With the first weekend behind us the Olympics are now in full swing in Rio and while I haven’t watched a single event I’ve spent the last couple of days thinking a lot about them. As I tend to do in some aspects of my life I distort reality into believing that something that is very unlikely and probably impossible is an actual realistic goal I could achieve just to make my daydreams more interesting. In my head air rifle and table tennis seem like two events that if I worked hard at for a short period of time I would have no problem qualifying for the olympics and probably come home with a gold medal. That is a completely ridiculous notion that I’m sure a lot of people have had over the weekend while watching the games no matter how fleeting that thought is. I know that I will never compete in the Olympics and that I would stand no chance at any of these events against the world class athletes competing but there are certain things that if they were added to the games I would because of certain talents probably win gold against anybody.
The first event that could catapult me to international stardom would be “Most Times Re-using a Disposable Razor.” While that may sound disgusting or ineffective I do it out of necessity more than anything. Razors to me are one of the easiest things to forget to buy at the grocery store because I just don’t use them that often. I shave sporadically and because I don’t want to be stuck in a situation where my facial hair is out of control and I need to shave only to realize that I’d used the last of my razors last week so in order to decrease the chances of that happening I stretch out the use of each one much longer than they were originally intended to last. Don’t judge me but rather start doing it yourself so that when this is finally added to the olympics you might have a slim chance of competing with me.
If “Punctuality” were an olympic sport I would without a doubt place in the top three and more than likely win. At my last job where I worked almost two and a half years I was ONE minute late ONE time and that was on a day where my wife drove me to work. I’m not blaming anyone; I’m only stating the facts. I’m so punctual that I even get up on time every morning and a lot of times earlier than I need or want to. When my alarm goes off there is no snooze for me, no five more minutes. When my alarm goes off I get up. It bugs me when people are late especially when they are supposed to be meeting someone. For the most part you can control whether you arrive somewhere on time or not and barring unforeseen traffic or an emergency of some point being late and keeping someone waiting is one of the most rude things that you can do. Tardiness is screaming at the person stuck waiting that their time is not only not valuable to you but you don’t even consider it, you self involved ignoramus. Because I feel so strongly I always plan to leave earlier than I need to just in case something arrises that might try and make me late. Yesterday, there was a car accident on the interstate and I literally had my car in park for half an hour. “There’s no way he could have made it to work on time” you may be thinking. Think again; I clocked in five minutes early. That is why nobody would stand a chance against me in “Punctuality.”
Lastly, if there were an event in the Olympics called “Most Afraid” I would absolutely become the most decorated Olympian in world history and that’s not exaggerating even a little bit. I am absolutely terrified of so many things I would probably be considered crazy if I weren’t too afraid to seek the opinions of a mental health professional. One of my biggest fears is of balloons. You know those fun decorations hanging everywhere at your two year old nephew’s birthday party? Terrified. While working my last job I occasionally had to blow up balloons and I had little girls laughing at me because I would start sweating profusely and lean away from the inflating balloon for fear that it might pop. Whenever I was told to throw away inflated balloons at work I couldn’t do the proper thing and put them in the garbage compactor. I was afraid that through the closed metal door I might here them pop which I avoided at all costs so I would go outside and release them into the sky to fly away, un-popped which may or may not be illegal. I’m not really sure, nor do I care. I am also deathly scared of heights which means I’m not that big on rollercoasters or amusement parks. I know, I’m a freak. When I was much younger my dad took me to St. Louis for a few days in the summer to go to a baseball game and do some other things in the city. One of those things he thought I would enjoy was Six Flags which to be fair most kids would love and possibly nag their parents for weeks to take them. It was one of the hottest summers I can ever remember so it probably wasn’t the best time to spend the day outside but a little sun wasn’t going to deter us from all of the amusement park fun. I remember my dad really wanted to ride a big wooden rollercoaster and I agreed to it for some reason. I was really young so it wasn’t like he could just leave me and go on the ride alone so it was either me go with him or him missing out on the ride altogether. We stood in line for over an hour and my fear and dread grew the closer we got to the front of the line. When we reached the front we may have been soaked in sweat and sunburned but it was all about to pay off with the ride of a lifetime. My feet wouldn’t move. I just couldn’t do it so we had to make the embarrassing walk of shame back past all of the normal people who were looking forward to the ride. I have plenty more examples displaying my fears and giving concrete evidence that I would easily win “Most Afraid” but this is a blog not a novel so I’ll stop here with two examples.
I don’t know anyone on the Olympic committee or the process of getting these suggestions into their hands but I urge you to try as hard as humanly possible to figure it out so that one day you can be sitting around the TV with your grandkids watching the Olympics and with great pride point at me as I lay passed out next to a pile of popped balloons and say “I know that guy.”