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What I Did (Not) on My Summer Vacation

September 2, 2008
Life, Miscellaneous

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You read the title right—now let’s dive right in!

Did Not Feel the Olympic Spirit (Much)

You would think I would have learned by now, but you’d be wrong: every time the Olympics roll around, I mock the morons who are going to sit and watch it on TV… and every time, I end up joining their ranks. Hello, fellow morons. Is there room for me on the couch?

Generally, I like the Winter Olympics better, because they have red-blooded sports like downhill skiing and and figure skating and that thing where a bunch of people get a sled going really fast on an iced-over track (which… sounds rather silly when put that way, but it’s FAST. And DANGEROUS. And that makes it a SPORT, people). The Summer Olympics, on the other hand, have things that are barely sports at all—trampolining? water polo? ping-pong? It is amazing that there are people in the world willing to admit that they spend their time doing such things, let alone that they are champions at it. Where I come from, madd skillz on the ping-pong table are considered a family shame, and are hidden from the public at all costs.

I did cheer on Michael Phelps (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Bat-Boy from the Weekly World News, but who is so good that I always end up saying DAMN THE TORPEDOES, FIRE MICHAEL PHELPS INSTEAD!) and Shawn Johnson (who is my favorite chipmunk-sized sportswoman EVER). Everyone else can go to hell, including those baby Chinese gymnasts who probably had to be hastily toilet-trained in order to participate. Normally the sight of a toddler taking a pratfall off the balance beam would worry me a bit, but hey, if they’re old enough to think blue eyeshadow is flattering, they’re old enough to suck it up and deal.

Did Not Find Bigfoot

… but then, neither did those morons in Georgia. What boggles my mind is that anyone took it seriously at all, period, but especially after seeing the photographs; the “body” looks exactly like what it is: a deflated costume crammed into a cooler. Maybe I should buy a rhinestone-studded jumpsuit and a black wig, stuff them into a box and claim I found Elvis.

Did Not Get Picked As McCain’s VP

… and this is where I have to stop typing, get up from the computer and do a happy little dance, which is what I have been doing every fifteen minutes since I heard who John McCain had picked as his running mate. Not only does his choice seem like a move made out of sheer desperation—just how friggin’ stupid does he think the Hillary supporters are, that we’d vote for a woman who’s the exact opposite of Clinton in every respect except for what’s in her bra and panties?—but he didn’t pick Tim Pawlenty, who has been the second-worst governor my state has had (the first would be Jesse Ventura, natch). Who had been prancing around all smug because he thought he was a shoo-in for the post. And who actually cleared his entire schedule for the day before the announcement, so he could go home to the Governor’s Mansion and wait for the call. And THEN he had to go on Meet the Press and talk up Sarah Palin, which… was actually pretty hard to watch, and made me feel pretty sorry for him. He looked like he was barely holding it together. Poor Pawlenty.

Did Not Riot

… over the Republican National Convention, anyway—which, in case you didn’t know, is being held just down the street from me. I know, I know; you were all watching the news, hoping to catch a glimpse of me getting teargassed or hit with truncheons or something. Sorry to disappoint; I thought I disliked the Republican Party enough to run around screaming at cops and getting arrested, but it turns out I much prefer sitting on the couch and scoffing at the more energetic haters out there. Even in my teenage days, I much preferred to make my points through dialogue and debate rather than through childish pranks and violence. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll be able to avoid the teargas, which should be seeping into my apartment fairly soon. (Not kidding, sadly.)

My mother, of course, is very disappointed in my lack of anarchistic energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s out there herself right now, wearing her ’60s peace regalia and slapping Obama stickers on the truncheons. My mom fights the power better than your mom, nyah nyah nyah!

Did Not Get Debriefed By David Duchovny

But not for want of trying, naturally. There are so many jokes I could make about this, but because I still have the X-love in my heart, I am not going to go there. On the other hand, I will never be able to listen to that Bree Sharp song ever again without laughing my ass off, because he will love you, Bree—heck, he’ll even debrief and debug you!

Okay, so I went there. So sue me.

On a more serious note: does this mean Tea Leoni is up for grabs? I call first dibs. I’ve always thought she was more debriefable than he was, anyway.

Did Not Fall Off the Highest Shelf of the Computer Desk

No, that would be my cat, who picks the strangest sleeping spots. And who is now grooming herself with icy dignity, even as I laugh at her.

I… think I might be smelling teargas. Oh dear. Time to go close the windows, methinks…

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