Losing The Human Touch

First let me preface this blog post by stating that I am far from perfect in what I am going to write about. Boy did I get my ass chewed out from my other half when he read my original version. I freely admit that I spend too much time text messaging and being on the internet. I do realize it is a problem, and I am trying to learn moderation myself.

With that said, let us all be honest. How difficult does it seem to have a good conversation with your buds around a dinner table nowadays? Is there much listening? Do you start a subject only to find that not one person around the table has even bothered to listen to what you just said? Has technology afflicted us all with A.D.D.?

I see this as a big problem in the gay community because we do love our gadgets. I would be so bold as to argue that cell phones, computers, and digital cameras diminish the quality of time we spend together.

While we so dearly embrace our technological marvel, I bet a friend sitting next to us would love something so simple as a hug. Even a smile from us may do. Think about that next time when you are out with your friends.

One more thing... don't let tricking online consume you. It is downright selfish. There is a time and a place for everything. But it shouldn't rule your world. Friends are forever. Your trick last night is not.

Don't Judge Me by my Baggage

Pardon me for a minute as I step up on my soap box. So, is that what you guys really think of me? I am the Mariah Carey of the blogworld? (rolling up sleeves) For anyone that has actually met me in person, they will tell you that I am NOT a Diva. I am far from it. I do not hang around Rap guys. My name is not lit up with high wattage lights when I parade around in skimpy outfits.

I am actually very considerate of others, nice, and agreeable to whatever. While some of you are outright bitchy, crazy, farty, drunky, slutty, etc... I am just me. Yes, I do pack excessively for a weekend, but I like to have variety and choices. So, there!

DC: Where the Penis, Power, and Money Rule

I am back in Louisiana, Y'all! I promise that this will be my last DC post. I think it is important to chronicle any travel with timely pictures and stories.

This was my second trip to DC in less than two months. I ended up staying at TJ and Rob's place over the weekend right as Homer was moving out. I didn't "bump" him out of there. He was scheduled to stay with Jimbo for the next two days.

Which goes right into a funny reference I heard. Am I really referred to as the Mariah Carey of the blog world?! Where does this come from? I guess the reputation is probably better than yours, so I am not fretting. And before any of you believe the nasty rumor that it took a crane to get my suitcase down to the guest suite, let me emphatically state that I used my own damn muscles.

Speaking of, I thoroughly enjoyed working out with TJ, Rob, and Carlos at the Results gym on Saturday. It was pretty easy to tell that Rob spends the most time at the gym. He could simply do more weights than the rest of us. But it may surprise you to know that TJ is sporting quite a nice figure too. Both were very knowledgeable in directing us into a great biceps and triceps workout routine.

That was one of the highlights of the trip. It may seem odd, but I actually enjoyed sharing the experience of something very routine like working out. There is something to be said for vacationing in another person's life. TJ and Rob make you feel very welcomed in their world. As long as they get their intimate time together, your comfort is their priority.

It is no secret that when I visit others, I don't have an agenda already fleshed out. I sort of ask, "What are we going to do today?" I DO feel embarrassed that I place that burden on others, but it is one of my quirks. I am not one of those traveling gays that has his dance card filled and only needs a place to rest his head.

I felt honored for them to include me in their circle of friends too. Carlos, their so called "house boy", was very entertaining to hang around with. He made me laugh and occasionally blew hot air up my skirt. We got to hit some tennis balls together on Saturday. And no, that's not code for anything.

I did get the opportunity to play a friend of theirs, named Greg, in a real tennis match yesterday. Whenever he would hit the ball out long, he shouted a long drawn out... "Noooooooooooooooooooooo....." as dramatic as Mr. Bill. It was so cute, that I tried to make him do it many times more. He did play very well, but I won the match 7-5, 6-2. Yes, I was a gracious winner. :)

You wouldn't know it by reading Homer's blog, but we DID meet this weekend again for the first time in two years. I can tell you that he does dance pretty well. As does Carl, who is not as goody-two-shoe as I once thought. Don't worry... you got mega points for that! It was a treat to see Jimbo be in rare form all weekend (as you can tell from the pictures). It was almost like we were watching soft-porn on a dance floor Saturday night. Way to make your own saliva pit big guy!

If you want to try a funny trick, try over tipping the cab drivers in DC. Everytime I had a fare that was like $10.56, I would give the cab driver a $20 bill and tell them to give me $5 back. You couldn't imagine the sheer panic you will cause the local DCers riding with you. It was quite hilarious. Apparently, they do not want you feeding the DC Cab drivers too much because they'll come to expect that in the future. I didn't know! I don't get to use cabs where I am from.

