t matter as I’ve already forgotten what I was talking about.

When did NY become so gay? Marines with flags? Robin Roberts? I know tennis is pretty gay but I was hoping NY would rough it up a bit. Give it a little purple rouge if you nahtamean.  Toss her down the stairs. Toughen the leather. That type of shit. Instead tennis is invited over to NY’s child pornography den to be introduced by tweens in yellow shirts, old ladies with buck teeth, Andre Aaggaassii crying all over the goddamn joint, Doug “Who the Hell am I and Who the Fuck Invited Me Here” Flutie and again, Robin Roberts delivering a presedential campaign speech in her pajamas.  Thanks NY, but I’d rather we forego the teary eyed speeches about cancer (at one point I was trying to figure out who deserved to be at the US Open more, Doug Flutie or cancer*) and watch some of the most yawn-inducing 1st round tenn…..ooooOOOOHHHH, I get it. It’s like when Bon Jovi used to go on tour. You don’t have Sebastian Bach open for you ’cause he (obviously) rocks harder than you, so you go with __________(sorry, I’m really too young and cool to finish this metaphor on my own, so your sorry old ass can go ahead and fill in that line with whatever band opened for Bon Jovi when they came through your decrepit hometown). Anyway, I get it. But that still doesn’t help me understand why they subjected those kids to those speeches (about cancer no less).  Can you imagine being one of those dozens of multi-racial boys/girls who were forced to listen to that stuff? I did, and I just fell asleep. Who knew bettering lives could be so boring? At some point when an old person was going on about tears I grabbed the remote, unleashed a wild fart into the woods of my britches and fast forwarded that crap to view this crap…

Venus went down in the 1st set to a woman who may or may not be a woman, I’m really not that qualified to make such distinctions when it comes to thee, how do you say, Russian babes? She pulled it out as we all like to say from time-to-time. Her chances of getting to the finals is about as likely as I am to be somebody.

Kendrick, the oldest man on the planet who still hasn’t figured out how to wear a baseball hat properly is into the 2nd after beating, presumably an infant from Argentina with no eyes and a pool of urine for legs, 6-3, 6-2, 6-2.  He faces Haaaaaaas and shortly after he’ll probably be facing many vodka Red Bulls at a hotel bar in Queens, speaking of urine for legs, A-O!

Mattek shocked the 8 people who watch and/or follow 1st round women’s tennis by getting into the 2nd round by beating Benesova 6-3, 6-4. I know I’ve said this before but let me stand in awe of our awesome lameness that is our tennis knowledge. Why do we know that’s an upset? Pathetic. Our souls must be filled with a huge void where real love and emotions go.

The first cry session/retiree raised the white flag today, obviously due to over-exerted googley eyes. Vania King of the US retired, up 2-1 in the 1st.

Googleus Eyeus

Googleus Eyeus

Speaking of funny pictures. I meant to make fun of the ass hats in this photo (below, I’ve already made fun of the one above). They were, I believe one of the finalists to make the Cincy doubles championships (couldn’t tell you if they won or not as doubles makes me break out into hives). Anyhoo, please submit a caption to me, either to tennisburger@gmail.com or in the comments section below, and I swear to Monfils (wherever he may be) that the winner will receive something in the mail. It won’t be poop. It may actually be something cool and tennis related. I will judge based on how vile and offensive your submission is.  Also note, cuss words usually makes the funny go ’round. If you send me a pic of said great thing in the mail I’d also like to publish it to prove to my girlfriend that someone reads this goddamn thing as I’ve been promised a 2 minute 69 sesh (in the light!).

Nes_Zim_Sat.ashx

MeusburgerrrrrrrRRRR!!!! Get out of the 1st round just once and I’ll give you an oily handjob.  And update that dang bio photo of yours. Meusburger is downed by Schiavone 6-1, 6-2.

Meusburger now known as just Meus

Meusburger now known as just Meus

Maria Jose Martinez Sanchez wins my burger award for the day due to her awesome name and knocking out Sybil “Don’t Gimme No Bammer Weed” Bammer in straights. Seriously, you should look up this MJMS too, cute as a Spanish button.

Speaking of cute buttons, anyone else ready to see Oudin? Not sure if she plays Tuesday or Wednesday, but I’m sure it’ll be a Chubday.

I didn’t get to see any of Donald Young but it sounded like he was really off his game from the excerpts I read. If anyone can tell me how many racquets he broke, or how many times he dropped the Motherfucker bomb I’d gladly appreciate it.  Sad to see that kid go so early (opposed to seeing Isner stay so early, in, surprise, tiebreaks no less…. Hanescu!!!), although, it was Robredo, not exactly chopped liver as moms used to say n’ serve.

