Monday, August 13, 2012

The Olympics are over, and now I want to kill myself

Wanna throw around some balls?
 You wake up on any given day in the past few weeks and ask yourself, 'Is it too early for me to watch porn?' yes, but it's ok because the Olympics are on. I mean, that's basically porn isn't it? Minus the gymnastics because they are all teenagers and that's just wrong and gross. But hey, I'm not above muting the swim meets and getting just way too excited every time the USA medals, and so not for the reason that you think.
Lochte. #JEAH.
After the cringe-worthy everlasting bullshit clusterfuck mess that was the opening ceremony that we all had to deal with and be reminded of the fact that England makes really funny looking cars, the games officially began, and Jezebel was a buzz with one Ryan Lochte, the swimmer with a merman's fins, face of an angel, and brains like swiss cheese. We were introduced to his ridiculous collection of day-glow kicks, his American flag grillz, and his catchphrase ; 'Jeah', all of which we could do without because we all want Lochte just to do what all the others on his team do; shut up and swim.
I used to be friends with this one girl, no more. And you want to know why? Because we cannot stop being in a hypothetical completely unimaginable scenario argument as to who gets to lay Nathan Adrian when he gets back to the states, talking about it with a bleeding heart preoccupying adult fanaticism as if it's totally going to happen for real. Ergo, Nathan Adrian ruins friendships.
Nathan Adrian in speedo a.k.a. masturbation fodder for most of the American population.
If you're a guy of course you tuned into the beach volleyball match. I mean it's as close to soft-core we get at 8 o'clock in the morning. Muscly girls in tight spandex bikinis grunting like pornstars on steroids lunging for balls, all the while being very hot and sweaty to where their torsos glisten like Edward Cullen in sunlight. Tell me that's not a porn premise.
Hotter than shit US Goal keeper Hope Solo returns for the 2012 games and kicks serious ass all the way to the Gold Medal podium. By the by she made headlines months before by admitting that the Olympic village is one giant constant done to death fuckfest.
But after a painfully long and equally as useless closing ceremony celebrating British fashion (which is of course the first thing I think about when I think Olympics), and reminding us all what rubbish the British national anthem is, and letting me know that Prince Harry got fat, it was all finally mercifully over. US properly kicked ass, medaling head and shoulders above the rest, and Michael Phelps became the most celebrated and decorated Olympian since Larisa Latynina of the Soviet Union over 3 decades ago, and reminding us all that the Vault has no affect on our patriotism. No longer will we be able to sit at home all day not doing anything productive and only salivating every time they show Matt Grevers' biceps, Lolo Jones' abs, or Misty Mae-Treanor's rock hard ass. All we have is new episodes of Breaking Bad, so we can still ogle over Jesse Pinkman but they don't dress him in a comically small thong do they? Also, Breaking Bad makes you think, which is my favorite reason to watch the Olympics; no thinking. I'm going to miss you, see you in 4 years (not two years, because I couldn't care less about anything in the Winter Olympics sans figure skating). Now if you'll excuse me, I have swimming gay fan fiction to write. Damn it, someone beat me to it! (See below) 

Below some links to get ya'll hot and bothered.

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