Breakfast of champions, bitches.

The Summer Olympics have kicked off in Old England as I write these words at home in New England. Yes, once again I have been denied the opportunity to represent my country on a worldwide stage.

My non-acceptance into the games is due to a series of unfortunate events. Very much like Lemony Snickets. Once again I failed to file the proper paperwork, or any paperwork for that matter. I didn’t even receive any type of literature on how to sign up. Not even a brochure. Way to fall asleep at the wheel United States Olympic Committee. How’s a boy supposed to fulfill his childhood dreams of bringing home a gold medal and getting his picture on a box of Wheaties, when you can’t even give him the common courtesy of junk-mailing him an application? It’s appalling what this world has come to.

My inability to find a suitable leotard also hindered my Olympic dreams. You would think that it would be as easy as going to Rent-A-Center and picking up something in a boys husky, but it’s not. First of all, they don’t rent leotards at Rent-A-Center. Apparently those are more of a “buy it/own it” item. But when I go to purchase one there’s a lot of factors involved. Buying the right fabric is important, because I want a breathable material. But Leviticus states that I’m not to wear clothing woven from two different fabrics. Naturally I will only wear bible approved athletic apparel, it’s how I was raised. But that really limits me in my choices. Then I wind up sinking to the bottom of the swimming pool in my woolen bathing pants, getting laughed at in a myriad of exotic languages by the other athletes in their sleek and sexy poly-lycra blend suits. Fucking heathens.

Another reason I’m never invited to join in any reindeer games is that I show no particular athletic ability for any of the various sports in the Olympics. It makes it hard to earn a spot on the team if you do wind up getting an interview, and they ask you what you’re good at and you say “I’m really good at trivia and I enjoy playing Xbox. They like athletes who know how to “play the game”. The USOC is very exclusionary like that. Their actions are borderline racist, you say? No they’re not. Those are your words, not mine. But I can’t stop you from starting some massive letter writing campaign to protest my shoddy treatment at the hands of these soulless dream crushing borderline racist jerkfaces. You know, if that’s what you think you need to do.

I think if I ever decided to try gymnastics I could probably become like one of the top two or three gymnasts in the world. But that would take months, and I’d have to shell out a shitload of sheckles on talcum powder and ankle tape. I really don’t have that kind of lootcakes to spend right now with all my funds tied up in this sandwich that I’m hoping to get in the next couple of days. Some potato chips and a Fresca would be sweet too, but that’s unrealistic.

Hey, I’m not Thurston Howell the Fourth.

3 responses »

  1. Wait. I thought I already commented on this. Is it deja vu or dementia? I still think most Wheaties dudes are douches.

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