From the “Hot Body, Goofy Head” File: Spaniard Rafael Nadal extended his winning streak on clay courts to 70 games by defeating Italy’s Potito Starace and advancing to the semifinals of the Barcelona Open.
I can’t say I find Rafa (his official nickname, perhaps to avoid confusion with Raffi and to minimize in-game interruptions caused by persistent requests for “Baby Beluga”) that attractive. His haircut’s a bit too Jungle Book for me and there is no reason for a man to wear capri pants unless he survived a shipwreck. That said, I’m a sucker for a guy with nice arms.
And apparently it runs in the family.
Seriously, Mrs. Nadal. I think his hair looks awesome. Mowgli was always overlooked as a sex symbol and yes, I’d love a piece of cake but please, ma’am, please don’t hit me again.
Michael Owen, my favorite diminutive soccer player (other than Air Bud: World Pup) is set to return to the pitch for the first time since suffering a serious knee injury in last summer’s World Cup. Owen could join his Newcastle United teammates in Monday’s Premier League match against the Reading Royals.
Owen signed with Newcastle in 2005, but has only appeared in 11 matches in their uniform, having broken his foot prior to tearing his ACL in the first minute of England’s World Cup match against Sweden. Apparently Michael was crafted in the same factory that makes Ken Griffey Jr. and Marshmallow Peeps.
As we all know, Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling still has the most televised sock since Shari Lewis stopped making puppets. In today’s post on his blog, 38 Pitches, Curt challenges his detractors to prove that the substance on that sock wasn’t blood. So get your pocket DNA kits ready, it’s time for CSI: Cooperstown!
Not only that, but Schilling’s ready to put some money where his unceasing, defensive, always-open mouth is:
“I’ll wager 1 million dollars to the charity of anyone’s choice, versus the same amount to ALS. If the blood on the sock is fake, I’ll donate a million dollars to that person’s charity, if not they donate that amount to ALS.”
Somewhere in Brentwood, OJ Simpson kicks himself for not thinking of the “It’s not blood on the glove, it’s paint” defense before making a phone call to Orioles’ broadcaster Gary Thorne.
Finally, what’s a Friday without a Felony? Six Penn State football players, including Big 10 interception leader and now-tarnished hottie Anthony Scirrotto, turned themselves in to the police today. All six players face charges following a violent fight in an off-campus apartment. Although bail was set at $50,000, Scirrotto was not taken to jail…but he will be taken by the Bengals in tomorrow’s NFL Draft.
And…I’m spent.
Ladies... 
Mrs. Nadal’s arms scare me.
I don’t know if anyone had noticed but one of Nadal’s arms is signifigantly larger than the other. In fact it’s kinda funny looking. I could make an inappropriate comment here but I won’t because I like him too much for that.
Rafael Nadal’s mom is just Rafael Nadal in drag, metschick.
Damn, I’m sloooooow, Disco Stu.
Rafa is the only reason I still pay attention to tennis. Three reasons: 1) Most of my mom’s extended family is not just from Spain, but from Catalonia; 2) I absolutely hate Roger Federer, and Nadal is his Kryptonite; and 3) you have to admit, he’s exciting to watch.
You know, they do say Rafael is cool but crude.
And Michelangelo is a party dude.
Go, ninja, go ninja — rap!
Where’s the talking rat when you need him? We could use some sage advice right in broken English right about now…
The Capri pants are lame, but…I think he’s pretty hot, actually. I think it’s just the way he approaches the game – he’s so passionate. That’s hot, especially when contrasted with Federer’s blah approach.
I totally ROCK the male capri pants.