Olympic Porn

When planning your viewing of the 2012 Olympics – you have to be wily.  You want to be able to speak with authority about the big picture.  “Did
you catch Branagh at the Opening Ceremonies??  Nice Caliban cover, huh?  How about that Mike Oldfield?”

I will freely admit that my favourite part of the Opening Ceremonies had to be the video segment when Daniel Craig went to Buckingham Palace and they made it look as if the Queen was actually parachuting into the stadium.  Let it not be said that Liz doesn’t have a sense of humour.

The Olympics offers you a veritable feast of weird and wonderful sports that no-one would ever watch apart from once every 4 years.  (Well, really, once every 2 years, now that they’ve staggered the winter and summer Olympics.)  There are so many events out there, that you don’t want to laden yourself with those that are too time-consuming with little punch or pizazz.  You’ve got 36 large events (according to the official site) – with some of those larger categories sub-divided into as many as 48 other events, in say Athletics.  And what do people usually talk about, when it’s all said and done?  The Men’s 100 metre.

I like to plan my viewing based on a very specific athletic criteria: which events show well-toned men in next to no clothing.  My go-to events are swimming and diving.   One might think that men’s beach volleyball would be up there as well, but as I realized yesterday morning, when I tried to watch a game – they make the men wear shirts!  Sure, the women are in what amounts to a sports bra and panties, but the men are in modest shorts and loose tank tops.  Here I was hoping for a flashback to the volleyball scene from Top Gun.  Ladies and gay men, if I can get you to reminisce with me for a moment.  Two words: Rick Rossovich.  I was 18, he was pretty much male perfection.

Rick Rossovich as “Slider” in Top Gun 1986

Plus there’s that double high-five slap thingie that Maverick and Goose share.  THAT is men’s beach volleyball in all its homoerotic glory.  But nope – not at these Olympics! 

“I am totally being gypped!” I complain to David.
“How so?”
“They are wearing shirts!!  What’s the fun in that?  Men can ogle any number of the female beach volleyball players!  And I’m stuck with over-sized tank tops!!”  I snort.
“Do you want me to find you some swimming?” David asks helpfully.
“Yes please.”
My husband is a god among men.

 And then I discover…  Ryan Lochte…   To quote Farmer Hoggett: “That’ll do Pig.   That’ll do.”

See?  Swimmers have muscle but not too MUCH muscle.

The guy looks like a model… wait a second – he actually IS a model.  Fair enough.  I mean, sure, why not share that physique with the world and make money off it?  Plus, I heard him in an interview and he used an adverb!  Correctly.  (sigh)

Okay, I’ll be honest …  That’s not really my criteria for which sports I watch – it’s just that peri-menopause brings out the hormones in a gal and when fast forwarding through the day’s events, I might get sidetracked by the men who look like they have a lot of sperm.

My sports are gymnastics and diving.  I used to do both.  Not particularly well, but I did them.  I could do a back walkover on the beam, handsprings on floor – could do reverse and inward dives.  Today, I had a major “Mother Bear” moment while I was watching an Egyptian gymnast – Sherine El-Zein.  This girl had braces on both wrists, both ankles, one knee bandaged and one thigh bandaged – which begs the question – what the hell was she doing competing at all??  I watched as she stumbled at the end of her first tumbling pass and then as she fell on her second one, probably having torn something underneath one of those many braces or bandages.  She saluted the judges and bowed out of the event.  This poor girl, devastated and in pain, was unable to get off the floor on her own steam and there I am, yelling at the TV:

“Where is her coach?!?  Where the HELL is her coach??” 

If I could have teleported to London and run to her myself – gathering her in my arms, I would have.  This poor kid.  Her Olympic dreams shattered and it was a good 45 seconds before her coach just sort of saunters over to her.  If I ever see this man, I mean EVER – I’m going to punch him in the face and say, “That’s for Sherine you lazy coaching bastard!!”   Sure I might not be as proactive for myself, but put a young woman in harm’s way – WATCH OUT!!