Thanks everybody, especially TJ and Rob, for making this boy from Louisiana feel welcomed in your home. I sure do appreciate your friendship. :) BTW -- We are going to host TJ and Rob in about five weeks for Southern Decadence in New Orleans.

You wont see this in the Metro-Weekly

Jimbo going to town at Town nightclub. Homer, Carl, and I danced among ourselves while the DC love birds made out all night. This was a really nice two level dance club. The place was packed with hot boys.

The Art of Fubbing

Greeting your furry friends with beard rubs feels great. TJ and I fubbed the second I came into the door yesterday. Unfortunately, this wasn't captured by the Paparazzi.

TJ and Homer Fubbing at a local Thai restaurant:


Brettcajun and Homer Fubbing at Cobalt:

I trimmed my beard a little this morning before I was set to hit tennis balls around with Carlos. TJ is pictured here Fubbing me for "good luck". His beard smelled a little like ass:

The Day Before the Fubbing

Psst... bloggers are part of a secret cult. It's true. Scientologists have their secrets that are shared only as you climb up the organization. Bloggers are no different. Once you achieve over 1,000 posts and are linked by a butt load of others... it is time. The Fubbing will commence tomorrow afternoon. I have allowed my beard to go bushier than normal just for this sacred ritual.

QI

My days have been wrecked from the utter humiliation. I had to chew on the fact that maybe I am just not very smart after all. Sure, I graduated from the best God damned football university in the country. But my education couldn't stop my Scrabulous losing streak at the hands of the devil.

Each crushing defeat brought taunts from him. My embarrassing record was widely publicized for all to see. Even I began to doubt myself. I couldn't sleep at night with visions of another loss looming. My frequent visits to a sanctuary in time of crises, a mirror, reflected back someone calling me "dummy!" time and time again. Et Tu, Brute?

The more I played, the closer I got to finally ending the horrible losing streak. My strategy was honed to conserve and not feed the beast. But he would always pull out a stunning victory while in the jaws of imminent defeat. My inability to stop the bleeding made me doubt the very fiber of my being.

That is until I found 気, the ancient Chinese symbol for "QI". It was my secret weapon that would lead me to victory. The philosophical concept of "QI" dates back to the earliest record in Chinese thinking. According to Wikipedia, Qi is analogous to be the life-process or “flow” of energy that sustains living beings.

Qi has been devastatingly effective in helping me defeat the devil in six of our last seven Scrabulous matches. The mere mention of Qi will probably draw hisses from his serpent tongue.

I now proudly sport a spiffy 8-6 all time record against him. :) I think I'll print this ancient Chinese symbol and bring it with me to D.C. just in case I have anymore trouble.

Washington D.C. Blogger Getaway

Yes, it's true. I will be arriving in Washington D.C. this Friday afternoon. I'll be staying all weekend through Monday morning. Once there, I'll be staying at the Durban Bud B&B. It's a special boutique hotel specializing in rim jobs and exotic latin pool boys.

I can't wait to plug in my special black light to find all the spooge spots. How much do you want to bet it's all over TJ's laptop? LOL. I'll try to do a special investigative video and post it on my blog. Of course, he'll probably blame every incriminating spooge spot on this guest staying just prior.  

Once there, I can't wait to give TJ & Rob a big FUB. It'll be nice to see Jimbo again, meet Archer for the first time, and see who is the most fierce dancer out of Carl and Leo. I also know that there may be a surprise guest or two pop into town the same weekend. But I am not spilling the beans. It'll be a surprise! :)

By the way, I have heard some grumblings from other bloggers about me going back to D.C. Trust me... it's a lot easier to go to metro areas with a great many of you in one geographic area. Without another Blogger summit, traveling to see all of you can be expensive. Please be patient. We are all one big fraternity and you are all my buds. I will be thrilled to see you soon. I promise. ;)

R.I.P. Myrtle (April 2, 2006 - July 18, 2008)

It is with great sadness that I must announce the passing away of Myrtle the chicken. My blog made her an international star with lesbians and the right-to-life crowd. Myrtle tried in vain to be a setting hen. After giving her two tries to hatch eggs into little baby chicks, I had to break the news to her that Rocky was shooting blanks.

