comin’ home, baby

6/5/99

For years I’ve been bugging John about his addiction to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I have a confession to make. I have the biggest crush on Martina Hingis. Hey, at least she’s 18.

Just because she’s my favorite on the pro circuit doesn’t mean I wanted her to beat Steffi Graf in the French Open, though. Hingis is a cocky little wench, just like all the rest of the young tennis stars. Today’s crowd knew that, and they jarred her by chanting Graf’s name until Hingis lost her cool. Crazy match—every third line judgement was contested, Hingis violated code twice, when three times would have cost her the match. Once for angrily bouncing her racquet on the court, later for crossing the net to dispute a line call.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to tennis. Well, okay, the women are incredibly hot. (I’m a leg man. I mean, woman.) I’m not a great tennis player. I don’t know the finer points of the game. I can barely keep score in my head. But the pinging sound of the racquet strings; the fuzzy glow of the balls. The individuality—the players have “their” shots, their characteristic power moves. I’m in love. And not just with Martina Hingis.

And then there’s Ewan McGregor. I just had an overload of beautiful people today! Finally braved the crowds and saw The Phantom Menace. There are few people I’d rather watch than Martina Hingis, but Ewan’s at the top of the list. (With Gillian Anderson.)

Goodness, it’s not ovulation time again, is it?

The movie was good enough. Liked it. Was that the Mars Attacks chick? She’s cute.

Are the other two movies going to have a disposable race of comic relief characters, like the Ewoks and those...Binks...things? I really can’t stand that.

I first saw Mel Torme in concert up at Interlochen, when I was 16. See you on the flip side, buddy.