Olympic Feverin’
I love the Olympics. I really do. And it’s really fun here in Bmore, since our hometoen boy Phelps is kicking ass (tho he is an ass in real life. if you need proof, ask.)
But I find myself thinking what if? What if I hadn’t quit every sport I ever started? I could be at the OLYMPICS!! Gymnastics? The lady told me I’m too tall and lanky(I wanted to be Dominique Dawes, but by fifth grade I was bigger than her). Mean Russian woman. Basketball? The coach told me being tall was no longer good enough to make the team. Unfortunate bald man. Volleyball? My orthopedist told me if I played any longer, I’d have the knees of 94 year-old. Grumpy dude with a degree.
Tennis? Quit. Badminton? Quit. I could’ve been all up in the Olympic grill, but alas, I ain’t. So for the last week, I keep having the same conversation with my mother: “You could’ve been an Olympic swimmer. Why in the hell did you quit?! Phelps make like a million dollars a second! You cut off my path to millions!!”
It’s been quite delusional in my household of late. Oh wells. I watch and hope I’ll be able to go to the 2012 in London. They speak my language there. So it should be all good. But it is pretty cool to test my memory of Chinese. And I always understand, or think I do, or put it together sense they always translate it into English. It’s def one of those things.
Happy Sleepy Sunday!
3 years ago • Notes