Also weird to see Paul Henri-Mathieu out so early, and to Youzhny no doubt.  The score looked pretty lop-sided at 2-6, 7-5, 6-0, 6-2.  I’m guessing it was Mathieu that imploded this time? If I my tin foil hat wasn’t at the cleaners I’d seriously consider putting it on right now. Weird.

Blake, into the 2nd. Well done, Blake, finally something to write home about from the US Open aside from asking how to properly apply sun screen to your face.  It’s like playing with yourself silly; steps 1-whatever: rub.

Oh yeah, and Dirty Dick beat Phau the “German” in straights. Looks like the Americans have something to hang their hat on already. I’d hang onto that hat hanger as I foresee a Swiss and Serbian hat hanger thief in their immediate future. Just sayin’.

Hopefully Day 2 will be filled with less cancer n’ babies, and more tennis (*raises scotch glass to giant spider on the wall*).  We really could a use man around here to beat tennis into shape a bit.

*Cancer won out in a landslide

Hot Off The Toilet

The Daily Dump or The Turd Chronicles

The Turd Chronicles

I would’ve crapped my pants if I had enough power to propel my poo through the toilet and into my pants which were lying around my ankles while reading this month’s edition of Inside Tennis.  If you look on the left page you’ll see an ad for the Bryan brothers and their new (*ha!*) band.  I’m sure you can all guesstimate how rockin’ two white doubles tennis players are.  On the scale of most bitchin’ I’m sure they lie somewhere between Graf Orlock and Kowloon Walled City.  Don’t believe me? Check out this awesome video . Apparently 25 seconds is all the camera man could take, and I really don’t blame him.  Those jams were so groovy, how could one not put down the camera and let the music move you? And the ad for their band makes them look like the Mervyn’s (R.I.P.) catalogue boys they are.  They’re standing on a tennis court, and it’s all cracked with weeds coming up and shit. You can’t play on that! You guys are fucking crazy! And they’re wearing all black n’ shit.  I wouldn’t fuck with these guys if I ran into ’em at Crate and Barrel on a Sunday afternoon after my church’s potluck, that’s for damn show.

In other boring ass news, the Williams brothers bought a piece of the Me-Ah-Me Dolphins. I don’t watch football as I haven’t had a lobotomy yet, but I’m sure this is news to someone.

Cincinnati Chili

Cincinnati Chili

Cool as an electric turquoise cucumber, Roger Federer dismantled the Serbian Brainiac amidst hundreds of gassy Cincinnati tennis fans.  There was a thick, pungent smell of ass in the air as Number 1 calmly took the tennis out of the boy in straights, steam rolling a Cleveland steamer (Cinci style) he had laid on Screech’s chest in the first.  I’m all for breakthrough performances (see Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost, or God in The Bible), but taking Screech over his knee as if he was the 3rd fetus to escape from Mirka’s thigh trap was down right embarassing.  Why don’t we take a closer, more smelly gander at said thrashing, for, if Christianity has taught us anything, it’s that Sunday, if not all days, is a day to glorify violence (and drink wine) in the morning.

I’m not sure what’s stronger, the Cincinnati unemployment rate or Screech’s backhand, but if we took both to the carnival and had them smash that giant hammer to see who could ring the bell something tells me neither would leave the hay-strewn field with that classy, over-sized, neon blue panda bear.  In the beginning Monfils created the heaven and the earth Federer (by the way, at what point is spell check going to recognize the word “Federer” as a word?) introduced his up-the-line forehand to Djoke’s backhand net shot.  Neither was pretty, but one wasn’t pretty in the way that bad used to mean good, and the other wasn’t pretty in that it wasn’t pretty, ala your older sister on prom night.  If I was Federer, which I am, I would’ve chained my forehand to Djoke’s backhand like a filthy hippie chains himself to more filty hippies to protest a large prescription waste management company in Florida. It didn’t go that way so the match lasted 34 tacos.

Did anyone see the sign that guy was holding, sitting at the top of the stadium?  “Roger is _ock!”? At first I thought the ‘o’ was an ‘a’, which of course would’ve been “back.” Not the case my unemployed friend.  I immedieately thought “cock” for some reason, but that wouldn’t make sense no matter which way you smoked it.  So what does that leave us with? Well: Bock, Dock, Jock, Hock, Lock, Mock, Pock, Rock and Sock.  I’m just gonna go on believing that the fan who made the sign is mentally ill and believes that Roger Federer is indeed a sock.