Myrtle will always be remembered for not minding getting a little dirty. While the other hens laughed at her setting obsession, Myrtle would always turn the other beek. She fought tirelessly and in vain to be a mother.


Myrtle was born on April 2, 2006. Pictured here are the baby chicks adopted from the local feed and supply store. Myrtle is one of the gold chicks shown in the picture.


E.Shrew found Myrtle dead half way under the hen house this morning. He promptly buried her under an old oak tree on the farm. If you wish, you may pay your respects to Myrtle here.

Really Deep Thoughts

The History Channel's The Universe continues to compel me to watch in wicked and warped fascination. Science and physics are explained visually through computer simulations and through various experts in the field.

The coolest part is seeing infrared satellite photographs showing the most fascinating places deep into space. It leaves me in awe. Thanks to the series, I now have a much better understanding of the universe and our own milky way galaxy.

I couldn't help but realize just how insignificant my own life is on Earth when I am presented with the grand scheme of the universe. I was not around in the beginning of time, and I'll be no where around near the end. I will die never knowing the answer to life's greatest mystery of "Why?". Neither will you.

All I can do now is live out the rest of my life with the simple pleasures. They do tend to change over time.

Some may appear petty. Like for instance, rooting for the LSU Tigers to badly beat the gayest team in the SEC (the Auburn Tigers) at Jordan-Hare Stadium in 2008 may not be important to you. But it is to me.

At least tennis gives me a variety of experiences when I play against others. There will always be a better tennis player somewhere. You can spend your whole tennis career improving your game until the day you die. But you'll never be the greatest. Not even close.

Which brings me to my point. Are we just born to go through the motions of life and do our best to survive our brief time here? If that's reality, then what is the point? There has to be more to our existence, right?

What are the simple pleasures that keep your existence meaningful?

Hallelujah!

It may surprise you, but I am a spiritual person. Being spiritual feels good to my soul. It brings me to a peaceful place when times get rough. There is a comfort there that is hard to describe. Having a belief in God feels much like being in the comfort of the womb to where I was once protected.

I know it's trendy among homosexuals to profess to not believe in God. I can understand the resentment built up against organized religion. Who wants to be where they are not wanted? Nowadays, you'll only find me in Church if there is a wedding or a funeral.

But it hasn't shakened my faith. I couldn't imagine living in a world without him. God listens when there is no one else around. He knows my inner most thoughts, feelings and secrets. I feel that God is always showing me the right path. If only I paid attention to the clues sooner, I would eventually find my way.

With that said, I honestly felt that God taught me a great lesson last night. It is true that my need to win has been quite the bane to my existence. It defines me as a person when it shouldn't. Losing just crushes my spirit. Let me tell you, I have had my spirit crushed so many times in tennis lately.

While my peers were all having some degree of success with their Lady partners, I was losing every match with Elaine. I am one of the strongest players in the men's league, yet I was failing miserably in the mixed doubles league. I had been beaten so many times into submission that I no longer felt the pangs of losing anymore. I had become numb to the pain. I dare say that I reached a point where winning no longer mattered to me. GASP! Blasphemy!

When I finally reached that point where I would be at peace whether I won or loss, Elaine and I pulled a miracle win. We made a spectacular comeback after the other team had three match points in the second set. It was as if Angels were guiding our racquets and blowing wind beneath our feet.

We are now sporting a 1-5 record in the league and I am actually quite proud of it. Hallelujah! :)

Where, Oh Where is our Shepherd?

There is not a day that goes by that I don't feel vindicated by my convictions. Even if I have my own special way of expressing my political views, you cannot fault me for not feeling passionate about it. I know in my heart that I share the same feelings as others who are too afraid to speak up.

Tell me dear reader... where is the excitement in Obama's Presidential campaign? Where has it gone? The baa-baa-baaing of the sheep is but a faint chorus of what it used to be. Has the loud ass kissing sounds made towards conservative voters drowned out the baaing of the sheep?

Forgive me for asking, but is Obama now doing what Hillary was ridiculed for? Hillary was booed and hissed for staking her aim for the middle of the political spectrum. Obama is now doing the same thing. How in good conscience can you fault Hillary, yet look the other way when Obama is doing it? I am real curious how your conscience flip flops and is now just peachy keen with it!

When will Obama put some excitement back onto the ticket by picking Hillary Clinton as his Vice President? There was no need to pick Hillary when Obama had a substantial poll lead. But now the glow is fading. It is quite embarrassing to watch Obama's poll numbers dive against the dullest political opponent since Bob Dole.

