Negative ... ghost writer

Friday morning "The Greatest Show on the Hardcourts" took their rightful place among the state's top 2.5 level teams at the state tennis tournament. Unfortunately, we lost.

Every one of our matches.

Big time.

I had a stomach bug, Alex hit a ball into some nearby trees, one of the teams we played insisted on spiking every volley at our "special areas," and Saturday morning, in my first ever competitive singles match, I got whipped by a man who has not won a match all year. And he did it in front of his family who were sitting outside the fence watching us.

To complete the sporting extravaganza, our office softball team lost again to the worst team in the league. I contributed with a towering pop-up that school children will try in vain to imitate on the playgrounds for years to come.

But the weekend was saved by getting to see my body double and best friend, Theo, perform what we in the industry call "dat old black magic" -- better known as improv comedy. He did great as usual, despite having to follow "My Oh My," one of the top drag shows in the state.

You would think, considering the tone of the post, that I mistakenly hit on one of these drag queens. But you would be wrong.

He shot me down before I could even ask "what's a man-girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Such is life.