Misty May and the Avocado Olympics


Misty May-Treanor, who could totally kick my ass.

I don’t know if you’ve heard in the last three minutes, but the Olympics games are going on as we speak. If you’re watching on NBC, it’s the boring stuff between the Subway commercials offering avocado on top of everything from breakfast sandwiches to your naked body. The latter service is only available at select participating Subways, which I will share with you once this blog entry reaches ten thousand hits.

I am writing about the Olympics because I am physically unable to think about anything else, such is the “shock and awe” advertising strafing we have been forced to endure. It used to just be a box of freakin’ Wheaties, now there’s little fresh-faced, all-American moppet faces everywhere you turn. The mainstay Olympic sponsors are Coca-Cola, McDonald’s and Visa, which makes perfect sense since our finely toned athletes are constantly eating Big Macs, washing them down with sugary drinks and paying with the change they found at the bottom of the pool because they have less credit than me. Seriously, these kids look like they’re carved from granite and have been subsisting on actual washboards swallowed whole. And the guys are pretty fit too.

It’s hard to watch, and not just because of the speedos. These athletes spent four years getting into the kind of uber-shape that makes most spectators look at their flabby bellies and convince themselves that with enough hard work and dedication…ooh look, Subway’s got avocado! Personally I have no such illusions. If I were in prison with Misty May-Treanor, I would end up being her bitch quicker than you could yell, “back row attack!” And not in the good sense of that phrase. Have you seen her leg muscles? It’s just an educated guess, but I don’t think she owns a nutcracker.

(I’m just kidding Misty! You’re an American hero! Please don’t come to my house and crush me! And for God’s sake don’t get Kerri all riled up!)

By the time of this writing, Michael Phelps has already become the most decorated athlete in Olympic history. Between his 18 gold medals and Tim Lincicum’s two Cy Young awards, it’s going to be nearly impossible to convince my two boys to lay off the blunts. Thanks guys. Phelps is retiring, and has vowed to never again enter the cold, cold pool water, even though the only reason anyone knows his name or is even remotely interested in anything he has to say is because of what he’s done in there. Phelps without water is going to be like Dana Plato without Diff’rent Strokes—you’ll watch out of lurid fascination, but it won’t be pretty.

Speaking of lurid fascination—is there not a shocking lack of clothing so far in these Olympic games? I don’t mean to come off as a prude, or worse a sex-obsessed pervert (though I am admittedly one of those two), but when did the Summer Games turn into such a sausage-fest? And don’t get me started on the guys! You see I did that joke again, because the women are built like men. No, stop, these gals are dead sexy! Just because the guys stuff and the girls don’t has no bearing on anyone’s attractiveness. A lot of men (and certain women) prefer bodies with no curves or a perceptible waist!

These are exactly the kind of comments that got me in trouble with Misty when we were both in prison.

I admit it, I’m just jealous. I look at my middle-aged, surgery-ravaged body and can’t help but think that if I had stayed with the program and took my training seriously…you mean avocado, right on the sandwich? Where do they come up with this stuff?

I was watching synchronized swimming with Mary El and we both commented on the absolute dedication it must take to do what these athletes do, most with no motive other than to have a chance to compete with the best the world has to offer. We also commented that if either of us tried to get our foot to do that curling thing, we would end up in a perpetual spasm most likely ending with amputation. And they should back off a little on the makeup. All right, a lot.

So yeah, I admire them all, and wish I had their bodies. And while we’re in the confessional mood…although I made a good show of it, I didn’t really resist Misty all that hard. Not that it would have mattered if I did—that girl is ripped! 

    • theresa petti butler galimi
    • August 7th, 2012

    Love it, Love you………….

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