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Having taken care of some responsibilities this weekend (Mr. P's new tenants, hospital visits visits visits, work catch-up ah hah! database finally fixed!), and having completely fucked off on others (laundry, dishes, replying to LJ comments, gym), I am now flumped out and watching the Olympics. If I was going to get into RPS'ing any of the competitors (not that I *would*, oh heavens no), I'd go for the high-jump guys, Hemingway and Nieto, blond and black, lovely men, doing their manly chest-banging high-five after clearing the latest height. High jump is a wonderfully goofy event, with the backward flomp-and-kick, but track&field bodies are my preferred type, all long lean greyhound ectomorphic muscle. (And that Hemingway guy? Seriously hot.)
Most Terrifying Olympic Event: no question, the high platform diving. I can't imagine even being up on that high high platform, let alone--dude--going up to the edge, turning around, doing a handstand, and then toppling off into the watery abyss. When I was forced into swimming lessons, so many years ago, I absolutely refused to learn to dive, even from the edge of the pool. Because obviously, the only rational way to go into the water is feet-first; diving is such a chancy reckless suicidal extravagant leap of trust. (And I am still scarred, perhaps, by memories of Greg Louganis bashing his skull against the edge of the platform, or board, or whatever it was, all those years ago. Yeeeeoouchhh.)
I should, perhaps, go get some sleep, since laundry and dishes are no way going to get done tonight, and I should be at work tomorrow by seven or so.
Most Terrifying Olympic Event: no question, the high platform diving. I can't imagine even being up on that high high platform, let alone--dude--going up to the edge, turning around, doing a handstand, and then toppling off into the watery abyss. When I was forced into swimming lessons, so many years ago, I absolutely refused to learn to dive, even from the edge of the pool. Because obviously, the only rational way to go into the water is feet-first; diving is such a chancy reckless suicidal extravagant leap of trust. (And I am still scarred, perhaps, by memories of Greg Louganis bashing his skull against the edge of the platform, or board, or whatever it was, all those years ago. Yeeeeoouchhh.)
I should, perhaps, go get some sleep, since laundry and dishes are no way going to get done tonight, and I should be at work tomorrow by seven or so.
We only watch Olympics for the slash...
Date: 2004-08-22 06:33 pm (UTC)For me, it was Lenny Krayzelberg (sp?) and Aaron Piersol of the men's swimming comp. Good friends, good competitors, lots of hugging with wet skin and hip-skimming suits. ::happy sigh::
Mr. Bone watched them hug, turned to me, and said "Ping!" Yup, the slashdar went off. :)
Re: We only watch Olympics for the slash...
Date: 2004-08-22 06:46 pm (UTC)And I am very glad to know that the Corruption of Mr. Bone continues apace. *g* Give him my best, and give the Apple a hug from me.
Re: We only watch Olympics for the slash...
Date: 2004-08-22 10:57 pm (UTC)...er, aka Aaron Peirsol and Lenny. Where they're embracing in the water and they turn to the camera looking very much like, "What? Oh, no, this is totally innocent embracing. Pay no attention to the fact that there is like, one inch of space between us."
oh, yes. They were much with the happy.
And here we can see that 13 years of competitive swimming can warp a girl's tastes.
*mwah* psst, I wrote you uh, like three paragraphs of Gunn, Ray, and Fraser.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-22 11:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-23 12:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-23 06:52 am (UTC)We've mostly been watching the women, and it's a toss-up which bodies we're liking best. Water polo's on? Hubba hubba, those polo babes. Shotput women... rawr! And so on.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-23 10:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-24 04:34 pm (UTC)just a drive-by, to give the details of
see my latest post for all the details