So I'm watching the London Olympics opening ceremony, and I'm NOT wearing any of my tiny British T-shirts that are too small. And I completely don't get it at all. Why are there drumming Pilgrims? Maybe all that too tight clothing has collectively cut of the flow of oxygen to their brains so they put together this weird show with Redcoats marching with Sgt. Pepper wannabes. And I hear they have pumped the stadium full of sulfur just so you can feel like you're there in a steel mill.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't most people who work in steel mills want to get out and that is why they make their children play football and go to college? So why then, would people who have paid $800 for tickets to this event want to feel and smell like they were in a steel mill? There was a steel mill we used to drive by when I was little and we would hold our noses and it was NOT a nice smell at all. And the air around it was brown and when you would blow your nose it would be black and the steel people said that wasn't because of the mill but when it shut down, I never blew my nose once and had it come out black and there was no longer a smell. So I'm thinking this is not a nice idea for those poor people who spent their life savings getting a ticket to the Olympics and now they smell funny.
See, it's the British. They know that many of the ticket holding people are Americans and they are out to get us. Here is proof.
Yes. You read that correctly. A FAT American family. See! I knew I was right about the T-shirt conspiracy! But just wait until we win all their medals. Then we'll see who is fat and who is awesome. They'll probably make all the medal ribbons too tight so our athletes will gag during the national anthem, but we won't care because we'll have all the medals.
OK. I should probably mention that there are a couple of things that I like about Britain. Because it can't be all bad, can it? I mean apart from the T-shirt conspiracy. But James Bond was one of the best inventions ever. Ever. Also Jane Austen and salt and vinegar potato chips. And there is one British designer I know who doesn't hate American women and I buy from him all the time and I'm not going to tell you who he is because then you will buy from him, too and we will have the same clothing but 1/2 of my wardrobe is from him, so there. I don't hate everything that is British. Just mostly their stupid Olympic T-shirts.
And why are the opening ceremonies so looooong? And don't you really wish the founding fathers had thought about things like alphabetical order a little bit more and named us the American United States so I could go to bed a little earlier? See, they needed a woman at that convention because we would have thought of things like that. Also, that not everybody looks good in red, white, and blue. And stripes are NOT flattering, not even on Olympic athletes.
Speaking of countries in the As, this man in Australia is having a worse day than me. Obviously he did not see The Unsinkable Molly Brown or he would have known that an oven is a very bad place to hide money. So thank you, Mr. Australian, for reminding me to be grateful that my paycheck is direct deposited so that my money will never look like this:
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't most people who work in steel mills want to get out and that is why they make their children play football and go to college? So why then, would people who have paid $800 for tickets to this event want to feel and smell like they were in a steel mill? There was a steel mill we used to drive by when I was little and we would hold our noses and it was NOT a nice smell at all. And the air around it was brown and when you would blow your nose it would be black and the steel people said that wasn't because of the mill but when it shut down, I never blew my nose once and had it come out black and there was no longer a smell. So I'm thinking this is not a nice idea for those poor people who spent their life savings getting a ticket to the Olympics and now they smell funny.
See, it's the British. They know that many of the ticket holding people are Americans and they are out to get us. Here is proof.
Yes. You read that correctly. A FAT American family. See! I knew I was right about the T-shirt conspiracy! But just wait until we win all their medals. Then we'll see who is fat and who is awesome. They'll probably make all the medal ribbons too tight so our athletes will gag during the national anthem, but we won't care because we'll have all the medals.
OK. I should probably mention that there are a couple of things that I like about Britain. Because it can't be all bad, can it? I mean apart from the T-shirt conspiracy. But James Bond was one of the best inventions ever. Ever. Also Jane Austen and salt and vinegar potato chips. And there is one British designer I know who doesn't hate American women and I buy from him all the time and I'm not going to tell you who he is because then you will buy from him, too and we will have the same clothing but 1/2 of my wardrobe is from him, so there. I don't hate everything that is British. Just mostly their stupid Olympic T-shirts.
And why are the opening ceremonies so looooong? And don't you really wish the founding fathers had thought about things like alphabetical order a little bit more and named us the American United States so I could go to bed a little earlier? See, they needed a woman at that convention because we would have thought of things like that. Also, that not everybody looks good in red, white, and blue. And stripes are NOT flattering, not even on Olympic athletes.
Speaking of countries in the As, this man in Australia is having a worse day than me. Obviously he did not see The Unsinkable Molly Brown or he would have known that an oven is a very bad place to hide money. So thank you, Mr. Australian, for reminding me to be grateful that my paycheck is direct deposited so that my money will never look like this:
I grew up in a place that had a steel mill in a different state directly across the river from my hometown. I always relished the smell. The wafting fetid air made a complete sensory experience, one that I covet during my intinerant homecomings. It gives me a true sense of my place in the world. When I am away from home, I usually try to recreate the experience by gorging myself silly on pesto-laden dishes.
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