Rambles

FIVE THINGS I COULD BE THE OLYMPIC ATHLETE FOR

Apart from the hugely jarring fact that Bravo is not airing any Real Housewives episodes while the Olympics are airing—like why?? As if they have the same demographics????—this Olympics has been a lot about “the Olympics” and less about “me” so I’d like to pull the focus back onto myself. I’m sure we’ve all seen those Tumblr posts where it’s like “Katie Ledecky at 19 breaks world record, while I’ve got my hand stuck in the Pringles can” or “Gymnast: lands a triple axle flip but lands off-kilter; me (mouth full of Cheetos): bad form.” And that’s so millennial that we’re all feeling the same amount of shame and self-loathing that we, as old teenagers and young twentysomethings, are literally accomplishing nothing while our peers are winning medals and looking so ripped while doing it.

So to make me/us feel better, I’ve created a list of things that I could be the Olympic athlete for:

Side bar: Do we call them “Olympic athletes” or “Olympians”? Or is “Olympians” strictly for Greek deities? Drop me a line.

Five Things I Could Turn Into An Olympic Sport:

1). Folding laundry: I’m, like, really good at it. I have that trifold trick down pat, and I’m actually not bad at folding buttondowns, which—as everyone knows—can be a real drag to fold. I have yet to master the “Grasping the shirt at two seemingly random points and through artful twisting and cotton origami” method of folding clothes, but let’s pretend that that’s the same thing as using performance-enhancing drugs. Yes, it’s technically faster, but morally dubious.

2). Bingeing Netflix: There are very few things I’m better at than watching copious amounts of television. I burned through Scandal, I laughed through Chelsea, I tore through The Office. I’ve recently started rewatching Friends and this is completely unrelated to bingeing, but there are very few things in this world that I am more into than Season 1 Chandler Bing. The hair, the snarkiness, the gay vibe. I LOVE HIM AND WANT HIM TO BE MY HUSBAND.

Side bar: Everything that the people on Friends wore is exactly what everyone I know wears now.

3). Not knowing when I’m being flirted with: Not that this happens a lot, but for someone who is as self-centered and egotistical as me, you would be certain that I would be better at knowing when someone is similarly entranced by me. But, for whatever reason, I’m the last to know when anyone has been flirting with me. If you’re flirting with me (plz flirt w me), can you just, like, email me the night before to let me know to be on the lookout? Thanks. Also can you put something catchy in the subject line, otherwise I won’t even see it. I get a lot of emails.

4). Tongue-popping: What started as an ironic quirk has ingrained itself into my behavior as a nervous tic and a method of echolocation. Whenever I enter a particularly well-acousticed—not a word—area, I tongue-pop to hear the echo. It also acts as excellent verbal punctuation and pizazz. I can tongue-pop really loud, and the only downside to this Olympic skill is dry-mouth.

So that you can also learn this valuable shady skill, I’ve included a YouTube tutorial by the Tongue Pop Queen Herself, Alyssa Edwards. Yawelcomeyawelcome.

5). Cooking peppers and onions: My family reads me to filth for this, because I can only cook, like, four things really well, and one of those is peppers and onions. My friend—whose Wunderkindof pseudonym I can’t remember right now, and I forget which article she was mentioned in so I can’t look it up/I’m too lazy to look it up—can attest that I make bomb peppers and onions. Sometimes I’ll add kale into it too. The secret? Low heat, lots of patience, and balsamic reduction. If I could wed and bed one reduction, it would be a balsamic, hunny. Bombsalmic reduction. So fucking good. So fucking easy.

I’m not really good at that many things—oh I can crack a lot of bones in my body!—so I’m gonna end this list at five so that it doesn’t drag on and get sad.

Get?!” you ask in disbelief.

This article is—at this moment—under 700 words and under 700 words has never felt so long. I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel right now, but I’m too dumb to know anything about politics—usually I’m more well-versed but idk what’s been happening with my brain—and no good juicy pop culture has been happening lately. Celebrities, give me your drama! I’m out of a job until you do!

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