No big surprise, but I watched the Olympics again last night. Despite my obvious inclinations otherwise, I almost prefer watching women�s gymnastics more than the men�s, if I must be honest. I think the reason why is because the women�s events are much more about skill and artistry, it seems, while the men focus more on strength and speed. And biceps. (No complaints here about that one.)
Anyway, the one thing that I don�t much care for in the women�s competitions is the way they have to do those herky-jerky "dance" moves in between the tumbling and the flipping and the artistry-ing. You know the ones�where they flail their arms about at right angles and snap their heads around and just generally Vogue to the music in a way that make them look like malfunctioning femme-bots. What the hell is that about? Do they seriously get judged on that? "Hmmm�I mean, the way she did those eighteen somersaults through the air and then switched direction and moved back through time and spun her pelvis around like a dreidel before landing on a single toe without losing her balance was fine and all, but that little skippy-hop dance move she just did was so uninspired. I�m giving her a 5."
I love watching, but I get really tense, and I hate it when they totally biff out. Like last night, this poor Chinese girl got turned around or something and did a hardcore face-plant off the uneven bars, and I didn�t stop cringing for about five full minutes. I know what that feels like, y�all. Maybe not on an Olympic scale, but I did a similar face-plant coming up the stairs from the laundry room on Sunday, and it really hurts, you guys! Plus, I just know people were watching me from their apartment windows and feeling bad for me and my clumsy-ass self, which didn�t make the situation any better. I confess I immediately jumped up and did that arms-in-the-air, quarter-turn, suck-it-up-for-the-judges thing, though. I still only got a 5. Damn dance elements.
Over on the other side of the�whatever, swimming has really become the event that Bob Costas won�t shut the hell up about already. Not that I mind a whole lot, because I really do like the swimming and all. Sadly, it�s about the only time lately I get to shout "STROKE FASTER!" at a half-naked man these days. Speaking of which, is Michael Phelps aware that his swimsuit is about a half-centimeter away from basically being, like, a pair of legwarmers? He might really want to think about hiking those things up just a notch, especially when the cameras are around. This isn�t FOX, you know.
I guess if you�ve got it, you might as well flaunt it, though. Still, if your teenage daughter walked out the house with her butt hanging out of her pants like that, it would be pretty scandalous. I suppose if you compete professionally and are used to having your "assets" either mostly exposed or totally undisguised by your skintight outfit, you stop worrying about getting ogled by millions and millions of people around the globe. Who cares what pervert might be watching you from a darkened bedroom that smells like mothballs and wet fur? (In my defense, the wet fur smell was there before me.) Who cares if the only thing preserving your modesty is the friction between the skin of your pelvis and the slippery surface of wet spandex? Who cares if your grandma is watching? The original Olympic Games were played in the nude, I should remind you. There�s a certain nobility in the apathy toward modern notions of propriety. Also, Michael Phelps has one hell of a torso to show off, so, again, who cares?
Anyway, I didn�t intend to just write about the Olympics all the time, but it�s far more interesting then my job, so I think we�ll all agree it�s a bit of a step up. Tune in next time when I talk about�some other event. Wooooooo!
Oh, and bonus shout-out to accentjunkie for knowing the actual width of the balance beam. I stand corrected! Or, more likely, I wobble corrected, and then fall four feet down onto my face.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: "I don�t mind the little things" And: Michael Phelps semi nude [How apropos.] I�m Watching: Women�s gymnastics team finals. Dance, girls, dance! And: The Amazing Race. Now, I didn�t much care for Mirna, but I�d still rather spend an hour with her than watch Colin for another three minutes.