Honestly, all I feel right now is the ache in my left toe. Vanity comes with a hefty price tag, obviously, and unfortunately for me, it's not my bank account that's paying the price. It's ME. My damn body. My poor feet. I am so amazed I walked around in those awful, uncomfortable shoes the whole day. THE. WHOLE. DAY. I deserve a medal for such an incredible feat.
I guess the bright side is...my shoes look damn nice. Yep, that's about it.
I was actually gonna come home in the evening to watch Roger's fourth round match against Tommy Haas, but when I heard all those stories about working until 3 AM and working over the weekends and basically having no life, I decided, Screw this shit; I'm going to do something fun. I decided to have dinner with Mag (so glad she decided to have dinner! Was awesome seeing her) and watch Tong play against a girl, presumably, but that also ended up changing. No matter. And I knew I'd get a quarter-final to watch on Wednesday (which is still orientation I think, so maybe we'll get to go home before six again. I hope) because, yeah, Roger Federer doesn't suffer upsets in Grand Slams, so it was all good.
Of course, when my mom called me to ask where I was and subseqently told me Roger lost the first two sets but was battling it out in a fourth, for a split second I actually wondered if I was gonna get a quarter-final at all. That split second later, though, my faith in him came back. I knew there was no way he was losing. Even if it was gonna take him five sets, there was no way he was losing.
And indeed, he won! I'm going to go watch it after this. And after I shower.
Anyway, I really wanted to see Tong play against a girl so it was quite sad his opponent became an ang moh kid instead. His opponent was super poor thing, kinda like Del Potty against Roger in Australia...wait, did I just...seriously make that comparison? I take it back. His head doesn't need to get any bigger. But yeah, the poor kid was super poor thing. He didn't win a single point in the second and Tong donated a point to him in the last set out of the kindness of his heart (this is me being nice). I felt really bad for him; it must've been totally demoralising.
Speaking of demoralising, I played tennis with Tong last night. He's amazing you know. He started hunting for tennis courts at like, 5 p.m. which is super last minute, way after his condo's courts were all booked (like duh), and somehow he managed to make it happen. If it'd been anyone else I would've spent my Sunday night at home. Seriously. Tong: He Who Makes Things Happen. He's very useful. And nice, of course. Useful and nice. More nice than useful. Okay moving on.
Like I was saying, speaking of demoralising: Except for maybe three or four (or two) points that I deliberately won, i.e. points that I knew what I was doing and deliberately whacked some backhand cross-court that he couldn't return and not accidentally slice a forehand that bounced away from him, I was being sliced off the damn court. Sliced to death. SLICED. TO. DEATH. I'd give a bunch of excuses about how visibility is less clear at night and how my fringe literally blocks my vision when it gets into my eyes (I'm not kidding about this. But I look gross with my fringe pinned to one side), but the sad truth is, his slices are epic. I've played with organic tennis players who also slice often, and sure my experience couldn't be more limited if I tried, but still, I've never seen anyone slice the stupid tennis ball quite the way he does. It's so low, and the bounce is also super low, and there's nothing I can do. Nothing at all. Even his more human slices I was all, SHIT WHAT THE FUCK WHERE DO I GO, and when I thought I was in position, I actually wasn't. It bounced towards my body. Straight at me. You can't properly hit a ball if it's coming straight at you, and by the time I realised what was going on, it was way too late to adjust my position.
Therefore, the rare instances in which I actually managed to return his damn slices were, like, TOTALLY FREAKING AWESOME. Precisely - and sadly - because they were so rare. I actually don't mind returning ultra-low balls (I hate - HATE - high balls with a passion. I just don't know what to do with them. And I'm not confident enough to even attempt a smash. Not that I can smash; no strength in my arm. Sad), though Tong's Epic Slices, as opposed to his Normal Ones, are another issue altogether; but yeah, I don't mind, and prefer them to high balls for sure, so the rare instances I managed to put myself in a reasonably okay position to return his Normal Slices were quite awesome.
But they were rare. And thus I was making a lot of noise, muttering to myself, saying sarcastically to him, "I'm on that side of the court right?" when he played some annoying cross-court slice (CROSS-COURT some more. Really).
