To discuss the Winter Olympics: New events for 2014

Capricorn and I watched the first part of the "Be Good Johnny Weir" documentary series last night (I didn't realize he grew up less than an hour away from where I live). Sadly, that was about as much ice skating as I've seen recently, as I haven't had a chance to watch much of the Olympics. Check that. I've watched curling several times, because when I do have time to watch, it's the only event on. I still have no idea what the rules are or how this is different than cruise ship shuffleboard with ice.

I did recently catch the biathlon, which combines the beauty of cross-country skiing with the grace of randomly shooting a firearm on the side of a mountain, which would come in handy if you were being chased by the Yeti in the Alps.

But I think the event is too self-limiting, as there are only so many among us who have a passion for both skiing and shooting a firearm. And Yetis.

In fact, there are many great potential Olympic events that have not been included in this year's schedule in Vancouver. To help out, here's my input to the Olympic committee for the next Winter Olympics, to be held in Russia Miami, Florida! (The tourism would be amazing! All they'd have to do is import ice and snow and mountains!). Others, assuredly, have done "new Olympic event" lists in the past and gave ideas such as sled riding or snow man building. Yawn. Let's ramp this thing up a notch.

* Black Ice Braking: Drivers must travel 60 mph around a backwoods road while successfully negotiate a series of turns. After sliding off the road into a ditch, the driver must successfully convince the police officer the cause of the crash was a mysterious patch of black ice that "like, came out of nowhere and I couldn't do anything," so as to avoid a ticket for reckless driving. Judges give extra consideration for those who were talking on their cell phone and driving with their knees.

* Ice Road Prius: It's one thing to be an Ice Road Trucker with a semi truck at your disposal. But for this Olympic event, drivers must select a hybrid or compact car. For the competition, they must drive in the middle of a blizzard in the passing lane with hazard lights on. A gold medal in this event requires pissing off a minimal of three SUV, four-wheel drive drivers behind them, and spinning out at every stop sign by gunning it instead of slowly pulling out. Pulling off on the side of the road and waiting for the snow plow will cost you 10 points.

* Flying V: In this team sport, a group of misfit, underprivileged and surprisingly charming youth must win a hockey game by using a combination of their Flying V and their xenophobia of Icelanders, led by that rat bastard Gunner Stahl. References during the game to "The quack attack is back, Jack" will be worth both plus 5 and minus 5 points. References to "Goldddddberggggg!" are worth 50 points.

* Pet walking: In the first pet/owner Olympic event ever, the athlete must successfully get his pet dog (Requirements: Under 25 pounds, pretentious and picky) to use the bathroom on a course that has two feet of snow in every direction. Medals are given to those who quickly find the one patch of grass in the entire area for their dog that has since become a cesspool from community over-urination, and get their dog to stop being a prima donna and just pee already because it is freakin' freezing.

* Hanging Icicle of Doom: Unfortunately, gold medalists are guaranteed not to repeat as champions. That's because in this event, the athletes stare straight up at a giant hanging icicle and wonder if anyone has ever been impaled b... *crack!*

* Couples Figure Skating: No, not the similar event already part of the Olympics. This one is much more difficult. In addition to the requisite jumps and lifts, both male and female partners must make it appear like they are actually into each other sexually and that this routine isn't just an antiquated sham repressing skaters' true orientations. Judges give extra points for couples that have the male triple sal the female's chow.

