Deuce!

I love Wimbledon – all tennis, actually. I look forward to it every year. In fact, I fancy myself an all-around sports fan. I am by no means a jock - my lack of grace precludes much sporting ability, but I really enjoy sports... football, baseball, tennis, I even watched the Stanley Cup and Daytona 500 this year - hey, it has been a rainy spring. I never would have thought I would turn into such a meathead, but it has been an evolution that really began at WVU (where you cannot avoid football games, they are religious experiences) and during the Steelers’ nineties run.

Look (do you suppose Obama can trademark that?), I consider myself a well-rounded individual, devouring juicy information from all over, be it news, music, culture (both low and high), and politics; and if I left out sports I would be missing out on a huge chunk of life!

I stayed up until 1 AM last night watching the greatest O’s comeback of all time against the hated Red Sox. It was truly awesome. And today, on another slow work day, I am listening to the live radio feed from Wimbledon at my desk, thoroughly charmed by the British commentators, who are so much more interesting and inappropriate than their puritanical American counterparts. While discussing the Roddick-Hewitt match, the commentator just asked for someone to “bring ‘round the hot chocolate” if the match goes to a fifth set.

I do, however, miss my favorite player this year, Rafael Nadal, as he is injured and not in the tournament. I miss him mostly because the commentary that accompanies his matches is always so... colorful. The announcers are in complete awe of Rafa’s arms, and their admiration of his physique is sometimes downright creepy – but always entertaining.




In other slow work day happenings, I twittered about bowel movements and suddenly all sorts of people are following me, including David Alan Grier – WTF??? Do you think people have some sort of twitter alerts, so that if key words, like poop, are part of tweets they get notified? I know about trending topics, but I really can’t imagine poop being a topic that could out-trend Michael Jackson, Sanford, and Al Franken. It would be really funny if it could, huh? Because no matter how old, well-rounded, or mature you are, a good poop joke will reduce you to a nine-year-old in a matter of seconds.