But still, despite being sliced to death, it was fun. Very much pleased Tong made it happen. YAY! Tong rocks.
On the downside, guess what stupid shit happened at the fucking YCK toilet last night. I went in to change out of my tennis clothes (the stupid top really stuck to my skin. I don't even know why. Nike fails) and wasn't even taking that long, when all of a sudden all the lights went out. A second later, I heard the door knob being locked shut.
What the fuck. I couldn't see shit in the darkness and had to slowly inch my way to the door, and when I reached it I was so pissed I started banging really hard on the damn door. To make matters worse, to add insult to injury, when the door opened this fat Malay man was looking at me. Not only that, he actually had the audacity to glare at me. But wait, it gets worse - he actually genuinely believe he had the slightest locus standi to stand there and snap at me, in broken English of course, "Just now I off the lights you didn't say anything."
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. When the lights went out I was stunned for maybe 2 seconds, and after that I started saying, "Excuse me." I said that repeatedly, each time saying it louder, but it was only until I made my way to the damn door and started banging on it that the stupid fucking asshole opened it. AND HE STILL HAD THE AUDACITY TO ACCUSE ME OF NOT LETTING HIM KNOW I WAS IN THE TOILET.
Like I said - ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. Like I was supposed to know he's menopausal (sp?). Like I was supposed to know they anal-ly lock up the toilets at 10 sharp, nevermind that people usually book courts from 8 to 10 and therefore wouldn't use the toilet until after 10. Like I was supposed to know that place is staffed by lazy assholes who actually had the audacity to tell a girl that it was her fault for not letting him know she was still in the fucking women's toilet when he started chasing people out. Like I was supposed to know he'd come by and chase people out by a certain time.
What the fuck, seriously. I was so pissed I snapped right back at him - and despite my high tendency to get really annoyed by strangers, I hardly ever pick a fight. I hardly ever argue with anyone. I usually just simmer in my anger and walk away, but that fucker last night? He was just asking for it. He thought he could scold ME for something that was HIS fault and get away with it? DREAM FUCKING ON. No one talks like that to me and gets away with it. I'm not some idiot you can bully, sorry to say, and if you didn't even fucking put me on notice that you were gonna lock up the toilets in three seconds, it's not my problem that you want to go home. It's also not my problem that you were too fucking deaf to hear me shouting when you turned off the stupid lights. And so I went, "I was yelling in there and you didn't hear me. That's not my problem."
See? I was even being nice. Could've sworn at him, could've stood there and yelled at him somemore, but I just pushed the door really hard and walked back to doing whatever it was I was doing.
Wait, something just occurred to me: the fucking asshoels in the toilet with me were just...amazing. Surely they must've known someone else was still inside BECAUSE I LEFT MY FUCKING BAG OUTSIDE. I didn't take it in with me. THOSE ASSHOLES. They should be glad I don't remember their ugly faces or I'd so rip them a new one if I ever see them again.
Poor Tong had to see me all angry. I swear, no one outside of my family has ever seen me that pissed off before. NO ONE. Mag has seen me annoyed, mildly pissed off, but last night, I was SIMMERING with rage. That ass should be glad he wasn't around the YCK courts today, or he would have REALLY gotten it from me.
Okay I need to print my results, take out my eyes, and shower, then watch the Roger match. I think it's four hours long. It's a five-setter.
YAY HE WON.
OMG I still cannot wrap my mind around the possibility of him finally winning the French. I really can't. I'm afraid I'd jinx it if I thought about it too much. OMG OMG OMG.
Oh, and lastly, guess what other wonderful news I have. I tried replying an SMS just now, just to find out my "6" button died. SERIOUSLY WTF I NEED A NEW PHONE. I'M GETTING IT TOMORROW. SCREW MY DAMN CONTRACT. The space button died a long time ago (hence my bad typing), and now the "6" is dead. Which effectively means I can't type out a lot, a lot of words. I tried to type "ok" just now but couldn't press "o" so I settled for "K".
I need a new phone. Getting it tomorrow. Bleah.