By: Shannon Ralph
Ok, I know they ended weeks ago but…
I’m glad that men’s gymnastics is bringing back stirrup pants. I had a closet full of them in the 80s and have found myself wondering lately if I could still pull off the look. I mean, add some jellies and a scrunchy in my hair and I’d be ready to take on the world. Am I right?
Speaking of gymnastics, where do all of these tiny people come from? Where does one find these perfectly proportionate little bitty miniature people? Is there a colony of mad scientists somewhere breeding elves? If so, someone should let Santa in on the action.
I have come to the conclusion that people who play beach volleyball are, as a general rule, more attractive than the population at large.
The Swedish are, as a general rule (and regardless of the sport), the most attractive. I am pretty sure they are aware of their attractiveness, however.
Apparently they are lacking in good barbers in Japan, because their hair—particularly the mops the Japanese male gymnasts are sporting—is jacked up.
The great state of Minnesota (where I live) is rivaled only by the nation of Britain when it comes to pale, pasty, freckly citizenry. I think the Red Cross ought to ship them some vitamin D. And maybe a couple tubes of Hawaiian Tropics.
Word of advice: Don’t try to talk Olympics with the cute little twenty-something girl in the office. Unlike you, she has better things to do than curl up in a snuggie on the couch watching other people perform feats of amazing athletic prowess while licking the crumbs from an empty bag of sea salt and black pepper potato chips. Who would have guessed?
I don’t understand why Judo and wrestling are separate sports. From what I can ascertain, Judo is simply a fancy word for wrestling. Only in pajamas. My kids wrestle in their pajamas practically every day. Perhaps there is a gold medal in their decidedly un-athletic futures, after all.
I have been watching a lot of swimming lately and I am finding myself in awe. Not of the performances, though those have been stellar. One thing has captured my attention and triggered my obsessive compulsive nature like nothing else in these Olympic Games. Do none of the female swimmers have boobs? Have you looked at—I mean really studied—the swim suits these women are wearing? They are cut in such a way that I cannot figure out what they do with their boobs. I mean, seriously, are there secret pockets in those things or something? Those suits are cut so close to the chest on the sides that there is no way even a moderately endowed post-pubescent woman could wear one without a.) being a post-mastectomy patient, b.) being in possession of male chromosomes, or c.) employing the use of pixy dust and magic words and secret pockets. And where is all of their armpit boob? You know what I mean…the boob that subsequently positions itself firmly in the armpit when pressed flat by a sports bra or other tight-fitting garment. I have armpit boob to spare when I put on a bathing suit. Where is theirs? I just don’t get it.
I would think with all the hoopla archery is getting with the success of “The Hunger Games” and “Brave” that it would get a little more press than it has. I haven’t really been able to watch much of the archery competition, what with my crappy cable and all. I am kind of disappointed. I was looking forward to watching a gorgeous fiery-haired ginger shooting arrows from horseback while doing a handstand. I was a bit disheartened to see—in the few moments of archery that NBC allowed me to glimpse—that everyone is standing firmly on their feet. And…let’s just say that archers aren’t beach volleyball players and leave it at that. Perhaps if they made archery a fight to the death, more people might tune in to see homely people shoot arrows. Just a suggestion.
Disclaimer: By my use of the word “homely” in the previous paragraph, I do not mean to disparage anyone. Given the choice, I would be a homely archer over a beach volleyball player any day. I consider sand to be pretty heinous, as a general rule. Can you imagine diving for a ball in a bikini bottom?! The sand that would invade my nether regions is just more than my tender psyche can even fathom. All it would take is one dive to save a rogue volleyball, and my personality would certainly fracture Sybil-style as a means of self-preservation. You would no longer be watching Shannon playing volleyball. I would be Luidvik the Lithuanian lumberjack. Seriously. It would not be pretty.