The Olympics are coming, the Olympics are coming!
In twenty two? twenty three? twenty-something-ish days. I get confused counting days. Do I include the day we’re in or not? I don’t remember learning the proper way to do this; it creates much trouble when trying to tell the children how many days until their birthdays or Christmas or the day I promised I’d play Chutes and Ladders again because I hate that fucking game and have to space it out. And then if I count it wrong, Isabel is all, “But you said TEN DAYS and the tenth day is TODAY, not tomorrow!” and then I’m all, “But I wasn’t counting the day we were in, and today is MONDAY and for the love of all that is holy, if there is ever a day I would NOT promise to play Chutes and Ladders, it’s MONDAY!” and then she wants to know why, and that’s a hard question to answer without quashing her sweet little spirit so instead I just bang my head against the wall for a while and then play Chutes and Ladders and wish I had something harder than cream to put in my coffee.
In twenty-something-ish days, the Olympics will be here! We are irrationally excited. “Irrationally” because there is no logic whatsoever behind our love of the Olympics; these are sporting events that we couldn’t care less about at any other time. If someone were to approach me in, say, February, to tell me, “Hey, there’s going to be a kickass Ping Pong tournament this weekend, want to come watch?” my response would be something like, “Who are you and what have you done with people who know me? Unless there’s a “beer” in front of that “pong,” I don’t give a damn. No.” And then I would stop being friends with that person because I don’t have the patience for folks who get uber enthusiastic about stupid shit like ping pong.
But during the Olympics? I’m all, “You go! Slap that ball! Show those motherfuckers how we do Table Tennis in the U S of A!”
Because the Olympics? Are awesome. They are so awesome that they make even totally pointless, non-sport, sporting events downright fun.
So in honor of the events coming up in twenty-something-ish days, I put together a list of…
TWENTY THINGS PEOPLE SAY WHILE WATCHING THE SUMMER OLYMPICS
- “Hot damn, his biceps have biceps!”
- “My God, how many athletes can China possibly have?”
- “Well, that doesn’t look so hard.”
- “Why are we looking at some dipshit in the audience? Turn the camera around!”
- “Hell if I knew where Nauru is.”
- “How is that an Olympic sport?”
- “Since when are you interested in women’s volleyball?”
- “I don’t mean to sound racist, but…”
- “He eats, like, 5,000 calories a day. Genetics just aren’t fair.”
- “That’s the one from… Ireland. No, Italy. No, Ireland. One of those, they should change their damned flags.”
- “I always felt like I had the makings of an athlete, if only I had more supportive parents / tried harder / exercised, ever.”
- “I am not jealous of some eight year old gymnast, I just think the leotards are ugly!”
- “Sweet banana hammock, dude.”
- “He’s from… Di-BOO-tee? Ji-BOW-tee? I don’t know, some stupid weird-language place.”
- “I bet I could rig some uneven bars out of those curtain rods and my portable wardrobe rack…”
- “Well, asshole, I’d look like too if you hadn’t ruined my body with your fucking sperm!”
- “Is that… badminton? Badminton can get you into the Olympics?”
- “Okay, are Luxembourg and the Netherlands the same fucking country or not?”
- “Shit, call 9-1-1, I dismounted funny.”
- “Admit it, you’re disgusted by me! Don’t shush me, I am NOT BEING HYSTERICAL!”