Saturday, July 03, 2010

Wimbledon Finals: Battle of the Divas

In a little while, Vera Zvonareva (left) and Serena Williams (duh, right) will go into a sledgehammer-hitting, shotgun-sounding finals match in the hallowed ground of Wimbledon. I claim it the Battle of the Divas.

Vera Zvonareva has been featured in my blog before, with video clips and a photo of her doing her thing: smashing, exploding, throwing fits, and (insert anything violent here) in a tennis match. I swear she's a relative of the Safins.

Serena Williams, of course, is the Mother Diva. She was born a diva. I bet when Oracene gave birth to her, she told her momma, "You better name me Serena or I'll pull this umbilical cord crazy!" She can shove down a ball into your throat (yes, she has threatened to do that), she wears denim skirts in tennis matches when she feels like it, and can don Edward-Cullen-like sparkling nails.

(Her name is Serena Jameka. Venus is Venus Ebony Starr. Ang taray!)

The only reason I haven't been spamming anything at all is that Internet decided to play hide-and-never-show-up-forever with me.

When it's Wimbledon time.
When I can watch live telecast of the games in Star Sports.
When I can stay up not-so-late but somewhat-late.
When I still don't have a lot in my plate.
When the weather's cool enough for my body to feel awesome.
When I am in the zone to type and publish something about anything.

That's when our service provider decided to go kaput and stayed there. Oh, I forgot to post something about John Isner and Nicolas Mahut's never-ending fairytale. Next time. Well, maybe tomorrow, when I will blog again about the winner.

MORAL: People kill for Wimbledon. Even divas do.

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