1. Thursday, March 7, 2002

    Pisces, you bitch, anna lost 

    in the opening round in Indian Hills today, right outside of Palm Springs, 6-1, 6-4. Plagued with poor serves and 44 unforced errors, it was obvious that the 20 year old Russian had other things on her mind than tennis.

    “Why did you go back to the blue top?” I asked. She called me at work.

    “Shut up.”

    “You know that shirt’s bad luck.”

    “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” she said very quietly. She was driving a rented car to the Palm Springs Outlet Center with her mom.

    “You’re the only girl who calls me up and insists she doesnt want to hear what I have to say.”

    “Can’t you just say something sweet and nice?” she whispered.

    “With one more opening day loss, your rank will drop and you just might hit #69 in the world,” i said.

    I laughed. I crack myself up.

    “Hello. Hello?” i said.

    Somehow we were disconnected. Probably the cell phone she was on. Mountains or something.