To discuss Michael Phelps staying poolside

Dear Michael Phelps:
First off, in the interest of honesty, let me say that after you won eight freaking medals at the Olympics this summer, I basically am required to have a man crush on you. Not in the, "Hey, let's go back to my place and do it Brokeback style," kind of way- that's gay (Not that there's anything wrong with that... and not to say you aren't an excellent lover... I'm sure you are... It's just that I'm not into the gay stuff... Mikey, whoh, don't misunderstand me... I don't know what you do...if that's what you're into, I mean, I know you hang out with dudes in Speedos all day and maybe you play a little Marco Polo in each others wet suits or whatever... but, you know, I'm just not a man who likes dudes like that.)
Where was I Mike?
Oh yeah, you dominating your Olympic competitors like they were little girls. Mikey, you are a true child predator of the pool- those little girls stood no chance. You just kept lapping them up, no matter how fast they stroked. You always touched first.*
So, Mike, when I heard you were hosting Saturday Night Live's season premiere, I was excited, as was Ladyfriend**. Lil Wayne was the musical guest, and his songs are dirty and hard and gritty, the good stuff you listen to get pumped up, whether it's right before a 4x400 relay race, like you said you did, or, in my case, to get pumped up to grocery shop at Super Wal-mart.
The show starts, Mike, with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler doing dead-on political commentary on Palin and Clinton. Classic.
Then... you introduced the show.
By introduced, I mean slowly read off the cue card like the poster child for another 12 years of No Child Left Behind. I'm a little worried you have a speech impediment. Can chlorine do that? I should investigate.
Sure, Mike, you were in funny bits-- The T-Mobile sketch, the 12,000 calorie sketch-- but, good God man, I've seen better acting in sixth-grade productions of the Christmas Carol***. I'm not asking you to be Peyton Manning-as-host funny. I'm just asking you to at least be Nancy Kerrigan-as-host funny. And, you know, learn to not stare at the cue cards like it's your first rehearsal (Wait, was it? I'd go with that if that's the case.)
Nobody's expecting you to be a top-flight actor. No one will care, anyway, as long as you keep winning medals and celebrating with wild, muscle-rippling fist pumps so girls can literally watch your abs with more intensity than an episode of Grey's Anatomy.
But try not to do improv again. Even in the two sketches where you played mentally deficient kids, you gave a bad name to mentally deficient kids.
Best of luck in London!

Andy

* Ticket to hell: Priceless.
** A quick update: I hung out with Ladyfriend again Saturday night (I did tell her how you all have thrown your support behind her). We made breakfast for dinner- French toast, sausage, bacon, blueberry muffins.. jealous?- and watched the magic that is "Once." All good times. Also, my dog did not bite her, which is a plus. This concludes the update, you voyeur.
*** You know what's an under-appreciated version of A Christmas Carol? The Muppet Christmas Carol. It's amazing. The penguin Christmas party! The Christmas goose! Marley and Marley!

To discuss answering the prayers of Google searchers

Dear Google search dudes and dudettes:
I feel both indebted to you and worried for you. Last week, because of your voracious keyword searches, you sent my visitor totals sky high, likely directly causing a hole in the ozone layer that won't soon be repaired through diligent car pooling and recycling. I appreciate that effort, even if you left terribly disappointed by my blog not having the answers or nudity you sought.
To make it up to you, I thought I'd try to answer some of questions posed and provide some of the content you were looking for. I'm just that type of guy.* The following are all actual Google searches that led people to WildARSChase.

• "How to Make Vending Machines Accept Fake Money" Excellent question. First, go to the bank. Hand them a dollar bill. Ask for the most fake looking U.S. (or Aussie, for reader AmyXXOO and friends) currency available. The teller, without hesitating, will hand you a shiny gold Sacagawea dollar. You will smile, knowing that nothing could be more fake looking that the U.S. Treasury trying to pass off a gold coin with an Indian guide on it as real currency. Next, go to your nearest vending machine. Shove that golden dollar in with gusto, mucho gusto (that's right. I just threw word play and random Spanish in there. That lesson comes free of charge).
• "Needed to pee" This one worries me. You needed to pee, but you were doing Google searches? Fortunately, the answer is easy. Find a toilet. Lower your pants. Wait for golden relief. Call the doctor if it burns a little.
  
• "Synchronized gangsta swimsuits" I'm not quite sure those are real things. But, not wanting to disappoint, I'll hazard a guess. Perhaps that means you're looking for the U.S. mens' swimming relay team's Speedos, with a blue flag hanging out the backside, but only on the left side, because, as Snoop Dogg informed us, that's the Crip side.
• "Alicia Sacramone boob size" Bigger than yours, smaller than Aubrey Pocket's.**
• "Alicia Sacramone's boyfriend" See Me, That's.
• "Does James Franco have a Facebook page?" Even if he does, will he really add you as his friend? Better question: If he does, does he use the bumper sticker application? What would his bumper say? "My best work was in Freaks and Geeks, and that ain't bad."
  
