Anna and the Fling

On this Friday night, I come to conclusion that my readers are refusing to comment in an effort to destroy my self-esteem. But this is a war of attrition and I will be damned if I let them win. So don't leave any comments. See if I care.

On this same Friday night, I decide not to go out with friends. Mostly because my lats are sore and I can't lift my arms above my shoulders. Coach had me practicing overheads for the better part of two hours. I says to coach, "But I'm a baseliner..." And coach scoffs at me and ignores my ridiculous pleas. So here I am, struggling to put on a shirt, wondering how I am going to wash my hair.

Normally all of this would be enough to bring me down, but I am still in good spirits. Sister is coming to visit from the West Coast for the next two weeks. I have cleared my schedule so we can go eating all day and all night and spend her money.

Also, I am thinking of the brief conversation I had with Anna Kournikova on Wednesday during her mixed doubles match. She got into a bit of a scuffle with Justin Gimmelstob, the resident fat asshole of the men's tour. In an interview last month, he had this to say about her, "She's a bitch... I wouldn't mind having my younger brother, who's a kind of a stud, nail her and then reap the benefits of that." But she turns to me and says with her extremely cute barely there Russian accent, "this guy has no fucking class..." I was quite pleased when she decided to hit a ball right at his face. Anyway, she was very nice (to the fans), surprisingly tall (5'8"), and still much more beautiful than that Maria Sharapova (much much more). If she wanted to have sex with me, I wouldn't say no. But I would have to make it clear to her that it is only a one time thing.


I lied, please comment.