I guess this one's for Jack

Jack is my tennis-loving friend. It is all he cares about, much to the dismay of his co-workers and his wife. Last year for Christmas I gave him an engraved trophy which read "Only tennis player I know."

So he popped into my head while flipping channels earlier today when I came across the US Open. I had been flipping for several minutes when I decided to stop and watch tennis for a little while. I managed to flip by while Maury Povich was soliciting parents of teenagers who wish to become pregnant and who want to talk their progeny out of this decision. Several minutes later on the same station was another call from Maury, this time for teenagers who wish to become pregnant and who don't care what anybody says. I wonder what topics he's readying for his show...

So I landed on tennis. When I tuned in, this Romanian lady (Jankovic) was beating the shit out of a French lady (Henin-Hardenne). She won the first set 6-4, and was up 4-2 in the second. Our French lady seemed tired and was playing what the commentators called "really shabby tennis."

Since I seem to have an effect on sporting contests I witness, of course everything changed at once. The game went to deuce 5 or 6 times before the French gal finally won it.

And the Romanian lady never won another game the whole match. It was hers to lose when I tuned in, and lose it she did. That's how powerful I am. I also watched the only Bears game they lost in '85, and a couple of the games that went sour in October for the White Sox last year. I actually attended a White Sox game in May, and joked to my friend Rich (a diehard fan) that my attendance would have them fighting for a wildcard slot later in the season (they were in first place at the time). Now, as I understand it, they are fighting for a wildcard slot. I hope Rich can forgive me.

I am only awake at all because my upstairs neighbor is making an ungodly amount of noise. I'm dosed out on Nyquil® and should really be asleep. From the sounds I can only deduce that first he half-heartedly built a chicken coop and is now using some type of floor sander. Or he's breaking into my apartment through the least likely means. There has been some serious pounding and power tool noise from up there. I am also not kidding about what I can only hope is a floor sander. I guess I'll listen to "What's He Building" by Tom Waits the next time I can hear anything.

Slightly nauseous and floaty, sentenced to consciousness throughout the drunk/high that Nyquil® has bestowed upon me. At least my nose isn't running.

And to keep my streak alive, the number one player in the world (however they gauge that) just lost her first set 6-0. I think I'm what they call a "cooler" in Vegas. One of those guys whose luck can shake the stride of anyone on a streak. There are worse things to be.