federerino

dear roger federer,

while i am but a mere mortal ever in awe of your prowess with a racket, i can no longer go on without offering up this morsel of advice: please never, ever remove your sweatband from your head. ever. wear it to bed, in the shower, during sex, to business functions, everywhere. i am sure with just a little bit of pluck and ingenuity and a moderate amount of physical discomfort we can figure out a way to permanently affix it to your cranium.

"but why?" you ask. (or should i say, "aber warum?" since i hear you are one of those swiss who prefers german).

well rog, the answer is simple: with the sweatband you are a swoon-worthy, virile sex god, truly an adonis on the court, and without it you look like quentin tarantino's awkward younger brother who went backpacking for a summer and decided to keep the eurotrash look. while our friend quentin is incredibly talented in his own right, he's not exactly the person you should be emulating in the physical appearance department. especially when a mere strip of cotton can work such wonders. plus, you must wear the sweatband about 8 hours a day already, right? what's another 16 hours?

if only i could have had a rendezvous with you while we were both in melbourne this past week so i could have given you this advice in person. in my bed. while wearing the sweatband.