• "Girlicious spandex" I can't help you here. The fact you want photos of that terrible girl band Girlicious in spandex is an indictment on your taste. What you meant to look for is Danity Kane in spandex. I forgive you.
  

* I'm also the type of guy that owns a tiny dog, multiple suits, watches "What Not to Wear" and buys low-fat ice cream. Do you still want to be friends?
** I wonder if I can start a trend by repeatedly calling Aubrey from Danity Kane "Aubrey Pocket." I think I'll keep doing it until she wears a sweatshirt or a sweater or something.


For the people who are reading my blog regularly, on purpose: You do know I'm not paying you, right? But anyway, thanks for coming back again and again. To reward you, I have a special co-blog post for tomorrow, which is right around my one month blogaversary. Technically, it's Sept. 1, but you'll all be punch drunk with Labor Day frivolity (do they have something similar to Labor Day in Australia, AmyXXOO?) by then, so I figured I'd get it out tomorrow. It will help unravel some of the mystery about me by getting answers straight from a woman who knows me best (It's not Oprah or the Virgin Mary).

To discuss a rant against fake bank accounts, and other thoughts

I promised to write about fantasy football today. That's still going to happen, but not yet; I got tied up actually working for once, so that post will have to wait. Until then, some thoughts that I hope you can relate to:


Dear Woman who Sends Spam to Me About Fake Bank Accounts in Africa:
WTF.
If I'm trying to convince some schmuck to send me money so I can open a bank account for the Lord Prince of Africa Nation God Love Bible, I think I'd make sure I can, you know, spell. And write complete sentences (says the man who just wrote a fragment).
A few selections:
"I am Mrs Mary Williams from kuwait." Mary- Kuwait is capitalized. It's a country. And that's the country you choose to fake live in? Not Egypt? I'd choose Egypt.
"Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next three months due to cancer problem.Though what disturbs me most is my stroke." You've got three months to live because of "cancer problem," and you're worried about a stroke? Plus, unless your Doctor's real name is Doctor McDoctorton, don't capitalize it because it's not an official name. I don't call myself Blogger. Or Fornicator.
"I know that I am going to be in the bossom of the Lord." I know what a bosom is, but what's a bossom, Mary? Is that like man boobs? Cause the Lord doesn't have those. He only ate fish and bread, and He walked around all day. Dude is in shape.
"Whoever that wants to serve the Lord must serve him in spirit and truth." Yeah, except for that $2.5 million you say you have that doesn't exist.

• Other thoughts: I went to a high school today. Within a span of an hour, I was mistaken for a teacher and a freshman. Not sure which disturbs me more.
• Freshmen girls look like they are 22. Freshmen boys look like they are 11. Not sure which disturbs me more.
• I finally saw "Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle." Much better than I thought it would be, plus Neil Patrick Harris is amazing in that. I wish he'd steal my car. Like, now.
• The Olympics are finally over. Plus side: No more hours of trampoline footage. Down side: No more Google searches for Alicia Sacramone (final reference!) that lead people here only to be disappointed like a teenage boy who sees "nudity" under the R-rating, only to find out the nudity is of an elderly man. From here on, my blog will be a shriveled old guy. Excited?
  

To discuss sand in uncomfortable places and Alicia Sacramone

Alicia Sacramone, Alicia Sacramone, Alicia Sacramone.

(Wait for it...)
Sweet- I think my visitor total just shot up. At least, that's what I'm assuming based on the Google search phrases that led several people to my site in recent days. Let's just say they weren't looking for somewhat witty, somewhat narcissistic blog entries from a York, PA metrosexual.
Evidently, the key to increased traffic is claiming an Olympic gymnast is your girlfriend (excuse me... "Alicia Sacramone girlfriend hot sexy nude"... that should do the trick).
Although I hope those of you who Google stumbled over here stick around, I'm sure you left disappointed that I'm not actually her boyfriend (Google phrase that got them here: "Alicia Sacramone's boyfriend), that I don't have any Perez Hilton-esque shots of her (phrase: "Alicia Sacromone crotch shots") and, well, this one speaks for itself: Phrase "Sacramone still trembling from the incredible sex she had with Phelps." (???!?!)
I did appreciate another fine selection, though: Phrase "Beach volley sand in crotch." Is sand in the crotch a turn on? I'd think that'd be uncomfortable.
If any of you Googlers care to elaborate, feel free.

