Nalbandian versus Djokovic

I wish Ferrero had taken Nadal to a third set. Oh well. I love Rafa. I have a cat named Rafa. His named has since digressed to Waffleberry. But- his name really is Rafa.

David fucking Nalabandian. I basically started this blog because of him! And he's back after all that time away with his hip surgery. OH MY GOD. I... I love him. I think it is safe to say that he made me cry upon a few of his big wins. Cry tears of joy. When he won the year end championship against Federer? When he won Madrid and Paris, back to back? Oh man, I'm getting all choked up just thinking about it. He's so noble and polite and - no pushover - and Argentine and stoic and emotional and handsome and good at tennis and a choker and ......

I'm sipping on some Dominican rum. Rockytoad is on his way back from "band practice". Also, Rockytoad made the JV tennis team. We are proud. He's also grown six inches since I last posted- not yesterday- but the time before that.

Djokovic is interesting me here. I think he really really wants to win this. And he most likely will. He's hitting fabulously. As much as I'd like Nalbandian to win this match, and the French Open, and the presidential election, and the lottery, and so on, this has been a good run for him so recently healthy and having been gone so long. So, like, I'm trying to be happy for him. That said- what if he turns it around and wins this match!!?? I'll roll around on the floor, hugging myself.

Which brings me to- do guys only think about sex all the time? I was thinking about that recently. Like, does Nalbandian think about tennis a lot? Or while he's playing tennis, is he thinking about getting it on with his girlfriend later on? Like, is he imagining her naked body, or just thinking about tennis. I have some of the strangest thoughts when I play tennis. Some of those thoughts go like this, man, I'm hungover. Wow, how many cigarettes did I smoke last night. Ug, I don't feel very good. And so forth. I think it's safe to say Roddick maybe- just maybe- thinks about Brooklyn, his fiancee or whatever she is-- occasionally when playing tennis. Sort of like a carrot on a stick sort of thing (want to win this match, go home and nail her, oh, there in my head is a picture of her naked while I'm on this court, but it's OK, I can still play tennis). Of course, I could be wrong. Perhaps they focus better than I do when I play tennis. This is a serious possibility.

Yours Truly,
Paula

Monte Carlo!!!!!! 2009- and part 5 of why I love David Nalbandian

I've been watching a lot of tennis. I just watched Verdasco beat Kohlshreiber. It was boring to me, for some reason. Too "quiet"? First match of the day? Now we have Federer and the Viking-Swedish-looking-barbarian-hords-were-everywhere-Italian, Seppi. Will this be more exciting? I am feeling sleepy. I might take a tennis nap, written about here more elaborately. (Look! I learned how to imbed links! Yeah me!)

Someone asked why Nalbandian is on the top of my list of possible tennis lovers that I would have if life was perfect. Here is my answer of the day, which would be different on another day:

Love is a strange thing, unexplainable, mysterious, surprising, gorgeous, physically arousing and baffling and exciting and amazing and wierd and heart stopping and painful and heart wrenching. I love David Nalbandian. I love him! I think it might have to do with I think he looks like Rick Rock. Now, when I say that to people--(and I wrote about it here I think for the first time, yes! imbedded links rock)- when I say, I think Nalbandian looks like Rick Rock, they look at me like I am crazy. And, well, I am a little crazy. But, years ago, when I was first discovering my future life of a person who watches tennis all the time, Rick Rock and I were not getting along. So I projected all my love for Rick Rock onto Nalbandian, because Rick Rock was not accepting and reacting to my love and loving me back and so I just loved Nalbandian instead and he didn't disappoint me because he only lives in the television in my life! Really. Once, I had a boyfriend in college who was a complete asshole to me but I loved him but he wasn't receptive to my love in the right way, so I became obsessed with Al Pacino because I thought Al Pacino looked like my college boyfriend. So -Nalbandian has a big nose. He has close set, blue eyes. He has a little head in comparison to his body. He is, in my mind, a double to Rick Rock. And so, I love him. Now, the real question is, why do I love Rick Rock. That I cannot answer. Also, Nalbandian is infuriating- he loses when he shouldn't, wins when he shouldn't, is mystery itself embodied in a tennis player--and RR is infuriating too! I'm not sure I would call Rick Rock mysterious though. I have to think about that. But my love for him is surely as mysterious as Nalbandian's tennis behavior.

Anyway, Fed and Sep are on serve. Naptime? Hm.

Yours Truly,
Paula

My Buddy Ron Won This Trophy and- I'm Watching Tennis!

My buddy Ron won the this trophy. It is a FIRST place sort of trophy, for 4.0 USTA tennis! I am so impressed I am beside myself. Wow. Eveybody, give Ron a huge congratulations. I never have won a trophy in my life. I once won a 12th place ribbon for the vault in "regionals" in Indiana. I still have that ribbon.

Nalbandian lost the first set to whom? Lu? Who they say beat Murray in the Olympics. But Nalby is making errors and looks - unfocused. Irritated. Frustrated. I have him making it to the semis. I mean, the match is not over yet (on my DVRed TV, but in real life, it is most definitely over). I now watch with baited breath. My man Nalby. I am sending you love vibes through the universe and back in time to when you were actually playing this match-- as opposed to now, when you are, I don't know, in your hotel room-- and my love vibes go like this- "Win Win Win!!!"

I'm just glad they are showing Nalby. They were showing Fish. I much prefer Nalby. But I mostly prefer him winning.

Oh great relief! He won the second set!!! My back-in-time win vibes got recieved by Nalby!!!

Later:

Let's not even talk about what this is doing to my raquet bracket. Let's just say, my heart is broken. He tried hard there at the end. But I am miserable.

Sigh.

Yours Truly,

Paula