Sunday, August 24, 2003
Haven't quite decided whether I should feel inspired or depressed that my 70-year-old mother recovering from a broken collar bone (while body surfing off the coast of Mexico) beat me handedly in tennis during her week-long visit here...
Speaking of tennis, Anna Kournikova (definitely not to be mistaken for the forty-something, sassy liberal Anna here speaking) has some kind of fantabulous agent working the ropes on her behalf. She has just cut a deal with Amazon.com Apparel selling sexy sports bras (the girl is definitely hot); she has a new gig with a major sports network as sports broadcaster (I see into the crystal ball tennis ratings going up, up, up); and she just recently umpired an exhibition tennis match between Agassi and Roddick. The match from the New York Times:
Andre Agassi, Andy Roddick and Anna Kournikova made a pretty good comedy team yesterday. Agassi and Roddick played each other in a 10-point tie breaker at Arthur Ashe Stadium with Kournikova in the umpire's chair. All had microphones and Kournikova told the players to grunt harder. Then Kornikova's cellphone rang. "Oh, it's John McEnroe," she told them. "He said you're both playing like girls." To which Roddick responded: "Wait a minute. How does John McEnroe have your cell phone number?" In a later exchange, Agassi egged on Roddik by saying, "Let's see what you got, big boy." Roddick pointed to his head and cracked to the bald Agassi, "Hair!" Agassi won by 10-8.
BTW -- I had a fling with McEnroe believe it or not. Even so I wasn't mentioned in his new book 'You Can't Be Serious.' Bastard... I was nineteen working at the Plaza Hotel in New York managing a little boutique called Mark Cross, a fine leather goods' store eventually bought out by Coach. 'Managing' is somewhat of a misnomer given that the only person in the store was myself -- but that was indeed my title at the time. The store was a little cubicle of a thing too small for anyone to feel very comfortable walking into unless they were desperate for a gift. That left me a lot of time to stand outside the store star gazing. Which is how I got kissed in the middle of the Plaza Hotel by Muhammad Ali one day. And how I met John McEnroe. Call it a star-struck thing because McEnroe at the time was a soda-guzzling, burger-hungry obnoxious boy that just happened to be just the thing for a bored nineteen-year-old-regretting-she-had-put-off-college-to-go-work-in-New-York-for-a-year.
He asked me 'after' whether I was going to light a cigarette. "Why would I do that?" I asked. "Well it just seems like you'd do something like that. After this." Instead I grabbed his curly hair. "Don't do that," he protested. "I don't have all that much hair as it is. By the way, I want you to grow your hair out."
"What?" Needless to say when I arrived back in California I never returned his call. He went on to Tatum O'Niel.
Are tennis players obsessed with hair or something?
Speaking of tennis, Anna Kournikova (definitely not to be mistaken for the forty-something, sassy liberal Anna here speaking) has some kind of fantabulous agent working the ropes on her behalf. She has just cut a deal with Amazon.com Apparel selling sexy sports bras (the girl is definitely hot); she has a new gig with a major sports network as sports broadcaster (I see into the crystal ball tennis ratings going up, up, up); and she just recently umpired an exhibition tennis match between Agassi and Roddick. The match from the New York Times:
Andre Agassi, Andy Roddick and Anna Kournikova made a pretty good comedy team yesterday. Agassi and Roddick played each other in a 10-point tie breaker at Arthur Ashe Stadium with Kournikova in the umpire's chair. All had microphones and Kournikova told the players to grunt harder. Then Kornikova's cellphone rang. "Oh, it's John McEnroe," she told them. "He said you're both playing like girls." To which Roddick responded: "Wait a minute. How does John McEnroe have your cell phone number?" In a later exchange, Agassi egged on Roddik by saying, "Let's see what you got, big boy." Roddick pointed to his head and cracked to the bald Agassi, "Hair!" Agassi won by 10-8.
BTW -- I had a fling with McEnroe believe it or not. Even so I wasn't mentioned in his new book 'You Can't Be Serious.' Bastard... I was nineteen working at the Plaza Hotel in New York managing a little boutique called Mark Cross, a fine leather goods' store eventually bought out by Coach. 'Managing' is somewhat of a misnomer given that the only person in the store was myself -- but that was indeed my title at the time. The store was a little cubicle of a thing too small for anyone to feel very comfortable walking into unless they were desperate for a gift. That left me a lot of time to stand outside the store star gazing. Which is how I got kissed in the middle of the Plaza Hotel by Muhammad Ali one day. And how I met John McEnroe. Call it a star-struck thing because McEnroe at the time was a soda-guzzling, burger-hungry obnoxious boy that just happened to be just the thing for a bored nineteen-year-old-regretting-she-had-put-off-college-to-go-work-in-New-York-for-a-year.
He asked me 'after' whether I was going to light a cigarette. "Why would I do that?" I asked. "Well it just seems like you'd do something like that. After this." Instead I grabbed his curly hair. "Don't do that," he protested. "I don't have all that much hair as it is. By the way, I want you to grow your hair out."
"What?" Needless to say when I arrived back in California I never returned his call. He went on to Tatum O'Niel.
Are tennis players obsessed with hair or something?
Comments:
Post a Comment
