We’re yet another week into the Olympics.  I’m still feverishly watching everything I can get my eyes onto.  Here are some more questions, observations, and random bits of hating on the Games.

Does this mean that Debbie Phelps has to get a job now?

Michael Phelps is done swimming.  At the start of these Olympic Games he looked like Jordan in his Wizards jersey.  Burned out, worn down, and keeping things interesting through his sheer talent levels.  By the end?  He looked like Michael F-ing Phelps, Greatest Olympian in the History of the Most Historically Rich Sporting Event Ever.  But, after racking up an astonishing amount of Olympic hardware, Phelps is ready to pack it in.

But I’m not as concerned with what will happen to Phelps.  I think he’ll be fine.  What fascinates me now is what happens to Debbie Phelps?

As Debbie Phelps kept getting more screen time than Tom Hanks in Castaway, kept competing with Justin Bieber for “Most Overexposed Non-Athlete of the Games” and kept vigorously campaigning for her son to drag his tired, pruny-from-excessive-cholorinated-water-exposure, ass to Rio de Janeiro it became clear: Debbie Phelps is Momaging her ass off.  Normally I avoid kitschy, obnoxious mashups of words in an effort not to sound like someone who listens to a lot of LMFAO, but in this case the term is inescapable.  It hovers around Debbie like the swarming mass of paparazzos around her son.  It clings to her like the females in the Olympic Village cling to Ryan Lochte.

Does Debbie know best?  Or is she just Kris Kardashian Jenner with a stopwatch and split times?  At the swim trials in Omaha she signed autographs for fans.  She’s the 5th worst idea Subway has had for marketing their subs during an Olympic year (*Author’s note: who is in charge of Subway’s marketing?  They have a retired, more-known-for-his-shoddy-dental-work-than-anything-else-anymore Michael Strahan, a retired – in Olympic sports, that means: irrelevant —  Apolo Ohno, a didn’t-make-the-team Nastia Liukin, and Robert Griffin the III hurdling towards a delicious avocado sub, even though he quit track after his freshman year at Baylor.  Sweet gameplan, guys.)

She keeps stumping, like a see-through politician, for Phelps to hang around and sully his legacy, and you get the feeling that she’ll be pushing him into the pool, even if she’s doing it with a cane and is seated in a rascal scooter.  What will she do with no coattails to ride?  Will she, **GASP**, have to get a real job?  (*Author’s note: I’m sure she’ll become a Momavational speaker.  I’m sorry.)

The All-Dirty Name Team for the XXX Olympics

Yes, it is a tired observation that this is the XXX Olympics.  Yes, I am aware that the Athlete’s Village ordered a staggering, record number of condoms for this year’s games.  No, I haven’t seen Vin Diesel and, no, I don’t think anyone will get that last joke.  Here’s a few of the leaders for the All-Dirty Name Team thus far:

Liam Tancock, Swimming (Great Britain)
Donald Suxho, Men’s Volleyball (USA)
Destinee Hooker, Women’s Volleyball (USA)
Giedrius Titenis, Swimming (Lithuania) (*Author’s note: his last name looks like the answer to a filthy, filthy riddle)
Coxswain, Rowing (Everyone) (*Author’s note: best gig in sports?  The coxswain.  They get to just chill in the boat and shout.  Plus, they can tell people they’re a coxswain.)

I know you guys have been watching the games, so who else should be on the team?  Help me out, here.  I’m just one man.  (*Author’s note: also, I was terrified to google Tancock, so I put in “Great Britain Swimming Olympics 2012 Tancock” in the hopes that I wouldn’t open Pandora’s box)

Best Dressed

The U.S. Men’s Water Polo squad.  I’m not talking about their star-spangled man-ers or their Red, White, and Junk speedos that would make a Euro trash beachgoer go lunging for a coverup and a sarong.  I’m talking about their fresh-to-death, make Hugh-Hefner-jealous bathrobes.  They’re part boxer, part plush resort item and all badass.  I think the U.S. Men’s Basketball team should definitely hold a shootaround in those.

Most Ill-Advised Goatee

(Tie) Asafa Powell and Felix Sanchez

Asafa once appeared to be the G.O.A.T.  After choking time and again in World Championships and Olympic competitions he may have to change that to just being a goat.  But for now. . .he can revel in the fact that it’s his Goatee that got my attention this Olympics.

Felix Sanchez won big in the 400 Hurdles, proving that he still had enough in the tank to get his second gold medal.  Where he lost?  The facial hair.  It was rather John Waters-esque and took what should have been a touching moment, Sanchez completely overcome with emotion at winning, and instead had me wondering aloud, “So, wait, is Skeletor from the Dominican Republic?”  Can you guess who the gold medalist was in this bunch?

What the F is Shaun White Doing at the Summer Olympics?

Why is Shaun White at the Summer Games?  I even understand NBC using Ryan Seacrest (*Author’s note: kind of) but the awkward, check-out-how-hip-we-are shot in the dark by NBC to choose to bring in a guy whose idea of training is waking and baking, jamming on a hemp beanie, and snowboarding down to the nearest Taco Bell.

Be honest with us, NBC, Shaun White is only there as Michael Phelps’ designated weed man, isn’t he?  It begs the question, how many dime bags can 18 gold medals get?  Wouldn’t you need something to calm your nerves if Debbie Phelps was constantly badgering you about going for Olympics number 5?

The only way it’s okay for Shaun White to be on TV, assailing my 1080p with his napalm-fire hair and Norweigan-coated-in-chalk-dust complexion is if at the end of the games they march White out and ceremoniously depants him and throw his skinny jeans into the Olympic flame.

I’m not sure if you all are getting tired of my Olympicitis posts, but they’re probably going to keep coming.  I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription is. . .more eye-melting hours of Olympics.

FIN

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