Bar Stool Olympic Judges

I'm not really a big winter olympics person. Actually, that's an understatement. I don't give one miserable rat's ass about the winter olympics. Yeah, that about captures my attitude toward what is admittedly one of the largest and most significant sporting events to come to the world stage.

I mean, come on. I can't stand winter, so why would I have any time for the winter olympics? I know everybody celebrates the will, determination, and discipline of the athletes. I just mock their idiotic willingness to stand around outside in sub-zero temperatures and hurl themselves, feet fully tethered to a glofiried skateboard, at breakneck speed off of structures called "half pipes". But hey, whatever floats their boat, right?

Now the summer olympics...I can get with that. Running and throwing heavy stuff in track and field events isn't necessarily my cup of tea, but at least the athletes can work on their tans while they're at it. And the spectators run very little risk of freezing to death. Have you seen the chumps in the stands at the winter olympics? All the overpriced concession stand hot chocolate ain't gonna warm those bitches up.

One thing I will say in favor of the athletes at both the winter and summer olympics is that they are so well prepared that they actually make their respective sports look easy.

I sit there in my living room watching the olympics, washing my chips and salsa down with a Bud Light thinking, "Shoot...Stephen and I could dominate that pairs figure skating yoke!" I seriously think that if only Stephen had a fully body spandex leotard and I had a feathered tutu, we'd be good to go. Mercifully, for the viewing public, we are not in possession of those articles of clothing, so you're safe for now.

I'm wiping my glass coffee table down with Windex and paper towels thinking, "Is THAT all there is to the mogul run?"

I watch a few ski long jumps and think, "I know where the German guy went wrong. It's all in the hand positioning. If I held my hands flat and palms facing downward like that Japanese guy, I'd win the gold." (Of course, I would also have to lose 140 lbs and shrink 8 inches to obtain the physique of the very aerodynamic Japanese man who won the gold, but that's just a minor detail)

Effortless. That's how the athletes make it look.

But of course I realize that these people train like 45 hours a day and that they live, eat, sleep, breath, and dream about their sports. They do nothign else. They are machines. I know that if I took to the ski jump mountain, I'd better have a last will and testament ready to go before they even sounded the "GO!" signal.

Moguls? Really? How do those people still have knees? How are they not hobbled? And that snowboard crap? How do they get that height, find their landing, and NOT bash their heads open off the ledge of the half pipe?

I guess the bottom line is that I realize that the appearance of effortlessness is just that...a mere appearance. These people are masters of their sport and they are at the Olympics for a reason.

Yesterday, Stephen and I went for lunch at a local pub. We had a beer while we watched a recap of the Olympic events that was being broadcast on the enormous TV.

We were more enteratined, I think, by the drunk next to us who saw fit to critique the performance handed in by each and every athlete. Nobody lived up to his stringent standards.

Lindsay Vonn (or whatever her name is) couldn't fool him! Everybody was trying to say that she skiied like a champ on her broken leg. And even though she managed to snag the gold, our neighbor at the bar saw right through her cherade. She didn't get enough lower body rotation, and her time was way off. She also slammed her poles into too many of the barriers, and her mid-course jumps really left a lot to be desired. She skiied like "an amateur" according to Tipsy McStagger.

After he offered this stinging critique, he took advantage of the television commercial to make his way to the bathroom. His own dismount from his bar stool was less than graceful. He nearly stumbled over the nacho-toting waitress and barely managed to break "slow shuffle" speed.

When he came back, he was quick to point out the flaws in Apolo Ohno's technique on the short course speed skating event. He waited too long to launch his attack on the skaters in the lead and should be embarrassed by his bronze finish. Tipsy McStagger then realized that his own attack on the beer taps was lacking in the speed department. He went to take a sip of his beer and was faced with an empty glass. In utter disgust, he beckoned the bartender over and proceeded to abraid him for not filling his glass in a timely manner. The bartender was shaken, but at least the heat was off of Apolo Ohno. Once the beer was filled, Ohno was back under fire. How could they even let this "loser" onto the team, Tipsy mused. I attempted to point out that Ohno is now the sigle most decorated American winter olympian. My argument held no water, however, as Tipsy declared it, "Hogwash!" I guess he showed me.

There was a break in the programming and Stephen and I took off. They were supposed to have hilights from the couples figure skating when the show resumed. I'm kind of sorry I didn't hear what Tipsy had to offer in the way of commentary.

Who needs Marv Albert, Peggy Flemming and Scott Hamilton ringside when Tipsy McStagger could do a much more entertaining commentary? But seriously, thank god Tipsyy isn't a judge. Nobody would win any medals at all. They'd never pass his stringent standards!