I confess I was remiss. I watched almost none of the French Open. Excuse me: Roland Garros. We're supposed to call it Roland Garros. In any case, I watched maybe 20 minutes of the entire tournament, which, quelle surprise, has been host to so many lesbians over the years. Nonetheless, it turns out that 20 minutes was enough time to hear a doozy from the mouth of our butch babe in the analyst's booth, Mary Carillo. "She plays like a man," Carillo said of Samantha Stosur
as the newcomer Aussie overpowered little Justine Henin. Justine had been my favorite player for a while. But it was never a fully developed crush because she looks too much like my sister (I mean that literally). Therefore, I have a familial and protective feeling toward Justine, who has always seemed so vulnerable under the steely tenacity and perfect backhand. 
(Someday I might also share the story of how I once ran into Justine at the elevators in the lobby of a resort in Miami...) But the real reason for this post is to announce my new favorite tennis player: Francesca Schiavone. When she beat Stosur in straight sets yesterday, she became the first Italian woman to win a Grand Slam singles title. And unofficially she may be the first boi to win a Grand Slam. Take a look at her post-win press conference. So adorable. And look at her healthy appetite! And the bit of red clay on her magnificent nose from kissing the court upon seizing victory! This is what I'm talking about when I order a "small hot Italian" at Subway.
