The Sochi Winter games are OVER…Boo!

It’s always a little sad when the Olympics are over. Those 2 weeks they’re on is like having your favourite show on, 24/7. No matter when you get home, what time you wake up, if you can’t sleep…it don’t matta! Even if you don’t like tobogganing, or is it luge? Wait, skeleton…er…bobsledding? Whatever they call it, you still watch. Just on the off chance that someone splits their skin tight suit open. Oh my, did you see it? People thought it happened at Sochi but it was actually the World Championships in Switzerland, 2010. British bobsleigh rider, Gillian Cooke, was stretching before she pushed off and split her pants, in the rear, wide open. Like, not a small split, but her full buttocks were there for the world to see. I was going to put a youtube link but thought against it. Your first inclination is to laugh (come on, how can you not?), but then the embarrassment, for her, settles in. Oh my god, if that was me, I would die. But I haven’t been working out every day, for more than half my life. At least her butt looked good, right? Could have been worse. Could have been me.

The other moments you watch for is all the cute, in shape athletes…geez, they are all mostly cute, right? Why is that? Could it be all that exercise and fresh air just makes the infrastructure of your face fall into place? Or does it go against the law of nature to have such a hard body without a face to match? Who knows. But think of the monkey business going on in that Olympic village where they all stay. They are all so disciplined, but come on, I’m sure they fall off the wagon at some point. Even if they don’t, it’s nice to think they do…having killer parties with their killer bodies…all without inhibition as they probably won’t see these people again (not until another 4 years and by then the monkey business shame will have worn off). A girl can dream.

But my fondest memory of the whole games was skier Hubertus von Hohenloche. First off, he represents Mexico (he was born in Mexico city). With a name like that who would suspect he WASN’T from Mexico? Whatever. Second, they call him Prince. But the outfit. Did you see the OUTFIT? It’s designed to look like a matador outfit (or is that mariachi?)! I call them “outfits”, heh heh. Like my neighbour’s a cop and I call his uniform an “outfit”…makes me chuckle every time. Can you imagine THAT meeting of the minds? Where him and his coaches are sitting around the table, debating the suit…do we put lightning bolts, bold colours, stripes? Cut to “Prince” where he says “No. Matador. Yes, definitely matador”. God love him.  

Andrea