No big post today; I will have an eventful weekend recap (Drinking alone! EZ bake oven! Tropic Thunder!) on Monday. I do hope, though, that you can leave some feedback on my co-blog with Tracie from yesterday, at least so I know if that's something I should do again in the future, plus to hear what you think about all this Olympic madness. And Michael Phelps never having clothes on.
Oh, and a quick thank you to ABitofMissTiff, who was so kind as to nominate me for the "Kick Ass Blogger Award." At this rate, I won't need to rely on Olympic gymnasts for popularity. Take that, Google porn seekers.
Of course, the award title reminds me of those old Heluva Good sour cream dip commercials with the girl saying, "It tastes great, but it's kind of naughty to say." That's right, Tiff. You bring out the precocious, innocent 8-year-old girl in me.

To discuss a new feature: Co-blogging the Olympics

To help me gain a better perspective on what women are thinking, I asked a real, live girl to write an extended blog entry with me for some perspective on the Olympic games. This means obligatory Michael Phelps ogling on her part, and failed attempts on my part to sound sexy and cool.

Tracie (represented by ‘T’) and I bonded over our love of “So You Think You Can Dance.” She’s a beautie from California, and her blog, http://decade3oftracielee.blogspot.com/ is all kinds of awesome, in part because she uses the phrase “Mormon Machination Convention” in a post about her fellow Mormon bloggers. Tracie has a few words of her own: Now that I feel comfortable in this blogging environment (what I like to call "First Base"), I have decided to move onto the next step: co-blogging (what I like to call "Second Base"). I've asked my good friend Andy, who doesn't look that much different from Michael Phelps, (READ: The hot single ladies love him, the hot single guys want to be with him, and he's pretty much an unstoppable force in the state of Pennsylvania, plus he's Alicia Sacramone's boyfriend. Just ask him.), to help discuss the "hot issues" of the Olympics.
Quick sidenote- I did not ask Tracie to compare me to Michael Phelps. But God will reward her for that. A little about me for newcomers from Tracie's site: I’m from Pennsylvania, I used to play clarinet and I’ve only been blogging for about two weeks now, so, in other words, I’ve got nothing going for me.

