Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Olympic Burn Out

OK- all last week Matt and I stayed up to watch Michael Phelps race. We aren't swimmers, but we're addicted to dramatic TV. And let me tell you- we were ECSTATIC when the US won the men's 4x100 meter relay. I literally- was jumping up and down in the living room. Great TV. So when I was googling Michael Phelps the other night, someone asked him what he's listening to in his IPod- and it was "Go Getta" by Young Jeezy. So obviously, it's on my play list and I love it. :) I have a crush on M.P now. He's not that great looking, but any guy who can rock a speedo is good in my book. :D

In last week's Duluth News Tribune there was a cute article by Sam Cook about those of us watching the Olympics. I laughed so hard at work when I read this, and I sincerely asked my boss if we could just open the office an hour later. That would make it more manageable to stay awake during the day and still be able to get my MP fix at night. Sadly, he is all done at these Olympics- so I have to settle looking at him through blog sites for at least the next week or two and then he'll settle into obscurity until 2012 London. :) So here's that Sam Cook article, it's great:
I am going to have to have a frank conversation with my bosses soon. I’m going to have to ask them a very basic question: How can you expect me to get to work on time when I spend half the night making sure Michael Phelps gets another gold medal? Am I the only one in this pool? Here’s how it happens: You flop down on the couch just to “see what’s on” at the Olympics any given night. You’re just going to watch for a few minutes. Next thing you know, you’ve developed a deep bond with the men’s gymnastics team, or perhaps a women’s beach volleyball duo. You can’t just leave them in mid-competition. It’s like eating potato chips. You want to quit, but you can’t.

Four hours later, you stumble off to bed muttering about those Chinese women gymnasts. Women? They can’t be old enough to drive. Some of them look hardly old enough to ride a bike. You drag yourself into work the next morning, and someone comments on the huge bags under your eyes. Bags? Those aren’t bags. Those are the Olympic rings in flesh, baby.
OK. I know the Chinese duped us with the electronic fireworks in the opening ceremonies. (What gives? Aren’t fireworks a mainstay of the Chinese economy? And they give us digital Roman candles?) And, yes, there was the matter of the lip-synching at the same ceremonies. Fine. Whatever. Just bring on Kara Goucher and Phelps and those cool underwater cameras at the swimming venue, and I’m welded to the couch for another night. Here’s what I like about the Olympics: Biceps. Quads. Lats. Traps. Abs. Glutes. You look at those athletes and you realize — oh, that’s how we’d all look if we spent a little more time in the gym. I’m not specifying genders here. I just think the human form, sculpted to perfection by years of training, is cool. However. I have identified some Olympic issues. The balance beam, for one. Abolish it. Ban it. I find it much too scary to watch those young women doing flips and twists and mid-air splits, then trying to land on a piece of split-rail fence 4 feet off the ground. I can hardly watch it. And, Phelps, dude, hike that Speedo up a little bit. It’s riding a little low on the glutes, if you know what I mean. I’m afraid something’s going to snap and it’s going to unravel right down to your ankles. And some of my women friends have raised an equity issue relating to beach volleyball. Specifically, how come the women wear bikinis, but the guys wear shorts and shirts? Frankly, this lack of equality hadn’t occurred to me, but I sympathize with my friends’ concern. One more thing. Synchronized diving. Why?


OK. Kara runs the 10,000 meters at 9:45 a.m. today. I’ll talk to the bosses about that, too. We’re going to need about a half-hour break.

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