Wait. Is that the worst part?
Priorities. Get 'em straight!
* * *
We were at my parents' house for a holiday and the television got turned on so the fans could watch some sporting event. My brother-in-law looked at me and rolled his eyes.
"Well there goes the day," I muttered.
"Sports is like sex," he whispered back. "You're not supposed to watch it."
That got him a high five.
* * *
You'd think all this Olympics stuff would inspire some doubling-down on workouts. As far as I can tell, though, it's having the opposite effect. Seeing Jordyn Wieber in tears over a darned-near perfect athletic performance is just freaking depressing. If a seventeen-year-old athlete in peak condition is a failure, what are the other six billion of us? I'm willing to bet money that sales of Pringles rise substantially during the Olympics. How else to drown the planetary population's sorrow at being a race of losers?
* * *
My friend C. found the best response yet to Olympymania. She has her kids participating in housecleaning Olympiads. Whoever works hardest, gets to stand on the tallest chair for the medal ceremonies.
Hey. Daughter o' Mine! Get over here! It's a race to the sink!
- - - -
Today soundtrack: Bugler's Dream, the Olympics theme song.