1. U.S. Women’s Gymnastics team
   T: I remember watching the ’96 Olympics and begging my mom to put me in gymnastics because I wanted to be in the Olympics, too. She crushed that dream as quickly as she did my elementary cheerleading and dancing careers, thus forever cementing my status as “teacher’s pet” instead of “cool and super popular cheerleader-dancer girl”. A: I was just the opposite. I was put in gymnastics when I was really young and stayed in it for years, even when I was the only boy in the class, possibly cementing my future in metro sexuality.
   T: I vote Alicia Sacramone for "Women’s Gymnastics Poster Child ‘08." She emanates the gymnastics vibe. She has the cute little face with the high ponytail circa 1984 with the super-toned but somewhat stocky yet not in any way fat body, and I just want to pat her head and say “It’s okay, Alicia, it’s okay you lost the gold, everyone will forgive you because you’re just the cutest little thing.” Maybe one day she’ll get that coveted “Wheaties” contract U.S. Olympians lust after. Until then, she’ll have to settle (and I mean this in the nicest way, Andy) for the title of Silver Medalist/Apple of Andy’s Eye. A: I'm with you on voting Alicia poster child, if only because that means there would be posters of her available. Did you know that she became an Internet sensation the night of the team competition- and it was because of her looks. True, but sad story. It helps her case, I think, that she actually looks like a woman among girls. You know, she actually has a chest. And has had her monthly visits from Aunt Flo before (I'm talking to you, China).
2. U.S. men’s gymnastics
   T: Does this bother anyone else? I’m anti-gymnasts-looking-at-the-television-cameras and saying hi and/or waving while at the competition. I prefer the clueless Romanians and old-school US teams who didn’t acknowledge the cameras that were shoved in their faces for the precious moments of reaction the TV director is constantly calling for. Come on, people, we want to see the focus and determination and self-discipline of gymnasts totally fixated on the competition. You make us lose a little faith with each smile into the camera, wave into the lens. We think, “Are they really focusing on the competition? Are they really mentally preparing themselves for the next event?” Maybe the ’08 men’s and women’s gymnastics teams should have focused more on the competition than the television cameras. Maybe this is the reason why we didn’t get higher than a bronze or silver in the team competition. Hmmm? Hmmmmm?
   A: No, the reason we didn't get the gold is because my gymnast girlfriend, Alicia, has the balancing skills of an inebriated clown on a tightrope, and because the Chinese male gymnasts are built in factories. I was getting tired of the U.S. male gymnasts trying to convince themselves they were competing in a more manly sport, like football, by screaming "U.S.A., baby! Number one!" over and over. Nobody is so patriotic that they need to shout out their nationality because they stuck a vault landing. If that's the case, I should start shouting "U.S.A. baby!" every time I go grocery shopping. Or change lanes. Or roll through traffic signals.
3. Swedish wrestler throwing bronze medal on floor at ceremony:
   T: Can we say “sore loser” any louder? Can we all act our age? Can we stop acting like babies? Can we show respect for the Olympics and the other athletes? Can we be grateful that we even medaled at all? Can we be grateful we are even IN the Olympics? Can we be grateful we are living, breathing human beings without any major disabilities? Can we be GRATEFUL that we are ALIVE??????
   A: Tracie, you feeling okay? Are you a little bitter? I'll talk to your mom; maybe we can still get you in gymnastics. Will you wear one of those leotards? Better yet, will you wrestle? With me, perhaps?
4. Swimming
   T: Four words: Michael. Phelps. Ryan. Lochte. Now, Andy, I don’t know if you’ll understand this at all, but let me be the voice for the Women of the World: I would like to take this time to publicly thank Mama Phelps and Mama Lochte for enrolling their boys in the local private swim club that spurred their fantastic careers, without which we might never see these beautiful men in Speedos/super tight body suits on a daily basis for 14 days straight.
   A: I do appreciate the women's point of view on this, although I wish when I walk around in a Speedo, I'd get the same response. I mean, the pastor told me it was a full body baptism. I don't know why those church ladies were so upset. (T: And how old were you wore a Speedo to church???) A: My fault. By Speedo, I meant wrapped in Jesus’ love. But here's what I'm trying to figure out: The gender of the swimmers. There are some (supposedly) female swimmers that, with their goggles, swimsuit and cap on, no longer look like girls. They look gender neutral. Like my recent dates. (T: Ugh, who are you dating?) A: Your mom.
5. Michael Phelps
   T: amazing, astonishing, astounding, deiform, divine, fantastic, fantastical, godlike, idol, marvelous, miraculous, pantheon, phenomenal, prime mover, prodigious, providence, stupendous, unbelievable, wonderful, wondrous. A: Just to clarify- you think he's good? Since the Olympics began, I've realized there are many things that, unlike regular people, Michael Phelps will never do: perform a bad backstroke, sing off key, sin, eat an entire box of Thin Mints, forget an anniversary, lie, lose in an event, wear a shirt, die, or ask for directions. At least, that's what I gather from the sexually-charged gushing of the two male announcers. (T: They do seem a bit like 12 year old girls giggling and gossiping about the cute boy in the back of class).
6. Young China girls
   T: I am so over the debates of whether or not these girls are under the age of 16. OBVIOUSLY they are (that required capital letters). China hasn’t properly disposed of the evidence. It has been reported TWICE (again with the capital) in major Chinese newspapers that He Kexin was born Jan. 1, 1994, this birth date making her too young to compete, thus making the true winners (if we are to abide by all the rules) of the Women’s Team Finals, Team USA. I say, Darn you, IOC!!! (International Olympic Committee) You need to make an investigation, force the Chinese to admit to fraud, de-throne them, make Alicia Sacramone feel better while giving the gold to the US and be on your merry way! The US Gymnastics peoples are not calling for an investigation, as following the guidelines of proper Olympic etiquette would be that they show grace and class for the Silver Medal (take a hint from them, O Mighty Wrestler from Sweden!) and not complain. China disrespects everything about the sport by falsifying ages to win the gold in their own darned country. A: You must be jacked. You forcibly used capitalization, and you used the IOC's name in vain. There's a simple solution to all this. Have one of the male gymnasts hit on one of the Chinese girls. Then, find out if that constitutes a crime. This plan will work perfectly, just as soon as you find a male gymnast that likes girls.
7. Synchronized swimming: Who came up with this sport?
   T: If I was a feminist, I might be offended the Olympics supports a “sport” (Is it a sport? Is it REALLY a sport?) that involves pretty girls (A: Not always!) swimming in unison, wearing make-up, with smiles plastered on their faces while dancing ballet-like moves in the water. But seeing as I’m a “girly-girl” (does that make me anti-feminist?), I won’t lose any sleep over this. A: Not sure that makes you anti-feminist, Tracie, but go vote and burn a bra, just in case... There are other sports I doubt are needed in the Olympics. Did you see the white water kayaking competition? Not one of those people looked like they had control. One of the top performers actually flipped upside down. I think if any part of your Olympic experience involves you paddling for your life in a manmade river, something's wrong. Also, did you catch the women's fencing event? They looked like robotic beekeepers. And they moaned a lot. And I do mean moan. It was awkward watching it. I was waiting for them to light a cigarette after and compliment each other's thrusting.
8. Beach volleyball
   T: We (girls) want to have bodies like Kerri and Misty and date boys like Phil, Jake and Sean. Vice-versa, Andy?
   And what is this about the “bikini debate”? Can I say this any clearer? SAND = SWIMSUITS. What was that Tracie? Oh, Sand = Swimsuits. Duh. Let the athletes wear their athletic swimsuits while playing on sand (it’s an Inter-Galactic Law that one must wear a swimsuit while biding time on or near sand-like surfaces) and let’s be done with it. There. The debate is over.
   A: Not quite right on the first point, Tracie. I'd like a body like those guys, but Kerri and Misty both have bodies like the guys, too. (T: What?? No way!! Girls, [and boys too] raise your hand if you like Kerri Walsh’s body!) A: What you just heard there were crickets. Guys don’t want to date a woman who is in much, much better shape. We get jealous easily. So either way, that works. I did appreciate that there were female cheerleaders, for no reason, at some of the women's sand volleyball events. Classy move by the Chinese.
   I think there are far more issues with the swimsuits worn by the male synchronized divers. Those were the smallest suits I've ever seen, including birthday ones (T: A little reminiscent of “Thunder from Down Under”, so say my sources). Another awkward moment. It's truly an Olympic miracle.
   
