Below is a list of things that have been said quite a bit around the house this past week.
“Shut up, my boyfriend Michael Phelps is on.”
“But you said he was ugly.”
“Yes, but the lower those swim trunks go and the more gold he’s got, the better he looks.”
“Shallow.”
“Quite.”
“Could you swim more and get a body like that?”
“I’d have to quit my job and swim all the time.”
“So?”
“Then you’d have to get a job.”
“Oh. Never mind, then.”
“Oh, look! The stadium!”
“I hear they call it the Bird’s Nest.”
“Yes, and did you know it’s become a symbol of national pride?”
“For the Chinese? Really? Hm. You’d think they would have mentioned it.”
“More than six million times, anyway.”
“Shut up, my other boyfriend Aaron Piersol is on.”
“Those beach volleyball uniforms aren’t revealing enough.”
“The swimmers are wearing far too much fabric. Bring back the teeny Speedo, I say!”
“Shut up, Mark Spitz.”
“She’s gonna crash.”
“No, she’ll be… ooops. You were right.”
“That looked painful.”
“How come the men’s floor exercise doesn’t have music?”
“Maybe they figured gymnastics is gay enough?”
“Trampoline? Seriously?”
“Ooh, badminton!”
“I could totally do that.”
“No way.”
“Why not? How hard is that?”
“Shut up, my boyfriend Michael Phelps is on again.”