If a man-purse is a murse, and a man-scarf is a smarf, then DUUUUUDE, you’re wearing a smirt.

Engagements, weddings, seems like the tennis world is in a hurry to tie the knot.
Congratulations to Jamie Murray, who wed his spectacular looking Colombian girlfriend Alejandra Gutierrez yesterday in his own town of Dunblane. The two have been dating for the last two years after they met in London, where she was studying.
Andy Murray, reportedly, was the best man and threw a stag night at a nightclub in London last month.
Perhaps, it’s best we banish that part from imagination.
xx doots
PS. Apologies for the complete blogging absence. Picket Fence is growing weeds from the neglect. But alas, I’m crumbling under the weight of case law. Another semester, another ass-whupping by life in general. What else is new? Shall be back to fence maintenance in no time.
God did not intend for tennis bloggers to work during late October through early January.
Rest up for the mondo-frazzle spectacular that is the (in one sense) misnamed Happy Slam in your corner of the world. (It’s obviously not misnamed in a larger sense; I’m just tossing in contrarian sentiments, which is what I’m supposed to do.)
And oh, having seen some of your tennis tweets in the past few hours, Doots, here’s some reciprocal silliness from me:
Andy Murray wears a kilt / He’s also been known to wilt / in a high-stakes tennis tilt / giving his voice that signature lilt
(Wakka-wakka-wakka — Fozzie Bear would be proud.)
On twitter Moonpie Zemek / Many followers would recc’ / ‘Cause he always did check / Before Mad Men endings wreck.
Sheesssh. Hard name to rhyme.
Oho! N’aww. I have quite the soft spot for Jamie, so yupyup.
I have definitely been liking the poetry of late, doots. yupyupyup.