9. Doping
   A: I'll start the last one. There was a Korean guy who got his medals taken away for doping. Swimming? Nope. Cycling? Nope. Try air pistol shooting. First off- you can get a medal for shooting an air pistol???? (T: I Googled it. ‘Tis true, it’s an Olympic sport) Can I get one for my Nerf gun? Second, the guy was using muscle relaxants. At what point did he have the conversation of, "You know, I just can't cut it this year. I better juice up. The sport of air pistol shooting is just getting too hard these days." T: Or maybe he was thinking, “Dictator of country will kill me unless I win an Olympic medal. Must. Use. Beta-Blocker!” What else could possibly freak him out enough to drug himself to keep from trembling? IDK, my BFF Rose?
   If shooting can be an Olympic sport, let’s take your Nerf Gun, Andy, and put it to good use in what I would like to propose as the next Olympic Sport for London Olympics 2012; a game of skill, determination, precision, and self-discipline: Nerf Jenga. Sound weird? Yes. Sound scary? Maybe for the faint of heart. Sound like a good idea? I think so.
   Step 1: Put a Jenga puzzle tower on a table.
   Step 2: Stand 6 feet away (Nerf Jenga Association regulations).
   Step 3: Take your Nerf gun.
   Step 4: Shoot out pieces one at a time, then proceed in normal Jenga manner of putting knocked out pieces on top, to build a high tower. Take turns.
   Step 5: Whoever knocks it over first, loses.
   I can testify that if you use the Nerf gun with the little round darts, it will not, I repeat, NOT knock over if you aim correctly. Trust me.
   A: I’ll take your word for it. Man, I really need to find an Olympic sport to compete in. Maybe I’ll start training for curling.

