A Nice Hard Slap – Olympic Eating Habits.
Michael
Phelps eats 600 steaks, 350 eggs, 200 onions, 18 pounds of crayfish, 5
live hot dogs, 3 Fun Dips, and a Funyun a day and still manages to be
svelte and fierce and able to make exaggerated faces when his swimming
friends win awards. He is an American Hero to be sure, but his diet is
hardly the kind of thing that has any relevance to you.
As
an aside, authorities found a chair, a missing Korean photojournalist,
an Amity license plate, and an actual stool in Phelps’ actual stool
when he flexed fifteen abs and shat out his belly bursts. His ass
muscles wiped themselves so Phelps had his hands free to accept the
Gold Medal for that movement.
The
average Olympic gymnast eats 3 corn flakes, 4 molecules of spaghetti,
and a gram of water a day and still manages to flip in the air and land
famished on the mat before hungrily running to the parallel bars and
starving in circles for a while before sailing back to the mat in a
spiraling, emaciated finale. They are American Heroes to be sure, but
their diet is hardly the kind of thing that has any relevance to you.
As
an aside, one of the girls tried to peel the gold medal but started to
cry when there was no chocolate inside. What, you thought those were
tears of pride?
These
people are not human, despite all of the melodrama the broadcasters try
to instill in the Olympic broadcasts. They are vessels of hollow glory
that fill once every four years. Their needs and wants and favorite
snacks take a back seat to the mission of winning at all costs and
neither diet really should be considered as anything more that trivia
because none of us have a cocksman’s lick of a chance of competing with
these beings on their stage. To try their diet for our purposes only
leads to one place and which we chose will only determine whether we
need fifteen pallbearers or one little tiny one.
Try
eating like Michael Phelps for a month and the only thing you’ll become
is movie film critic. Try eating like one of the gymnasts and the only
thing you’ll be is carried away by an owl and devoured briefly before
the feathery tormentor goes back out for something more substantial.
Like a titmouse.
The
Olympics are pretty dumb already. I know this because I was trying to
work at my local sports bar while being concussed with the trifecta of
excitement known as archery, ping pong, and fencing. It was like
watching people I love butchered by baristas, only not as boner-y.
Eating
is one of the true joys in life. A communal time. A private time. A
time to provide or be provided for. It’s the true center to life and to
abuse it is to invite sadness and unhealth into an already mirthless
universe. Find a balance for God’s sake and don’t let these extremes
haunt you. It’s perfectly cool to have an extra few pounds on your
frame or perhaps a few too few.
These
people are in their glory moment. Think about how downhill most of
these people’s lives are from here. Well, at least professionally. I
mean sure… they’ll become coaches and parents and have endorsement
deals and all that but their bodies are to them malleable commodities
to abuse for the greater good and the training and regimens they go
through should have no bearing on the reality of us somewhat regular
humanoids.
Food’s great. Don’t fuck it in the ass.
–
Nick Nunziata ate his first cheeseburger in a year yesterday. It was… meaty.
Before
I go, here’s the latest thing I’m adding to the blog. Each day I blog I’ll
have a song, a piece of artwork, a photo, a Mary Worth, or something to
further justify your click and to give the trolls a little more ammo. Today, an ART JAM in progress, a monster and his belly contents:
