Sunday, August 29, 2004

The Meta-Olympics.

We watched the olympics last night. We sat around, sucking on wine, and played "Fashion Police," "Lame Quote Stenographer," "Name that Muscle," "Men Emoting," and "Cracker Watcher." We demonstrated our fashion superiority, our deep and passionate anatomy knowledge and our general cosmopolitan j'ne sais qua. The M*ster invented the "Lame Quote" game, and the fruits of that labor spangle the cupboard doors. The "it" person has a pen and a stack of post-its and listens carefully to the commentary for the most retarded statments. They are legion, of course, so the real finesse comes when the "it" person can filter through all the verbal wreckage (and all of the suggestions from the other players) for the real gems. The "Fashion Police" really tested their mettle at the opening of the games, when all the athletes paraded by in their native uniforms. Since the games have started, its generally limited to comments like, "that is skanky" and "her eye-make-up sucks" (regarding the interview Bob Costas had with that grecian lady who organized the 'games). I am the only one who takes "Name that Muscle" seriously... it took me all evening to remember "external oblique" (it looks like a love handle on the swimmers, but it really isn't fat). Anybody can play "Cracker"-- whenever that white runner comes on (you know, the one who looks like a pimp and wins all the races) the players yell "cracker!" "Men Emoting" is one of my favorites. When the winning athletes stand on the podium, you watch carefully for signs of "emotion" such as a quivering lip, tears threatening to splash over lower lids, twitching nose... etc.

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I blog about life and soup, but mostly soup.