Day 162
I think a few Olympic apologies are in order.
Other than some rather bland e-mails agreeing with one of yesterday’s observations about beach volleyball I received three that warranted a note of forgiveness.
One was from a woman who pointed out I was neglecting the interests of a high percentage of the female readership by not mentioning the bulges that are so prominent in the male competitor’s nether regions when they wear those short Lycra things. Although it wasn’t really something I wanted to put at the forefront of my mind I couldn’t really avoid it after watching one of the overnight cycling heats.
The winner had dismounted and was jogging towards the camera, possibly to conduct an interview, and provided the viewing public with a sight that couldn’t be missed. Either he’d been blessed with a truly enormous package or he’d forgotten his suitcase and decided to store his luggage in his underpants.
It looked like he had something alive trapped down there and it was desperately trying to get out.
So, sorry; I take your point…even though I still shudder at the memory.
The next correspondence came from a rather stoic person who demanded I include some of the sailing classes in this diary. Firstly I think you’ve got the wrong idea about the rationale of these pages if you think I’m going to write anything remotely flattering about it and also sailing is one of the most pointless events to put on camera…it’s effectively hours and hours of televised sea.
Even as part of a team, sailing is a solitary pastime; it’s insular and therefore only of interest to either those participating or directly involved.
Very much the same principle as masturbation.
The only bit I found entertaining was when one of them fell in.
However, I do apologise for missing the team who capsized as I’m sure that would have been pretty entertaining too.
The final point of discussion came from a friend of mine who asked why I hadn’t mentioned a rather sinister aspect concerning the women’s gymnastics.
I must admit to being largely unaware of this discipline as it held slightly less interest than watching my toenails grow but curiosity got the better of me.
Immediately I saw his point.
None of the competitors looked more than eight years old. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s wonderful that children get exercise but with a combination of some very suspect camera angles and a propensity of older men in the audience it was bordering on paedophilia.
I won’t even delve into the beam exercises.
With a combination of pre-pubescent, precocious little sprogs strutting around like they had something very smelly and unpleasant on their top lip and a scoring system that defied any kind of logic, I found myself reaching for the remote control sooner than anticipated. All in all quite an un-nerving experience.
So, thanks for pointing this out, sorry I missed that one.
Unlike the gymnastics, a great deal of entertainment was gleaned from the tournament I qualified for a couple of days ago. By reaching the dizzy heights of 283rd I ended with a $1.60 profit and made by account look almost positive.
Another result like that and I’d be swaggering around like one of those fucking gymnasts.
On a completely unrelated point, I also discovered that in addition to the occasional medal competitors at this year’s games were also given twenty condoms each. With several thousand competitors in such close proximity this is a highly sensible idea but possibly a fraction optimistic…assuming a 10:1 ratio of heterosexual encounters plus a relevant deduction for partnerships and percentage factor for gay athletes, it works out to about 8.4 bangs per athlete.
Which gives me an idea for a new series of events in the 2012 games…
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $2.27
Other than some rather bland e-mails agreeing with one of yesterday’s observations about beach volleyball I received three that warranted a note of forgiveness.
One was from a woman who pointed out I was neglecting the interests of a high percentage of the female readership by not mentioning the bulges that are so prominent in the male competitor’s nether regions when they wear those short Lycra things. Although it wasn’t really something I wanted to put at the forefront of my mind I couldn’t really avoid it after watching one of the overnight cycling heats.
The winner had dismounted and was jogging towards the camera, possibly to conduct an interview, and provided the viewing public with a sight that couldn’t be missed. Either he’d been blessed with a truly enormous package or he’d forgotten his suitcase and decided to store his luggage in his underpants.
It looked like he had something alive trapped down there and it was desperately trying to get out.
So, sorry; I take your point…even though I still shudder at the memory.
The next correspondence came from a rather stoic person who demanded I include some of the sailing classes in this diary. Firstly I think you’ve got the wrong idea about the rationale of these pages if you think I’m going to write anything remotely flattering about it and also sailing is one of the most pointless events to put on camera…it’s effectively hours and hours of televised sea.
Even as part of a team, sailing is a solitary pastime; it’s insular and therefore only of interest to either those participating or directly involved.
Very much the same principle as masturbation.
The only bit I found entertaining was when one of them fell in.
However, I do apologise for missing the team who capsized as I’m sure that would have been pretty entertaining too.
The final point of discussion came from a friend of mine who asked why I hadn’t mentioned a rather sinister aspect concerning the women’s gymnastics.
I must admit to being largely unaware of this discipline as it held slightly less interest than watching my toenails grow but curiosity got the better of me.
Immediately I saw his point.
None of the competitors looked more than eight years old. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s wonderful that children get exercise but with a combination of some very suspect camera angles and a propensity of older men in the audience it was bordering on paedophilia.
I won’t even delve into the beam exercises.
With a combination of pre-pubescent, precocious little sprogs strutting around like they had something very smelly and unpleasant on their top lip and a scoring system that defied any kind of logic, I found myself reaching for the remote control sooner than anticipated. All in all quite an un-nerving experience.
So, thanks for pointing this out, sorry I missed that one.
Unlike the gymnastics, a great deal of entertainment was gleaned from the tournament I qualified for a couple of days ago. By reaching the dizzy heights of 283rd I ended with a $1.60 profit and made by account look almost positive.
Another result like that and I’d be swaggering around like one of those fucking gymnasts.
On a completely unrelated point, I also discovered that in addition to the occasional medal competitors at this year’s games were also given twenty condoms each. With several thousand competitors in such close proximity this is a highly sensible idea but possibly a fraction optimistic…assuming a 10:1 ratio of heterosexual encounters plus a relevant deduction for partnerships and percentage factor for gay athletes, it works out to about 8.4 bangs per athlete.
Which gives me an idea for a new series of events in the 2012 games…
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $2.27