Yellow spheres of evil

Bring it. That's what I told Scarlet last night on the tennis court after we finally managed to find a day where the weather and our schedules meshed. It didn't matter that last time I had played tennis was much closer to 1991 than 2006. Trash talking is part of the fun and something I'm much more skilled at than tennis. Scarlet has a completely different style of trash talk. First off, she comes complete with the tennis outfit, the Nike tennis bag (complete with numerous rackets and balls balls balls) slung over her shoulder. Weeks prior she begins her campaign by chatting about her years on the high school tennis team and blogging about her Wimbledon obsession. She finishes the psychological warfare by talking about how long it's been since she played and how bad she'll be.

Once I'd come to terms with the heat and the fact I was going to sweat my ass off, we got started. Some of my more championship moves from last night included pulling several Babe Ruths, hitting the balls over the fence, and a few backhands that sent me and my racket spinning without ever making contact with the yellow sphere of evil. In spite of these Napoleon Dynamite-like moves and my John McEnroe mouth, the ball did manage to go back and forth over the net several times, and I had fun in the process.

Just as I was about to make my comeback and take the game, Scarlet was saved by our mutual good will in deciding to let the next two players have the court. Of course, if anyone asks....I won. ; )