Anything we missed? Leave comments... I know there's someone out there who's got thoughts on China forcing that little girl to lip synch during the opening ceremony. And if you enjoyed the co-blog idea, let me know and I'll try to do it again in the future.

To discuss gymnastics, my junk and my new girlfriend

To get you over the hump today, it's another post (I expect to be compensated, both comment wise and with your first born). I decided you might want to hear what goes through my head when I watch a bunch of teenage girls compete for Olympic glory in gymnastics, as was broadcast Tuesday night. There will be more Olympic thoughts later this week, but this should whet your Beijing appetite:

:01 Call the Embassy! China has 9-year-olds competing. No, seriously. Not one of their girls looks old enough. Even child lover R. Kelly said, “Yo, I ain’t touching dat.”… They also have more eye shadow on than the whores in Miss Saigon’s opening number, and those are musical theater whores.*

....(added 5:30 p.m.) This backs me up, from USAToday: "The Chinese look tiny and young — no one except Cheng Fei is even 5-0, and their average weight is 77 pounds. Liukin, Chellsie Memmel, Peszek and Sacramone are 5-0 or taller; the average weight for the U.S. is 106.5.
There are doubts on whether three Chinese women — He, Yang and Jiang Yuyuan — meet the minimum age requirement of 16."
So, there!

:04 The announcers openly question the age of 16-year-old China gymnast Deng Linlin, who sticks her vault landing. I feel moderately better about my previous comment.

:08 There’s a commercial for a movie about Chihuahuas. Sweet day in the morning- Who green lighted that? I own a Chihuahua, and I could care less. All my dog does is poop, hump and sleep… The girl from Coyote Ugly is in this movie. I had such high hopes for her after she starred alongside John Goodman and wrote a song for LeAnn Rimes. How the mighty have fallen.

:11 So, um, am I allowed to think U.S. gymnast Alicia Sacramone is hot? No? Well, she’s 20, so screw you.

:20 All the U.S. girls do well on the vault. I used to be in gymnastics- for several years, actually. The vault never was appealing for me, probably because running toward a springboard and contorting myself in midair sounded more like an aeronautical death sentence than a sport. I’m no Kerri Strug.

:28 Ok, I’ve got to say it. I do not remember women’s gymnastic outfits in the past looking like dominatrix attire. Those have to be the tightest outfits ever created, and they are on the bodies of girls not old enough to know the precious remorse of a one-night stand. Were the Shannon Miller-era leotards too loose? Is the idea to keep them fresh and preserved, trapping air out, so that they don’t age as quickly as us mortals? Every few minutes, some camera guy has a close-up of a butt. But it’s not enjoyable butt. It’s 15-year-old butt. And, well, that’s wrong.

:35 Nastia Liukin does an amazing uneven bars routine that gets a 16.9, an incredible score. On a related note, one of the few clear, distinct memories I have of gymnastics is when all the kids in my group were trying out the uneven bars. I was about 9 or 10, I’d say. When I got up there and started moving around, I got stuck with one leg on each side of a bar. I couldn’t move. My mom, who was nearby for some reason, asked the coach what happened. The coach calmly explained that he thought I got stuck on my junk. Junk stuck on the bar, kids. For the U.S. team’s sake, I’m glad Nastia didn’t get her junk stuck on the bar.

:39 Former U.S. coach and Mark Twain mustache enthusiast Bela Karolyi goes on a heavily-accented diatribe about Liukin’s performance, his love of Russian winters or his desire to scrub himself with cream cheese (just a guess).

