craigslist is always amazing

i'm playing tennis this weekend against a 74 year old woman with her own court and coach. it was organized by my dad, like every year, and against my will. anyway, the past few years i've lost and it's been embarassing so this year, i wanted some lessons. where else to turn to? craigslist of course. oooh craigslist, with your infinite supply of crazy people - what would we do without CL?
so i met up with "Ron" from precision tennis inc. for our first tennis "lesson" this morning.
he was tall, looked a lot the the statue of David, wore scrubs, and a fanny pack that held one tennis ball, which i presume he stole from his cell mate at the mental hospital. he hit our one ball over the fence on his first swing, and i then had to go into the woods to find more and "learn the true value of the ball." he hacked at every swing sreaming "hiyaaaaah!" like he was a mexican with a machete, or a cowboy on a horse, and would go into this twirling dervish dance when he wasn't swatting at invisible flies. his "serve" was underhand and he swore it was a million miles an hour and would ace Federer. "never saw anything like that, didja! huh?" and then he actually taught me to shit talk against "they" these people who were always after him, ganging up on him....like we were preparing for war. he reminded me a lot of that greek tennis pro Milos, from Seinfeld who totally sucks and asks Jerry to let him win, and then calls him a sissy boy. anyway, he told me to tell 'them' "when to go to bed, and when they're dead." which is golden advice, given the age of this weekend's opponent.
he described three important rules to tennis:
1) timing
2) flow
3) precision flow. which i guess is different from number 2. i was lectured on precision flow for 20 minutes. i still don't know what it is, but i don't have it. there were still a lot of constructive comments like "let it bounce first" or, "whip it more" and "do a little leap after your volley, it will make you feel lighter." the people on the court next to us stopped playing to laugh.
at $15 an hour, it's definitely worth the entertainment. oh, and once i paid (i had to slide the money into his racket cover like it was a drug deal) a cop drove by and he ran full speed into the woods.
Totally. Awesome.

don't think, just jetset

when someone invites you to a castle party in the south of france, and you just used up all your vacation time in france, well i'm sorry, i don't care how you do it, you just suck it up and go. pay now, think later! and you'll find yourself in the company of other people who do this shit all the time, flying from country to country, lavish affairs, and yyyeah. and then you wish you had an outfit from that jetsetter episode of project runway. Uli i needed you!

btw. at castle parties you eat lamb roasted on a spit. pre-dinner prep looks like a murder scene.

how to speed up a transatlantic flight

-first of all, if you're flying icelandair expect to have a really small, really crappy old plane that doesn't have your own personal movies and games. no, it's old school. the tv hangs from the ceiling 5 rows up so you need binoculars. and your sound probably won't work. but then again the movie is ferris bueller or something to that effect which you know by heart so just make sure you have tunes to provide your own soundtrack.
-oh and bring a sweater. it's effing freezing cold in iceland. even in august!
-they charge you $6 these days for a drink. it's craziness. good thing they sell mini bottles of booze and wine at duty free for real cheap. if you're in a civilized country like in Europe they'll let you bring it on the plane in a sealed plastic bag. if you're smart you ask them to put it in a -different bag than the rest of your booze. pop open some vodka for your aperitif, a few bottles of red for dinner, and a nice grand marnier to put you to sleep afterwards. don't make eye contact with the stewardess or she'll know what you're up to.
-when you're done with your plastic cup, slip it under your armpit and turn to the person next to you. "man, my neck hurts, these seats are horribly uncomfortable." turn your head and squish the cup for a nice crrrrrrrunch.
-when they pass around those custom forms asking you how many goods you're bringing into the country ask out loud "does the money paid for that prostitute count as a good or service?"
-make sure NO ONE knows about the pate and saucisson that are stinking up your suitcase.
-cross your fingers and hope the olive oil didn't explode.