michael phelps is a genius

no, he's not a genius because he won 8 gold medals in bejing. he's a genius because he won 8 gold medals without anyone (at least that i heard) raising questions about use of performance enhancing drugs. i know he's an amazing athlete and all, but what are the odds of winning every single event you enter? like a million to one.

so i know that the majority of the athletes wore new fancy suits this year that supposedly helped them swim faster, but there's just no way the suits alone accounted for so many broken world records. and i especially loved all the stories about phelps specifically that talked about how he had been put on a weight training routine since athens to boost his strength. so they want us to believe he had never lifted weights in his life before he began training for bejing? somehow i find that hard to believe, too.

whoever does his pr deserves a gold medal, that's all i've got to say.

and whoever decided to produce this should be shot.

i miss blogging

maybe that's why i've been in such a bad mood for the last 6 months...i'll try to be better about it.

The Goldschlager Experiment: Day 1

So Nick just had his last drink of Jack with a spash of Coke on the rocks and decided to dip into the mysterious bottle of Goldschlager that appeared in my freezer while I was out of town one weekend. In a word, ew.

Here's the before. Two glasses of ice ready to be drenched in Gold.

Here's the mixer of choice: Diet Coke. Yeah, it was that or Skim Milk.

Ben: "This kinda tastes like Christmas."
Nick: "Yeah, I feel like I'm fucking a pine tree right now."
Nice, boys, nice.

Mimi, Susan and I are sitting here trying to ignore them and doing a lot of eye rolling. Well, Mimi keeps sniffing the drinks and then turning and running the other way in fear. Smart dog.