Love All, Rose

Just when you thought it was safe to venture back out on the court, you hear the commotion from nearby: "What? Since when is tennis not played shirts versus skins?" - of course, mixed doubles was probably the absolute worst time to discover this little tidbit.

Mixed up with the tennis shorts and skorts are the usual grab-bag of fiction, fantasy, and oh-no reality. All served up to you in a handy-dandy collection with which to score. I mean, like in tennis. Not score with the opposite sex. Even when you say the score is "Love," it doesn't necessarily mean you have to even like your partner. I mean opponent. And it certainly doesn't mean you have to wipe your face after every sweaty encounter... with your shirt... when you accidentally forget how aggressive you can get in wiping everything down how you yank up way too far when you don't wear what I don't wear under my t-shirts... but happen to have a pair of, uh, let's call them somewhat bigger than a set of tennis balls... maybe a lot bigger than tennis balls... but they're still out there on the court... and, well, because I just yanked up my shirt to wipe down my face, they're OUT on the court.
Wait, I mean, "Hey! Check out the table of contents!" (and just shut the heck up, Rosie!)
Table of Contents
Love All Intro
- Fiction
Slippery Slope
Finding Religion
Granny Hood
Auction Ring Princess
-Gray Zone
Tennis Top Intervention
-Non-Fiction
Butt Shower
Mom
Sunscreen
Doorbell
Disconnect (Wee Willy Wetness - Split-roast Personality)
Toy Review
Eclipse
Q&A with Rose, Session 7
Love All Conclusion
Is it me, or with time is my non-fiction sections of these sordid tales getting bigger? I bet those suckers were just misclassified. That's gotta be it.
So let me serve up a copy of this little tome for you, just click it, stick it, and let's get on with the game: "Love All, Rose" (and don't double fault just because I have the bad habit of swaying back and forth while crouched in a ready position to receive whatever you give me. On a serve, I mean.)
(And I completely disavow knowledge concerning the 'About the Author' picture. Which, for the record, I do _not_ do that during _every_ tennis match, dammit! (Only the ones where I'm behind.))