I say it is time to put back some excitement on the ticket and pick Hillary Clinton as Vice President. Without Hillary, many will defect to McCain for the comfort of his experience. You should all heed my warning before you get disappointed come election time.

Rafi Who?

Forget about Rafael Nadal. My eyes are only for Roger Federer. Simply woofilicious. He may lose his #1 ranking, but he is still #1 in my heart. Federer is one beautifully handsome man. SMOOCH. SLURP. NIP TUGS.

Who's Afraid of the Muffin Top?

Not me! Aint no muffin top here! Don't roll your eyes. Uh huh. Yes... you. This is a rare moment where I have successfully maintained the pudge OFF my waiste-line for quite some time. I totally attribute this to an addiction to tennis. Lord knows I am a food whore pigging out at Taco Bell every week. Go ahead. Click on the pics. You can almost lick me.

My Experience Playing Scrabulous

I have really come to enjoy Facebook. It has just the right pace for me. It is not annoying like other places to hangout on the internet (myspace, twitter, etc). Recently, I have been battling out a couple of very well-known bloggers in Scrabulous on Facebook. It was a good way to pass the time without losing my moral values.

I was soon locking horns with this super closet-competitive queen. I call him "closet-competitive" because you really only see the devil when playing a game with him. He made ME shudder each time he kicked my ass with multiple 70 point "bingos". A bingo in Scrabulous is when you can use all 7 letters in your online tray. It is basically like a kick to the balls because you fall WAY behind.

Playing Durban Bud was initially going to be a mind trip. I swear to God, I didn't have a competitive bone in my body when I sent TJ the request to join me in a Scrabulous game. I was just really curious what playing a game with TJ would be like. This was sort of like a class project. When the game began, TJ began making predictable words like "buttsex", "anal", "prude" and "astroglide". I wasn't surprised.

What did take me by surprise was the titty-fit that ensued when I scored MEGA POINTS on his ass for the word "QI" twice. Oh my Effing God. You should have seen the temper tantrum. He folded his arms, pooched out his pouty lip, and called me a "cheater". What a fucking baby!

Obviously, if the Scrabulous creators let me create that word... then it was okay. It doesn't even matter that I didn't know what "QI" meant at the time either! For those that need to know, QI means "the natural energy of the Universe" and it is synonymous with "CHI". Who the fuck cares if I would never use it in a sentence?! It's just a game TJ! Gawd.

So, you have to be careful who you choose to play the game with. It can bring out some ugliness with those whom you consider the tightest of buds. God forbid you get another blogger bud's panties in a knot.

For the record, I have beaten Homer a total of three times. In fact, recently I beat him twice in one day! He has since NOT challenged me to play another game because defeat must have been one bitter wad to swallow. Bwahaha! EVIL GRIN.

The Nightmare of Madonna's Gyrating Pelvis

I am a huge Madonna fan, but I must say this could be her WORST video ever. Why? It's her small gyrating pelvis. You can't help but stare at it the entire time while watching the video. Go ahead. TRY to look at Madonna's hair or face and see where your eyes gravitate to. 

This must be EXACTLY how Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's pelvises look like when they dance around showing off their high fashioned big money coochies too. 

Obviously, this video is not very gay friendly. Did Madonna consult a gay person before releasing this official version of the video? Obviously not! Maybe I am just being too critical. Afterall, she has been the most gay friendly artist of all time. What do YOU think of Madonna's new video "Give it to Me"?

E.Shrew Guest Post: "Pavlov's Dog"

Have you ever heard of Pavlov’s dog? Well if you haven’t, Pavlov was a Russian scientist who was credited for describing classical conditioning. In a typical experiment, he manipulated the incentives occurring before the presentation of food…. like a bell. You ring a bell every time a juicy steak is fed to a dog and it becomes conditioned to getting steak when hearing the bell. He hears the bell, runs excitedly and starts to salivate in anticipation of the juicy steak.

So I have been cohabitating with Brett now for 101 days (who’s counting) and have come to realize Brett is Pavlov’s dog. Brett loves his dachshunds. He dances, sings and sleeps with them as we all know from the most recent tragic pee incident. But sometimes they are a bit much as they constantly demand attention. Just this morning, Brett was bitching and moaning how he longed for an uppity dog like Jack E. Shrew. (the Schnauzer pictured below)



You see... Jack is very well trained. I walk in the door and he kisses me passionately. He patiently waits for me to get settled. Then I decide to let him chase the chickens, toss a ball and give him a treat.

