Rafael Nadal plays Novak Djokovic in the Quarter Finals at Roland Garros.
Tomorrow.
Are you fucking kidding me? I will be at work tomorrow. At work. I will miss this match. A dream fucking match.
Ironically, I don't typically work on Tuesdays, but it's New Season Kick-Off at CCA so I gotta be there.
Double fucked by fate.
I will be sitting at a desk answering moronic questions by stupid people - in person and on the phone - about shows, about ticket prices, about venues, about seats, about every little thing you can think of and some you could never even imagine - repetitively, same questions over and over again - while these two titans of the game slug it out in spectacular fashion, most likely for 5 sets.
I might as well be dead.
Actually going to work is a temporary death every time I do it.
I am so fucking pissed off. Furious. I have been gobbling up the French Open for a week now, truly enjoying it, working my way up through the no-names to get to the big boys.
And here they are - Nadal vs Djokovic - and I will be working a job that a fifth grader could do.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
I will record this match, even though it goes against my grain. And watch it ASAP. I mean, I fucked myself by fucking up my life, putting me on the road to this moment. If I decide not to record it and the match turns out to be legendary, I will have double fucked myself.
It's bad enough that I am being double fucked by fate.
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