SOCCER IS STUPID, and Thank the Good Lord the Olympics are OVER.

Yes, I made this. I rock.

First, I will admit that not ALL Olympics coverage made me want to sit on an active nuclear warhead. Only most of it.

I thought some of the male divers were nice to ogle, and this one Swedish girl’s awesome hair cut was kind of inspiring. And who can argue that watching Gabby D win gold for her insane gymnastics wasn’t the best thing since tampons? And I mean that reference especially for gymnasts because God knows they can’t wear a fucking pad in those tight outfits. And HOW can they ever get away with wearing white, for shit’s sake? Have they not considered being embarrassed by a huge blossoming blood spot in front of the entire freaking world? Can you say “period leakage” in a thousand languages? I want to hear Bob Costas try.

I wonder if gymnasts even have periods. Some of them are kinda skinnyish. Except for that one really tall woman, Catalina Ponor, from Romania, who looks about 35-years-old.  She’s really 24, but I don’t know. Maybe she is one of those nesting dolls, and she has smaller and smaller gymnasts hidden in secret places. The girl who performed right after her once--when I was forced to watch since the Olympics were playing on every fucking television in my house--weighed about 10 pounds and could easily pass for a 4-year-old. She was from China, where they apparently get a couple of rice grains a day for sustenance, and she could easily fit up in that Romanian’s uterus. Speaking of tampons. But I digress.

What I mean to discuss is the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart (Where?!), down in my heart (Where?!), down in my heart now that the Olympics are OVER. I’m thrilled beyond measure that all those “athletes” were able to show their stuff and earn lots of multi-million dollar endorsements and lots of thousands (that better turn out to be tax-free, America) for each medal looped around their necks. I say “athletes” because YOU explain to ME how those bitches who pranced around with fucking Hula-Hoops in the “rhythmic dance” competition can compare to Bolt’s running or Phelps’s swimming or the Williams sisters’ tennis swings?!?

NO. I never said I could hold a candle to a competitor in the rhythmic dance category, but I can’t piss in a twenty-foot arc either, and no one’s clamoring for that to be an Olympic event. Jesus. What’s next? Burger Grilling?

Anyway, the BIGGEST issue I have with the summer Olympics is soccer. Or as I like to call it, why-the-fuck-are-people-watching-these-idiots-run-up-and-down-a-field-for-hours-doing-absolutely-nothing. It's just a big version of a 6-year-old's game of "keep-away." Seriously. I came into the room when my husband was glued to minute 85 of a girls’ soccer game between the US and somefuckingbody, and the score was 0 to 0. What the?

Who watches 85 minutes of people hurrying down to one end of a big field—sometimes kicking a ball, sometimes not—and then, oof, stopping when the ball rolls out of bounds, and then turning around and running down the other way, and then, oof, stopping when the ball doesn’t get anywhere near the goal that takes up practically the ENTIRE fucking end of the field, so that there is ONCE again, no score?!

The whole population of Ethiopia could fit in a soccer goal, but no one can seem to get the human-head-sized ball in there much. No wonder people nearly climax and rip their clothes off when the ball goes in. It’s like a fucking miracle. The Pope should be there blessing that shit. There ought to be long lines of the afflicted waiting behind soccer goals so that when a ball goes in, the lame can walk; the deaf can hear; the mute can speak; liberals can reason. I mean, at least there would be SOMETHING good to come out of a motherfucking soccer match.