Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Match Point

My tennis game is improving daily. I was down at the Wellesley courts that were full of tight 40 year old women daintily pushing the ball over the net with their racket. I think the whole thing was designed to give them an excuse to wear those sexy pastel mini skirts. I ogled them for a few minutes before taking my shirt off and tying the dog up and proceeded to hit the ball as hard as I could against the wood backstop. And I groaned like Boris Becker on every forehand, my grunts echoing off the manicured pine trees. I only stopped when I hit the ball over the backstop into the softball field nearby. There are signs that say only tennis shoes are allowed but I only have my all purpose hiking/dancing shoes. The important thing was getting exercise running from the police when they were finally called to evict me from the place. Members Only? Fuck that. I'll decide when and where to play tennis. I don't care if the place has valet parking. IF I can get in then I can play. That's the rule.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

ask the chickenhawk about mysterious picnic table barbecue and fifty yard dash from Portsmouth Fire Dept in the members only woodlands tennis and pool club.

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