Look at my Swedish Pancake, Now!
I'm sorry; I didn't pay much attention to Wimbledon this year, except for the local girl who made good. But, excuse me. Bjorn Borg? I never liked him because he was never cute to me. But, hello lover. I'm sorry for not paying attention to you in the past. Can't we call it even and start over?
Labels: random thoughts
3 Comments:
Back off, sister. He's been mine since 1978, when I first saw him play tennis. That's over 20 years. And he hasn't aged a bit, has he? I hear, though, that he has questionable taste in women. Which means there is hope for the two of us! Whee!
Yeah, um. Ew. You two have at it!
He aged nicely, didn't he? I'm still a big Andy Roddick & James Blake fan, though. I know, younger men. And, of course, Charles Mann, formerly of the Skins, is the honey I'm really in love with...more my age, and talk about looks, etc. Actually, it might be the etc. I'm in love with...
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