:40 Holy crap! They’re showing Bela watching Liukin’s performance, except they’re using a green screen so he is superimposed in front of the replay. He looks like a contestant on Whose Line Is It Anyway trying to guess what’s going on behind him. The audience at home doesn’t realize Karolyi thinks he’s watching a cage match involving goats and gerbils.

:46 A brief swimming interruption, which includes a quote that will make 12-year-old boys everywhere giggle like, uh, 12-year-old girls: “Coventry is the best breast-stroker of the bunch.”

:55 After the Chinese girls make the uneven bars their daddy, more swimming. The US men’s relay team wins by about 10 miles, as the announcers are audibly aroused and say Michael Phelps’ name with hints of desire and longing. And I understand why. Michael Phelps is just like us. He puts his speedos on each day, one leg at a time. The only difference is, he breaks world records. And wants more cow bell.

1:00 Who came up with the balance beam? The entire goal is to not fall on your face. And keeping your balance by waving your arms is a deduction.

1:08 Alicia is now my girlfriend.

1:20 Shawn Johnson nails her balance beam routine. The U.S. is behind by 1 point right now. I quietly and respectfully pee my pants in anticipation.

1:31 Alicia misses a landing on the floor routine, after already falling off the beam, and that likely eliminates America’s chance for a gold. She looks close to tears, as her coach basically ignores her when she walks off. As Alicia’s man, I defend her honor and pepper the coach with profanities and disdain.

1:39 China only needs to average about a 14.5 on the floor exercise to win. I think I could get that score.

1:45 China gets the gold, making it two for two in team gymnastics. For those of you keeping score, that means China is now better than America in both gymnastics and manufacturing electronics.

1:48 Back to Michael Phelps coverage. NBC execs have a collective wet dream.

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* Yes, I just compared innocent teenage girls to prostitutes. God will get his revenge one day when my teenage daughter rebels against me by sleeping with the football team. During halftime. On the field. With the marching band playing “Wild Thing.”

To discuss some quick updates...

Taking a break from the longer posts (I'm not a freakin' machine) for some quick highlights of recent days and conversations:

• While watching men's synchronized diving (?!?!), a few coworkers and I talked about how the announcers at every event don't even try to hide their pro-America bias and try to create rivalries amongst countries where none really exist. It would be better, we thought, if there more countries competing against the U.S. in the Olympics that we really don't get along with (French don't count, freedom fries notwithstanding)... How about an Iraqi vs. American water polo match? Even better, we'll level the playing field by choosing a sport more in line with the Taliban... So, let's try competitive synchronized suicide bombing! There won't be any qualifying rounds, and the winner takes home virgins in heaven instead of gold medals. If the U.S. loses, they pull out of Iraq. I see a win-win here. Option B: Weapons of Mass Destruction relay race.
  
• After spending the weekend in my hometown, I now have one of my mom's 9x9 baking dishes. We'll see if this one has destructive tendencies. My mom wasn't nearly as amazed by randomly shattering cookware as I was.
  
• While driving back to my house, I listened to these songs, in order and uninterrupted: Dre and Snoop, "Nuthin' But a G Thang," Vertical Horizon, "Everything You Want," Debussy, "Beau Soir," Lil Wayne, "Lollipop," Coldplay, "Sparks."... Holy eclectic. While I'm totally gangsta (to prove it, I can rap "Big Poppa" or "Gin and Juice" anytime), my music tastes are a little gay, even if Beau Soir is an incredible song and one you should download immediately. The list was done with"shuffle song" mode on my iPod. "Bring Him Home" from Les Miserables even came up. Have you listened to any random songs lately?
• Found out more of my college friends are getting married and/or getting pregnant. In related news, WTF.
• I haven't seen Mazda 3 girl since last week. I'm wondering if she is timing her entrances and exits to avoid having to talk to the weird guy with the undersized wiener dog.
• One of my readers is semi-famous this month. Another is making me consider what my requirements are for potential dates.
  
• Great feedback on the holding hands post. Glad you liked it. Glad you like the whole blog, actually. Feel free to give me topic ideas. Like, now.