Also, I’d like to make it be known that I’d like to see more shots of slow, old, very white, ladies with very white hair aimlessly searching for their seat while the world’s number 1 tennis player in the world waits for said bag of nearly buried bones to sit her cauliflower ass down.  You just know that shit happens more often than we see, not unlike cum in your IHOP pancakes. Consider this my coming out party.  I indeed like to see old women who can’t walk or see, hold up foreigners. If I can somehow work this fetish into the bedroom.

Was Carlos Bernardes wearing tennis tennis shoes?  Wouldn’t flip-flops suffice. If you think about it, as a chair umpire you’re more closely related to the lifeguard species than you are an actual tennis player, so I say dress like it.  I mean, you’re in a high chair, run with it.  Bring a fucking whistle up there, and a towel, and put some of that sun screen (black people get burned too) on. Put a lot of it on your nose, like when dude from Nerds went to the beach with all his bros to score some grade A wizard sleeve. Hell, I’d even like to see one of those floatable red banana looking thingies that all those 80 year-old botox beauties were running around with on (man)Boobwatch.

I'll be a sonofabitch if dude on the far right isn't a CGI porcupine with a broken neck

I'll be a sonofabitch if dude on the far right isn't a CGI porcupine with a broken neck

I have a lot of shit to talk about off the court ’cause not a lot was going on on the court.  Take for instance this:

In the third game Federer had a sweet dunker to draw in Screech to unleash an even better volley to get break point. At this point it’s 3-0 and I’ve got a case of the turds from last night’s pork fest (which I ATE).

See.

If Federer was a 6 year-old boy and you asked him what the score of the match was his response may have been, “it’s 4-0 and 3 quarters,” or “4-0 and 5 sixteenths.” Like any young lad, eager to get older he makes it 5-0 in no time.  At some point, presumably not while serving or returning serve, Screech changed his shirt which gave us all a glimmer of hope, namely those of us who sweat a lot and feel very self-conscious about it. One for the little, sweaty guy.

The first point of the 7th game had both players more stretched out than ____________________ ‘s (insert ex-girlfriend’s name here) legs at a Louisville slugger hiding contest.  It was so stretched out I was envisioning tennis in widescreen, then thinking of all the milliseconds I’ve missed due to players who’ve run out of the shot, then thinking of taking a dump, then back to the tennis for a little while, then way back to my first girlfirend Lisa Fernandez who would hold my hand, but wouldn’t hold anything else, then tennis again, but it was blury due to all of the man tears in my eyes which were undoubtedly due to me being so fucking manly that my body had to expell the over abundance of testosterone somehow, no matter how ironic.

Fed wins the first set in a toenail biter, 6-1.  If I wasn’t stealing my cable I’d demand my money back from my neighbor who I’m not stealing from my cable from.  Seriously, whenever I hear commercials talking about “my cable provider” I initially wonder how they know Kong, my landlord/neighbor/cable provider.

Screech started the 2nd set strong holding, then breaking Grand Master Turqoise to go up 2-0. He then did something else good and it was 3-0.  Roger then woke up from his slumber, handed the baby walkie talkies to Mirka and raced back to even the playing field, or court in this matter.

I finally take notice of those incompetent commentators when Ion Eagle (tennis’ version of that slimy English guy on Mad Men whose name I do not know as I’ve only recently been forced to watch this show by my gf, along with millions of other penisless boyfriends who begrudginly admit that the show is actually really good), dropped the “it could be over bomb” with Screech down 30-40.   Djoke serves and Eyeon Eagle blurts something about it possibly being over for the Serb.  Goin’ out on a limb, eh Ion? Yah think Federer might win this match, eh?  Federer fucks the shit out of Djoke’s second serve and at the same moment a small bit of love cream seeped from Ion’s incredibelly smelly, bespectacled man vagina. He eventually doesn’t get the money shot he’s hoping for though as Djoke jolds.

Ion declares a break point for screech at 15-30, up 5-4. I’m not a mathematician (I don’t even know what math is really) but
it didn’t matter though as Federer served his way out of a wet, Serbian paper bag to hold at 5-5.

Anyone else amused by the sight of Swiss flags (or Serbian for that matter) being waved in downtown Cincinnati, a town that believes that not only do spaghetti, chili and cheddar cheese belong on the same plate, but that they belong in your mouth at the same *gag* time?

Fed broke Djreech at 5-5, then to no one’s surprise held to win whatever kind of weird looking trophy the city of Cinci had dreamt up while high on chilighetti.

I’ll pass on the review of the Big Bird Beatdown Dementia handed to Sharapova thank you very much.