For some, this year's Olympics were a proud world event, showcasing a new wave of inspiring stories and marvelous feats of strength. For others, it was a bunch of cool shit to look at stoned. From the opening ceremonies, to synchronized swimming, the 2008 Olympiad offered a wide array of mesmerizing imagery to zone out to. I mean who wouldn't want to get baked to an easy to follow narrative that includes flips and firework sky footsteps? ""Whoa, the human body is, like, 'amazing.'"" But that was then, and now the Olympics are gone, stoner. Some of us were so smitten with Olympic Fever (good name for a kind of weed) that we are going through withdrawals. It changed us. Being high just isn't as fun anymore without the Olympics. Your distorted, weed-induced reality seems a little grayer, in the absence of global sports. No need to fret, fellow fryer, I've discovered a few sources to get your fix on athleticism. Like your local YMCA. The one in my neighborhood has a giant sidewalk window wall, and you can easily stare into the pool area from outside.
Who knows, you may be watching the next Michael Phelps (not likely). Understand that you are essentially watching strangers, and while not necessarily illegal, is viewed with suspicion. Local high school track meets offer comfortable bleachers, and a guaranteed day in the sun. I recommend inner-city track meets, as they are innately more inspiring (note: if you do the last one a lot, make sure you occasionally cheer for a fictional son or brother of yours so parents don’t think you’re a pedophile). On that note, a lot of these places will question your presence, so rehearse a good back-story. I like to use a cheerful German accent ""Ufte very amazing runners, then yes?"" Raising your arms and shouting ""Michael Phelps!"" inexplicably also has a high success rate. Everyone can get behind that Phelps kid. If spectatorship isn’t enough, then get yourself involved like I did this past weekend, by covering a Frisbee in cement, and throwing it in the playground of a nearby elementary school like a discus.
On that note, my apologies go out to a nearby elementary school, for breaking your Kindergarten classroom window with a cement-covered frisbee. I am sorry, but I cannot afford to pay for the damages.
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