Pussies I have known

Good news: this is not going to be a sex-ography.

I’m using “Pussies” in the old-fashioned, misogynistic way — the way the old testament god intended — as an insult to those who show weakness, any emotion other than laughter or anger (usually at the same time) or a sense of fashion.

If you are lucky, in a future post, I’ll use “Pussies” in the modern context — to describe all the bad-ass bitches I know who want to castrate fucking Donald J. Trump with a rusty plastic spoon. (I know plastic doesn’t rust, but believe me these women would find a way).

My friend Nick made the Pussy list a few years ago during El Tour. It rained – a hard, cold, driving rain that left rivers running across the roads. At Catalina Park (mile 68) he begged to get a car ride back to the start. The SAG bus was right behind him. I didn’t give a shit if he was shivering and his hands and face were a little blue. I told him there was no bus and to get back on his bike.

Nick finished that ride, lost his fucking mind, started climbing massive mountains (including repeats up Mt. Lemmon) and proved that it is possible to be removed from the Pussy list.

Many of you already know about Joe and that fucking cookie. Joe will be on the list until he does something — any damn thing – that could be remotely described as manly. Odds are 2-1 Joe will remain a pussy for life.

Julian is a millennial douchebag and a perennial pussy. He made the list so many times, I can’t keep track. But it started with buying a carbon road bike and then never riding it. It ends with his choice to go out to “board games” with the wife instead of to tennis practice. We have given Julien numerous opportunities to get off the douchebag and pussy lists, but he keeps burying himself deeper and deeper. He might grow up and get off the douchebag list, but there’s no light at the end of the Pussy tunnel for him.

And now we come to the biggest one of them all, Tamal. At first I thought Tamal might be a pimp. I saw a picture of him on a couch surrounded by the women of his mixed doubles team in what looks like the cast picture for a porn classic: “Tamal does Oro Valley.”

But then I saw him in real live action, and it looked more like Little Women.

It was just a men’s team practice and Tamal joined my court. A mixed doubles “person” wanders over, doesn’t say a word, points and Tamal runs off — leaving us with an un-even number.

After practice, we are in the upstairs bar and Tamal is sitting with his mixed team. Topic: Outfits — he must wear specific colors at the next tournament so they match.

“The outfits are very important,” Tamal says as he slowly slipped passed our table with his head down and his tennis bag between his legs. We still had a half-full pitcher of beer and he pretended like he didn’t notice, and fucking left (while there was still beer on the table).

“Stop by the pro shop on the way out to buy a really big skirt, Tamal.” one of the assholes in the crowd called out. “You are going to need something to cover your giant vagina…”

A couple of days ago, I got an email asking me two things:

  1. Not to talk shit, but….

  2. Would I join a mixed team

I’m pretty sure it’s Tamal’s mixed team, but the message didn’t come from him. I didn’t talk shit, I wrote this blog instead, and now I’m thinking about becoming one of the Pussies I have known…