Saturday, September 03, 2005

Fuck wondering where Andy's Mojo is...


Where is mine?!

Ah, American Express must be so pissed. And working in advertising, I feel I can laugh.

Gives the ad campaign new meaning, huh?


And a big thank you to one of our vendors who got us tickets to the US Open on Tues. Yes, the infamous Tues where Roddick got his ass kicked by some kid from Luxembourg (out of all places) who, to add insult to injury, got kicked out of round 2, Muller. Besides that game making me want to give tennis lessons another try (the public camp that I went to when I was like 8-12 really didn’t do an adequate job teaching me how to play, especially since my parents were too cheap to buy me a racquet like all the North Shore LI kids had, damn excuse of having to buy 4 of them—one for each child. No, I don’t think my parents believed in condoms or else my mother would not have turned us out like puppies), I have officially crossed over into the bourgeois lifestyle of enjoying watching tennis.

My newfound love of tennis, however, is a massive contradiction to my blue collar LI/Queens/Brooklyn parents’ heavily thickly accented lifestyle. Those of you who are not familiar with LI/the surrounding suburbs, this is an area of new money. I shop at Loehmann’s, my parents have such thick accents that it is comical, they wanted me to take tennis lessons so I could be bourgie. But that is the area and I have to say, I love new money values of ostentation and name dropping. New money wanting to give their kids the things that they didn’t have growing up. And you know what? That, my dear friends, is the American dream in a nutshell.

Tennis with LI accents.

Or so I thought.

I thought Americans had made tennis more democratic. Especially the US Open, one of the most notoriously rude and obnoxious tournaments in the grand slam

http://www.newyorkmagazine.com/guides/usopen/12525/index.html

I mean, this article made me proud to be a NYer, occasional accent slip up included.

Imagine my surprise when I get to the open, expecting to hear my people, my fellow NYers, possibly even new money-ers, and I see that the court refs (I do not know what they fuck they are called), are BRITISH. Now I know that it is a British game, and the accents add an aura of faux-class to an otherwise obnoxious open, but…they are British.

I am not going to lie, when I heard the refs speak, all of those years that I spent, coming to terms with my LI accent, flew out the window. Are my accented people not good enough to ref the fucking US Open?! Will I always be white trash to the posh Brits (yes, who the fuck am I kidding, I shop at Loehmann’s for God sake)?! I just think that the refs should have been from the NYC area, to add a little regional flair, “Ahnd naow Dae-van-porrht ver-sus Lee”

Although, I have to admit, despite the accents the crowd owned the fucking Open. For the Men’s match, the ref gave up trying to quiet down the crowd’s cheers of "Roddick," the asses in the nose bleeds who kept on yelling how they “Love Andy Roddick!!” Even the guys were in love with Andy. I was slightly disappointed when I did not see panties being thrown into the court. NYers, like all things that we do, owned the fucking tourney. I even heard cell phones ringing.

But, interestingly, on the women’s side of things during the Davenport Vs. Li match, it wasn’t as crazy. Perhaps it is because women’s tennis is not as exciting, or, what I think, Davenport isn’t as charismatically good-looking as Roddick. Although, as Americans, and especially as NYers we are obsessed with the underdog…however, we are only obsessed with the underdog when there is beauty associated with it. That beauty being either physical (which applies in this case) or the beauty of the human spirit. Davenport just doesn’t have that, hence no cheers, no people flashing the crowd in an effort to root her on. Her story just isn’t beautiful enough for mass-consumption.

In other not so ‘woah I am soooo serious’ news, I have a confession to my readers. I have a blog crush/intrigue with http://onelifetaketwo.blogspot.com

Yes, it is a sex blog, but I am absolutely intrigued by the way he writes. And considering my track record with men, it also doesn’t hurt that he is a self proclaimed bisexual. But, what I find intriguing is how people could disconnect, having sex with someone who you like and find attractive and not inadvertently fall for them. Take away the Jewish and Catholic guilt, I wonder if I could ever be capable of partaking.

And lastly, in other news, I am fung shui-ing/putting up mizzouzas/burning sage/having someone come in and bless my new apt because ever since I moved in, I have had serious health problems. First I was in the hospital with viral meningitis and then a few days ago I was back in the ER (this time at St. Vincents) because I thought I was going into anapalastic shock since my cheek doubled in size but instead turned out to be a BLOCKED SALIVA GLAND. Who the fuck gets that?! Do you know what kind of hyper-chondriac schmuck I looked like when I went back to the office an hour later, having to tell everyone that it was a dental issue and that I wasn’t dying?! Especially when I had tears in my eyes before I ran to the hospital because I thought I was dying?!!?


Mysteriously, however, it healed itself when I went home to LI (aka fled the cursed apt). But I still have an appt with the oral surgeon (plus I need to get out my severely impacted wisdom teeth) to make sure that my cheek isn’t going to swell again. And not only am I now known as the office hypochondriac but, the dentist when he was looking at my swollen cheek was like, “It’s hard to tell because your face is so…full” Thanks. I know I have chubby cheeks. Why don’t you comment on my semi-Jew nose while you are at it?! Just when I was feeling hott from the meningitis diet.

But seriously, what the fuck could be next? Cancer? Alopecia?! I am afraid to sleep in my bedroom anymore, so I have taken to sleeping on the leather Ikea Klippan couch in the living room. Well until I Feng Shui/put up the mizzouza/burn sage/have someone come in a bless my apt.

Another fucking day.

And in better news, it is official. I have a gay boyfriend who I live with. Especially since we tell each other “I love you” before bed. And why would I ever date again?

1 Comments:

At 6:55 PM, Blogger Jefferson said...

A blocked saliva gland?

What have you had in your mouth?

Thanks for the kind words, Shandoll. I'll keep the debauchery warm for you.

 

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