Pimple? Cyst? Acne Cyst? My guess is during the press conferences at Monte Carlo, no one will ask him what's goin' on. Can you imagine, "Roger, did Mirka hit you? Do you need help?" No direspect meant here, I'm just trying to be cheeky. And I like his pimple, like I like Karlovic's stutter, like I love Gabashvili's acne scars- as you all know, from reading posts that touch on those matters. I love the weaknesses in tennis players- I love when these fine specimens show their humanity.
But I hate when my DVR shows its humanity. It didn't record the whole six and a half hours. Regardless, I sit here at cocktail hour, watching Federer hold to make it 3/2, on serve, in the third.
Now, again, because you all know how I feel about David, I am a little irritated with him for not winning the second set and for not beating Federer for the 9th time by winning the second set. But- I am also not surprised! Nalby not closing it out? No surprise there. I love him, I hate him, he frustrates me, and so on and so forth.
But one thing I must share with you all. You think- she just sits there watching tennis whilst drinking cocktails. But actually, in the room where I watch tennis, there is a major crisis. The overwhelming smell of cat pee and - ok, this is gross, cat poo - has been ruining our week. I have two very old cats. Fifteen years old, the two of them, brothers. And we can't find WHERE IT IS. I mopped, I scrubbed, I cleaned the window, I went through the closet - I sniffed the goddamn bookshelf - where oh where is it?
I've lit scented candles. I've done everything. I give up. I am instead watching Nalby getting broken here in the sixth game. Someone called out, from the crowd? That's what the commentators say? That's his excuse for getting broken? Goddamn.
OK. I leave you now to be mad while I watch the rest of this match.