He's done it again. Bugger. The bland man shoved the Spaniel off court with an impressive but strangely unmemorable performance. I couldn't get excited or enthused over the Brit win and that's what's upsetting me most. After all we aren't known for winning. Apart from rowers, cyclists and the occasional runner.
After Murray won I'd like to have made a cup of tea and phoned mum and then blogged about how wonderful it all is, but instead I had a tremendous urge to run away. But there wasn't anywhere to run to. So being a little soldier I took out my frustration, annoyance, terror and depression on my little patch of garden. Ditched the ceramic tits and polished up my old mate Buddha
Looks better. So thanks Andy.
He'll be up against whoever comes out victorious in the Hewitt v. Rodick match. I prefer Hewitt, Rodick reminds me of a rodent.
Anyway, that'll be something for the screamingly upset and thick kneed Gloria to ponder.
Bless you all.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I thought you were only this passionate about footie. You are a spunky one.
Love,
D
I accept all superlatives! Spunky! Love that! Thanks Duch.
Love
Queenie
Post a Comment