LIKE most sports-mad lounge lizards, the last couple of weeks have been a diet of beer, pizza and tennis for me.
Now there is plenty to like about all the great Aussie Open action.
Our boys Atomic (Bernard Tomic) and Lleyton Hewitt have done fairly well, but there is also plenty to hate.
First there was Marcus Baghdatis smashing racquets - four in total.
He was that fired up he didn't even take the last two out of the plastic. The worst thing was he was only fined $800 for the tanty. COME OOOON! (as Lleyton would say) On his wage that's like stealing 20 cents out of the ashtray in my car. It would really cause financial hardship.
Another whinge is about screamers Sharapova and Azarenka. I might be wrong, but doesn't the crowd have to be quiet during play?
That pair won't even serve until everyone is silent, but as soon as play starts these two scream and grunt loud enough to shatter glass.
But by far my biggest irk this week is old mate Rafael Nadal. Now I love the man (just as a tennis player of course), but please, can someone get Rafa some undies that don't creep up his bum crack?
On Wednesday night every time Rafa prepared to serve it was pick his bum, wipe his ears, sniff his fingers.
That's right: pick, wipe, sniff. Over and over again. Occasionally he adjusted the old Jatz Crackers.
I feel embarrassed for the man and I can't imagine what his mother thinks.
I can imagine my mum cringing if she watched me repeatedly pull the jocks out of my backside then play with the family jewels in front of millions of people and her mahjong friends.
I used to cop it for scratching at the kitchen table. So imagine the serve I'd cop after doing it on national telly.
"Now Craig my darling, I know you are making millions of dollars playing tennis on the world circuit but could you please use some of that money to BUY SOME DECENT UNDIES!
"Don't embarrass me by picking your bottom all the time, and if it is not the undies get to the doctor to work out what's wrong with your plumbing!"