But what I noticed is Boudreaux and Pierre have Brett very trained. They start dancing up and down, running in circles and howling. Brett immediately cocks his head whimpers, “I love my babies” and administers a doggie treat. The dogs wink at each other.

Boudreaux runs to his designated spot on the bath mat and Pierre waddles to his doggie bed to stash yet another treat. In fact, it has become such a problem that our iRobot Roomba room vacuum cleaner continues to get lodged on the discarded doggie treats.

On the surface this is no big deal. We all love our dogs. What worries me is that we have 9 Chickens and a Rooster. I can tell you it is a fact that when Brett’s SUV pulls up in the driveway, Rocky the rooster starts his special dance. Brett cocks his head, whispers something I can not quite make out and heads to the chicken coop………

Is My Weiner a Killer?

A friend, Kyle, alerted me to this article on yesterday. I was not surprised to read that Dachshunds topped a list of 33 breeds which were rated for their aggression. Especially after my 5 year old petite Boudreaux put some major damage on an English Bulldog named Molly over the weekend.

Killer Dachshund Boudreaux:
Looking at his Rap Sheet, Boudreaux has killed: a bird, a squirrel, a possum or two, a kitten, and almost my rooster Rocky. The only thing Boudreaux couldn't kill was a crazy horse that knocked him unconscious with a blow to the head. That incident was blogged about 2 1/2 years ago here.

Thank God, I have one Dachshund that is lovable and harmless. He is pictured below on the right. Pierre will only run after something if he thinks there is a treat involved.


Currently, Pierre is in the dog house with E.Shrew because he pissed in the bed last night (a rare occurrence). I had just put Boudreaux and Pierre in the bed before E.Shrew climbed into it. When the Shrew felt a wet spot on his back, he screamed in horror and said every curse word in the book.

After doing a check for who had the wet pee pee, the culprit was Pierre. I had to beg the Shrew to let us sleep with the dogs in the other bed. Thankfully, he calmed down and granted us permission. All evidence of the accident has since been washed up and dried; however, the Shrew is still not talking to Pierre.

Crucifixion of the Lizard Jesus

Is it not disheartening to find a dried up lizard in your home? The pangs of guilt weigh heavy on the conscience. If only you had seen the reptile in time, you would have safely escorted it outside. Surely, outside would provide all the food and water a lizard would need. Especially since we have been blessed with summer showers almost everyday in Louisiana.

The Shrew and I were astonished to find this lizard dead outside on his French Quarter balcony Sunday morning. The most shocking part was the way the lizard died. The historical reference was unmistakable in our eyes.

Did we just stumble upon the Crucifixion of the Lizard Jesus? Did he die for the sins of all the lizards? Our hearts were thumping with the realization we had just witnessed a momentous event in the lizard kingdom.

Being the good Catholics we are, we promptly did the Sign of the Cross and said our Hail Mary's. We will probably scream like little girls if the Lizard Jesus shall somehow reappear a second time.

By the way, we have chosen to call all non-believers "Lews". Chances are, there is probably a Lewish Temple near you.

Independence Day Weekend -- New Orleans

We are spending time in the Big Easy for the 4th of July weekend. The weather is hot as hell, but that is not stopping me from playing LOTS of tennis. I can proudly state that my winning ways have returned. I SMASHED E. Shrew 6-2, 6-0 yesterday. Today, I won all three doubles matches at City Park. I am going to keep this post short, so I wont bore you with all the tennis details of the day.

In sad news, my dog Boudreaux got into a fight with an English Bulldog named Molly. The English Bulldog had to be rushed to the vet because it's cornea was scratched and face swollen WAY UP. Boudreaux is already a bird killer, a possum killer, a squirrel killer, and a kitten killer. But now a dog killer? We visited Molly in the upstairs Condo and she appears to be back on her way towards recovery. Whew. Boy do we feel bad!

Awkward Moment

Have you ever felt the sudden urge to crawl under a rock? I was in this exact situation last night. I was invited by "Denny" to go hit with him and his friend "Zack" last night. They were both players in the men's league that I have played regularly in the last two seasons. In fact, I had just played against them last Thursday in a fun doubles pick up game. I thought we were all "buds".

Well, I get to the courts and it is quite obvious that Zack doesn't want me there. It was written all over his face. He even tells me that he only wants to hit with Denny. Hello, dumbass... you are making me have flashbacks to horrible childhood experiences!

