Olympic Disaster

Well, I let everyone down on Thursday by not doing an entry. Apologies. That afternoon, we had a party for work at Dave and Buster's, and the day degenerated into insanity after that. Had I been allowed near a computer, the end result would've been something that would get me sued/disowned/having my citizenship revoked. Not only that, but I had to save my energy for this crappy video game at D&B's where you tried to stack chips in piles. It is my theory that this game is here solely for the benefit of senior citizens and mentally retarded individuals who happen to find themselves abandoned at Dave and Buster's. Whatever the case, the joke was on them as I only had to spend a mere $40 on the game in order to win enough tickets to buy a plastic zebra head toy thing.

When I initially selected the Official Olympian of Goulash, I had high hopes of elevating myself to a Don King-like position in the world of international sports. If I managed to select the right athlete, perhaps I could look forward to a lifetime of bribery, corruption, and velvet tuxedos as a kingpin of Olympic athletics. Water polo teams would be disbanded and pommel horses repainted based upon my whims, if I could just get off to a good start here with my first Olympic endorsement. Today was the big day for Asafa Powell, our chosen one in the 100M, and with the eyes of Goulash upon him, Asafa finished 5th out of 8 runners. I should note that even though he didn't win, he did move much faster than I am capable of, even if I were shot out of a cannon, chased by killer bees. Nevertheless, I am disappointed.

Asafa, was it me? Was the pressure of being the Official Olympian of Goulash too much pressure? When I sent you that gallon of buttermilk before the race as a good luck gesture, I did not intend for you to drink it all before the start. If your loss today really was my fault, then I want to set it right. I cordially invite you to Austin, Texas for a race to determine the world's fastest man. I'll invite the winners of your race today, and set the whole thing up at the elementary school down the street from me. There will be cones set up for the lanes, a string for the finish line, and everything. I'll either pay half the bus fare for everyone, or get my mom to pick you guys up at your houses. Should the other competitors fail to meet my challenge, you get to race Frito, who ran track in high school.

Asafa, reclaim your honor! My email box is waiting for your response.