“Alcohol makes other people less tedious, and food less bland, and can help provide what the Greeks called entheos, or the slight buzz of inspiration when reading or writing.”
After nursing a headache all day and reading some of my Facebook posts the next morning, I have come to the conclusion that wine and the Olympic games should probably stay a good deal away from each other. I mentioned this the other day to a friend of mine, to which she replied: “That’s the only way I watch them.”
Ok, I get it. You come home at the end of the day, want to relax, throw on the Olympics because it fills the void of your favorite show . . .what’s a little wine? And likely, you’ll do just fine. Nice time.
Unless you are me. And it’s not just a little wine.
So, here are the reasons one might reconsider drinking wine and watching the Olympics:
Your FB page the next morning makes no sense
I have NO idea what this means, although if I had to guess, he’s a swimmer who won? Vaguely remember my husband coming out of our bedroom because he was awakened by my cheering, “USA!”. I remember also saying (slurring), “Wait! You’ve got to see this!” And attempting to rewind the DVR, only to turn around and find he had already gone back to bed.
Status: I love shoulder sweat. So HAWT!
Yes, yes it is. It is indeed, “hawt,” but I’m thinking . . .a 40-year-old English major could probably do without, um, use of the word. “Hot”does just fine.
You develop crushes on entirely the wrong people
Status: WTH? I’m in love with Ryan Lochte. It’s the grey hair, ain’t it?
No, it ain’t. It’s the wine goggles again. My friend kindly reminded me that Ryan Lochte was the Ryan Lochte of douchebag fame from the show: Being Ryan Lochte.
Ugh. At least I stayed age appropriate with the whole grey hair thing, but I still feel dirty.
You’ll feel Herculean
Oh yes! Go, USA! Look at those amazing athletes who train their whole lives for the opportunity to compete for their country!
Look at their bodies! Oh, look! A warm up? I can roll my shoulders, too! Push-ups? No problem, how many?
A handstand? Oh, sure, let me just . . .move this chair, and . . .wait . . .
OK, so . . . no. Nothing was broken the next morning. But I was sore in strange places, and two days later I don’t think my neck has quite readjusted back to its normal alignment.
You’ll go broke
Between all of the red, white, and blue athletic gear on Amazon and the cupping appointments booked at the local day spa? We won’t even get into the adult gymnastics classes that I found in my search engine’s history.
You’ll gain 5 lbs
After it sinks in that there’s no way that will ever be you, and the children’s leftover donuts are calling from the fridge.
No, wait. you’re carb-loading for the incredible new you that emerges tomorrow, when you strive to push yourself to the limits because that’s what Michael Phelps does.
There you go. It could happen to you. Or maybe it’s just me.
Anyways, I think I’ll stick to tequila.