My Letter of Beef

Well, I suppose before I continue I should clear up some misunderstandings - I love the Olympics.  I'm not a communist.  I support all and every person, who decides to devote themselves to mastering the art of holding onto a tiny sled, while they fly down a tunnel of ice at 70 mph.  I support watching the Olympics, and even pretending to be shocked when I see an event at night, that I already know the outcome to because of the gosh darn internets.  I support it all.

Alright, with that off my chest...can we discuss how come the Russians are killing us on the ice?  Kidding.

No, actually I got to thinking, after a friend of mine passionately responded to my Olympic rant, about what things would get a passionate response out of me.  The following is what I came up:

1. I think I'm going to write a letter to the hit TV show The Bachelor or The Bachelorette informing them that the following has got to stop:  Contestants have got to stop saying, after three minutes of talking, "I really see myself falling for this person and having a future with them."  No, you don't.  You see the chance of holding on for a few more eliminations to either, see more of the world, or to possibly become the next idiot, who after three episodes into the new season, I'm going to hate.  And please stop letting these morons claim they planned the elaborate dates.  A producer rented the helicopter, found the location, hired the locals to dance and made the food.  Not Juan Pablo.  Just be honest.

2. My next letter would be to all people who take credit when they shouldn't.  Case and point: I'm out riding the other day in my Duke biking outfit when some guy pulls up next to me and says, "Ah, a Dukie.  Too bad, I'm from Florida State."  (I'm supposed to care because our schools, to which we haven't attended in almost 15 years, are in the same conference.)  So, I say, "Yep. A Dukie.  That's great you are from Florida State.  We beat you in basketball and you beat us in football - it's a wash."  Put the earphones back in and get ready to move, and then the idiot says, "We don't just win in football, but we are National Champs!"  We?  Really?  Listen, retired college football player Asian man, YOU didn't get recruited.  YOU didn't practice one second.  YOU didn't play or even attend the game.  YOU won nothing.  YOU paid for their scholarships.  YOU attended class so Florida State has a graduation rate that the team can tell future recruits about.  YOU wrote fifteen scathing critiques of games on a Florida State Message Board.  YOU were outside the stadium getting drunk at a tailgate.  That's what YOU did.  

3. Wow, that last one got me a little heated.  Moving on.  My last letter (I've got to end at three because nap time is coming to a close and I can't be a hot mess when the daughter wakes up) would be to the "one uppers."  You know who you are.  And if you don't, let's see if this describes you:  You are the one in a group, who almost wets themselves while you excitedly wait for the speaker to take a breath so you can come crashing in with a story, that totally DESTROYS the other person's story.  You are the one that hears about someone's aunt dying of a skin disease, that ate away their face and then limbs, and then says, "I once broke every bone in my body and was in a coma for ten years while a skin disease healed my bones, restored my energy and then rebuilt my face."  Slow clap one upper - you win.

Ahh...I feel much better now.