I should have left then, but I was trying to not make Denny feel bad for inviting me. Denny tried to accommodate us both by telling me to come on the side of the court with him and we would hit to Zack. As soon as I get to Denny's side of the court, Zack shouts in a loud booming voice, "BRETT... GET OFF THE COURT!"

I was stunned. Denny didn't know what to do. I walked off the court with my tail tucked between my legs. What in the hell should I do?! Should I just split? I didn't want to make a big scene, so I parked myself on a nearby bench with my racquet.

I text messaged E.Shrew, Whipping Boy, and another friend from the men's league to see if they wanted to come out and hit with me. As I am sitting down on the bench, still stewing from what happened, Zach comes up to me and announces that they have been hitting at 6pm every Tuesday for the last six months. This was their thing.

I sheepishly say, "That's fine. I don't mean to mess up your thing, but Denny suggested I come out here and hit with you guys. We talked last night about finding a fourth person to make a doubles match. Ya'll just hit to each other." The only reason I was still there was because I was waiting to hear from others I had just text messaged.

After getting three rejections (BOY... was I on a roll!), I tried to put my racquet in my bag and split. Denny quickly walked off the court and said he was tired. He tells me to go on the court and hit with Zach. AWKWARD!

The thought of impaling Zach with tennis balls at 140 mph DID pop into my head. I did not want to be where I was not wanted, but I went onto the court anyway just so Denny wouldn't feel bad. I held back my anger and made a stern effort to hit to Zach exactly as Denny was.

Despite my effort, Zach's whole demeanor continued to be one of extreme unhappiness. He did NOT want me there period. He would hit with me for a little while, then abruptly walk off the court saying he didn't want to hit with me anymore. Once again... flashbacks of bad childhood memories fill my head!

Instead of just letting me END THE MISERY, Denny would hurry back onto the court before I could leave. So, there Zach sat miserable on the sidelines watching me and Denny hit. After just hitting for about 10 more minutes, I announced that I didn't want to hit anymore and I was going home. I couldn't take this creepy awkwardness anymore!

I am just curious, how would you have handled this situation?

Hitting Rock Bottom then Back to Evil

Whether you choose to believe in God or let philosophy guide your moral compass, there are undeniable universal truths that guide us. I experienced an epiphany last night. Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can admit you have a problem. It is only then that you can see more clearly.

Yesterday, I got a call from Ed in Fort Lauderdale chastising me for forgetting about him. He is a blog reader that I met in person earlier this year in Fort Lauderdale. Ed had just won "Employee of the Month". I would have never known about it had he not called. I hadn't been keeping in touch.

My initial response was, "Well... perhaps if you still left comments on my blog like you used to... I'd remember to keep in touch." ZING! Predictably, that didn't go over too well.

Ed didn't mince words when he let me know that my blog has taken a sudden darker turn in the last few months. Apparently, he didn't agree with some of my viewpoints or appreciate the TUDE.

I was not surprised one bit by this revelation. I HAVE been extra bitchy lately! That's a shame too, because I really didn't want to grow up being an ornery old bastard. I suppose my bad mood has come from the stress of turning a year older the lack of sex and perhaps my horrible losing streak.

Let me tell you, constantly being beat week after week has made winning that much more important to me. I have a serious problem with attaching too much of my self worth to winning already. Add in my horrendous Scrabulous record on Facebook, and I feel like a shell of the champion I once was.

I would dare say that so much losing has made me more humble. It's true. I have been beaten down to a bloody pulp. My ego is just a ghost of what it used to be. Now, winning is all but a forgotten memory. Sniff.

Maybe tennis shouldn't be the center of my world? Seeing all those buff boys in Moby's flickr gave me the desire to work out again. It would at least give me another fitness outlet that did NOT involve "winning" or "losing".

At that very moment when I saw the answer to my nightmarish tennis season, E.Shrew asked ... "What's your saying? Losing is for losers? Goodnight Loser. Bwahaha!"

My heart sank as my spirit just got stomped on. E.Shrew danced around gleefully that he and his doubles partner were now sporting a spiffy 2-2 record, while I sat at the very woeful 0-4 with my sucky one.

The hard wires in my brain instantly went hot. All of a sudden, I had a Plankton moment. The epiphany promptly went out the window as I vowed to regain my winning ways no matter what it took.

I'll rule the world, and everyone. You will ... bow down ... to me!

You may all thank E.Shrew for ruining my epiphany. Oh, what could have been?