Snapshots from Rio: Sunday

(And by Rio, I mean my television while I sit on my couch on my chubby American behind and contemplate my nails or something.)

(Essie Gel Setter? Not sure it’s worth it.)

 

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Meanwhile, my kids are attempting to do each and every sport. Which is difficult given that we’re in our suburban living room and they lack talent at anything other than being adorable and whining at volumes only discernible to dogs. So basically they’re jumping, falling, running, and then stopping and putting their arms up in the air. It’s actually hilarious.

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Okay. Dude. All these “push to the limit of human possibility” commercials are very insulting to those of us who are sitting here in our leggings blogging and trying to decide whether or not we should go with the rum drink or just gin and tonic and should we do brie and crackers tonight? Or just mug cakes. Guys. The only thing I’m out of this world good at is making mug cakes.

Mug cakes is my event.

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Can we talk for a minute about Simone Biles? And how apparently she was a foster kid on top of being amazeballs at like everything she’s every done? Seriously? Some kids were mean to me when I as four and frankly, I’m still a little upset about it and yes it’s been 24 years and I’m married with two children and they just called me stupid, not abandoned me because of drugs, but you know what? IT HURT AND IT’S PROBABLY WHY I QUIT THE GYMANSTICS TEAM.

*woe*

See, I was a gymnast. I was good. Well, I mean, not like this. But like pretty good for an nine-year-old in the midwest at a gym that only had a regional team. However, I eventually realized that you were expected to have a modicum of grace (which I don’t) and an exceptional dedication to doing things other than sitting at home by yourself and reading Saddle Club books (also no.) And thus died my Olympic dreams.

So this? This cuts deep, you guys.

I’m going to have to go with the gin. I’m not fooling around tonight.

That’s just the kind of commitment to excellence I bring to all my…ahem…sports.

Like mug cake making.

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Okay. I can’t do literally anything else this lady is doing. But I could help her blend out her eyeliner. Call me, Simone.

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WHAT IS WITH THESE LADIES GIVING BIRTH AND THEN PLAYING BEACH/WATER SPORTS???? Looking better than I have ever looked in my entire life and certainly better than I looked FIFTEEN (hell, 36) MONTHS AFTER GIVING BIRTH TO A CHILD FROM MY OWN VAGINAL CANAL.

IT IS ANNOYING AND I HATE THEM.

END RANT.

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I went with a lovely tropical rum drink, in case anyone was super interested in that.

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Okay, these little backwards races? I could not do.

(Stop laughing. Yes, I know I couldn’t do literally anything else in these Olympics.)

(Also yes that is cake on the table in the foreground.)

(Go USA.)

But the starting backwards? Would be very difficult. I think I would throw my back out or something. And just like perching there? Ugh. So many muscles you have to use.

Nope.

Not worth it.

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That Olympic official lady on the right is UNABASHEDLY ogling the entire US relay team. And she is my new hero. It’s like Twitter sent a reporter to the games and they infiltrated the pool.

I’m dying. This is hilarious.

That lady deserves a medal.

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