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Tennis fandom comes of age.
Mar. 16th, 2009 08:49 pmI never thought I'd come across tennis fandom in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanficrants, and yet there it is. Pretty valid rant, too, although I'm not particularly fond of the generally anti-RPS/RPF feel to that comm.
I have to say I had no idea people were going all crazy on Mirka; I haven't read any tennis slash in a little while, certainly nothing since the big announcement. Clearly I'm out of the loop (as I was for the announcement itself, incidentally).
---
There's a gentleman at the farmers market who sells organic, grass-fed beef. He's gorgeous, tall with dark hair, and would be very much my type, except that he's a cowboy—or at the very least, dresses like one. (Which might be worse, actually.) My dad's side of the family is full of cowboys, and I've gone riding, and been there for the branding, and the castrating, and the feeding in winter. And it's fine; it is what it is. But it means that I don't have that romantic notion of cowboys, so while my friends are all fluttery for this guy, I'm totally neutral on it. Mostly.
Anyway, I've long wanted to talk to him about his meat, as it were, but I'm usually a mess on Saturday mornings and don't have my game face on. Last Saturday was no exception—I had the previous night's Rocky Horror Picture Show hair still going on, I was wearing the most haphazard outfit, and I was weighted down with multiple bags of vegetables. But I was like, fuck it, and bought two pounds of chuck roast. He was very charming.
In keeping with my theme of interacting with good-looking men while looking like a hot mess myself, I was taking out the trash on Sunday morning when I ran into one of my neighbors. I'd never met him—never even seen him before—and my hair was twisted up into a crazy knot with huge chunks sticking out of one side, I was in my gym clothes, and I was carrying a bag of used cat litter. And he smiled and said hello and looked beautiful; and I said hi, threw the bag of cat litter in the dumpster, and scurried back inside. It was a really great first impression. Oh well, I'm not sure how you recover when you're carrying around a bag of cat litter.
Went on the greatest run tonight, btw—I'm back to my usual distance, and that's a wonderful thing. My legs are pleasantly sore right now, and I love that feeling :)
fanficrants, and yet there it is. Pretty valid rant, too, although I'm not particularly fond of the generally anti-RPS/RPF feel to that comm.I have to say I had no idea people were going all crazy on Mirka; I haven't read any tennis slash in a little while, certainly nothing since the big announcement. Clearly I'm out of the loop (as I was for the announcement itself, incidentally).
---
There's a gentleman at the farmers market who sells organic, grass-fed beef. He's gorgeous, tall with dark hair, and would be very much my type, except that he's a cowboy—or at the very least, dresses like one. (Which might be worse, actually.) My dad's side of the family is full of cowboys, and I've gone riding, and been there for the branding, and the castrating, and the feeding in winter. And it's fine; it is what it is. But it means that I don't have that romantic notion of cowboys, so while my friends are all fluttery for this guy, I'm totally neutral on it. Mostly.
Anyway, I've long wanted to talk to him about his meat, as it were, but I'm usually a mess on Saturday mornings and don't have my game face on. Last Saturday was no exception—I had the previous night's Rocky Horror Picture Show hair still going on, I was wearing the most haphazard outfit, and I was weighted down with multiple bags of vegetables. But I was like, fuck it, and bought two pounds of chuck roast. He was very charming.
In keeping with my theme of interacting with good-looking men while looking like a hot mess myself, I was taking out the trash on Sunday morning when I ran into one of my neighbors. I'd never met him—never even seen him before—and my hair was twisted up into a crazy knot with huge chunks sticking out of one side, I was in my gym clothes, and I was carrying a bag of used cat litter. And he smiled and said hello and looked beautiful; and I said hi, threw the bag of cat litter in the dumpster, and scurried back inside. It was a really great first impression. Oh well, I'm not sure how you recover when you're carrying around a bag of cat litter.
Went on the greatest run tonight, btw—I'm back to my usual distance, and that's a wonderful thing. My legs are pleasantly sore right now, and I love that feeling :)
