Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Going for the Gold: How Hard Can It Be?


















With the next summer Olympics only four short years away, I've decided I need to start preparing. You see, I'm going to win the Olympics.

The entire Olympics.

I'm going win all the gold medals and then have them melted down into the grandest tiara of all time. Then, I plan to sit atop a throne made of silver medals (as I plan to win those too) wearing my tiara and look down upon the failed "athletes" who will be made to serve me after the closing ceremony. They will all be forced to wear weighted chains made of bronze medals (property of yours truly as well) and bring me daiquiris while I celebrate my victory and get drunk.

Don't look so shocked. How do you think the original Olympians did it? Do you really think Theagenes of Thasos stood on the podium at the end of the 480 B.C.E. Olympiad wearing a track suit and humbly congratulating the silver and bronze medalists before rushing off to his Barbara Walters interview? Or that Milo of Kroton wrestled his way to victory in six consecutive Olympiads only to get a brief cameo on SNL and a deal with Nike (or Apollo)? No! Those guys sat on a podium while large breasted Greek women fed them grapes.

I'll need to start thinking about sponsors. I figure Victoria's Secret and Trojan will sponsor my Olympic dreams, considering all the money I throw their way. Oh, did I say Victoria's Secret? I meant to say Budweiser. With my sponsors in place, on to the training!

I've got a long road ahead of me. To be honest, I don't really run much. Or at all, actually. My knees make a bad grinding noise when I go up stairs. And when I swim, I usually have to stop mid-pool and catch my breath and rinse the spit out of my snorkel. Also, the doctor tells me that I might have something called "leather lung" from breathing all the asbestos in my attic back home. But, as they say, "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Therefore, I suspect I'm the strongest athlete of all time. The rest of my skill can be acquired through other avenues.

Consider, if you will, archery. Now, what is archery, really, but firing a pointed projectile at a target some distance away? I'm pretty good at darts. And I'm even better at quoting lines from the darts playing scene in Young Frankenstein (After all, this is Transyl-VANIA!), and I've found that this distracts my opponents perfectly. My fellow archers won't know what hit them when I begin my heckling. Against the rules, you say? No problem. I'll hide it deceptively behind compliments. "Excellent shot! What are you, a wood elf?" I'm counting on my heckling skills to get me through at least diving, cycling, and volleyball.

But there are times when heckling is not possible. Like, for instance, when your head is underwater. So I plan to rely on my feminine wiles to bring me success in the underwater sports. In short, I plan to swim topless. And put the tit back in competition.

Now, I know what you're thinking. How am I going to overcome the little problem that there are men's and women's exclusive sports? Like, since I am a woman, how on earth will I compete in, much less win, the men's competitions? Didn't I mention that I would be primarily topless throughout the Olympics? No one will care. (The gay men might notice and object, but I'll just have Liza Minelli played over the loudspeaker. They will be so busy doing Cabaret, they won't even notice the competition has begun.) My trampoline victory is pretty much already in the bag. And wrestling? Forget about it.

My one slight issue might come with gymnastics since I can't even do a single pull-up and haven't since fourth grade when our substitute teacher lifted us up to the bar so we could all have at least one and feel successful. Plus, I refuse to hurl myself end over end in a situation that could possibly break my neck. Therefore, I'll just have to ensure that everyone but me gets disqualified. Two words: cock tails. You know the kind. A little Red Bull, some male hormones, a few birth control pills, some laxatives. Some used condoms planted strategically around the room like party favors. "Party in my room, everyone!" and the next day during drug testing...you know. Good-bye, Michael Phelps. Hello, Marion Jones.

Really, if I keep my topless thing, cocktail mixing, and heckling going throughout the Olympics, I won't even have to train at all. I can just show up on the first day and take up some new activities. It will be like summer camp or something.

So, watch out in 2012. My year. My Olympics. If you're nice, I might share some of my endorsement money.

14 comments:

nadarine said...

cocktails, toplessness, and heckling: the three most important ingredients in a good weekend.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@nadarine: I've been watching a lot of Absolutely Fabulous this week. Yeah.

andBegorrah said...

In photoshopping: 5.7!!

jody! said...

today's fun (and only slightly) related fact:
my dad is a champion at archery. my brother and i had bows AND arrows growing up. we had a red beginner's bow and later something that was mildly dangerous looking and camouflaged. an effect that didn't work so well in our suburban backyard. and we had a bull's eye set up to practice. needless to say, i sucked at archery in gym class due to the school district's sub-standard equipment.



what does this have to do with you winning the 2012 olympics in every category? oh. hmm. well nothing, i suppose. i was having a self indulgent moment. yes, i do realize this is YOUR blog and not mine. okay, hold on. i'm sure i can make this comment about you and not about me. oh! right. i've got it. if you opt to train for the archery category, i know an excellent coach with over forty-five years of experience. there... are you happy? now this is about you again.

lalaland13 said...

Thank you, mayor. This is fabulous, and I needed cheering up. And the pic? Oh, priceless. I wish I could do Photoshop or something.

I'm going to the champion of fast-food eating. I'm excellent at it.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@andbegorrah: The irony is that I don't even have Photoshop. I just play around with my art/photo editing tools until it looks acceptable.

@jody!: Stop, you're turning me on.

@lalaland13: Seriously, I just used my crap photo editing tools and played around with it a bit. The challenge was shrinking my head to fit Mary Lou's body.

laia. said...

I only want to eat Bethties for the rest of my life.
THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS!

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@laia: Part of your complete breakfast.

Andrea said...

I could be on your Olympic team if the following were a sport: bus running, subway jumping, and wedging your body into exceedingly small spaces. "Serviceable express-to-local transfer. Ooh, nice body-bend around the guy who won't move. A double twist right into a seat! Amazing."

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@andrea: I don't know. You sound pretty good at that. If you defeated me in any of the competitions and spoiled my chances for a victory, my dreams would be dashed.

Don't forget the highly difficult neck twist you have to do in order to avoid bad subway breath.

bubblegumculture.com said...

You could clone yourself (which, I'm sure you'll be able to do, it'll be 2012, after all!)and win synchronized diving.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@bgc: But then I would have to kill my clone so that she doesn't try to steal my glory.

LipstickLibrarian said...

Isn't "Leather Lung" one of Rachel Zoe's nicknames?

peach said...

So I take it you are in London right now? I probably should have asked why you wanted to go topless sunbathing last week. I just figured it was your new "thing."