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Swim Meets

October 10, 2010

If you don’t know, swim meets aren’t exactly the thing that makes you frolic through meadows tossing daffodils and daisies and other assorted flowers around.  However, interesting things tend to happen.

Here’s some suspenseful music.  Why? Just because.  And to make you wonder exactly what was so interesting at the swim meet.

Did that give you goosebumps? Not really? What? Crap.

Anyways, this swim meet, for some reason, was one session long.  Which means it started in the morning, and ended in the morn – oh, wait, no.  It ended at 1:30.

I feel like I’ve told you this before, but I’m not a morning person.  Which means waking up at the buttcrack of dawn to race my ass off is not really my thing.

Just like typing an essay is not really a monkey's thing.

But guess what I did? I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn to race my ass off.

I put down my chair in an inconspicuous spot, hoping that no one would see me and punch me and steal my iPod and the pitifully small amount of money I had brought to buy food.  And then I left to go warm up and stuff.

When I came back, lo and behold, a girl put her chair right next to mine! Well, that’s not really that weird, you’re probably thinking.  After all, Mr. X. is so devilishly handsome that he probably attracts chicks like flies to honey.  Suspicious of her unnaturally large (and probably botox-enhanced) smile, I quickly checked backpack to see if my money and iPod were still there.  Because no one should be smiling in the freaking morning.  Unfortunately for this extremely exciting plotline (insert more suspenseful music), and fortunately for me, they were still there.

Still suspicious, I hid my money in one of my socks and stuck it in my backpack.  I then put my iPod in the legs of my jeans (remember, I’m wearing nothing but a Speedo and a parka, so I wouldn’t be wearing those).  And walked away to… walk.  Because there’s not much to do at a swim meet.  Besides swim.  And play pranks.

I would've done this, but I didn't have any bananas.

So I do a lap around the pool, and I come back to my chair.  And, lo and behold, there were two smiling girls! If they looked identical, I probably would have assumed one did some mitosis or something, but they looked different.  So one probably did mitosis and then the other got treated with radiation, and ended up looking different.

Frowning with suspicion, I looked through my stuff to make sure my iPod and money were still there.  They still were.  One girl giggled.  I frowned again.  I then left to do another lap walking around the pool.

When I came back, there were not two girls, not three, but four smiling girls. They were definitely going through exponential growth or something.  I glanced at my backpack and made sure it looked exactly the same as when I had left.  Now, they were in some weird half-circle.  You know, like a circle around a campfire, except only half of that? Oh, and I seemed to be the campfire.

I dragged my chair a little to the side, so I wouldn’t be in the exact center.  The girls giggled with each other.  I sat down.  They giggled harder.  I closed my eyes and went to my happy place, and when I opened them, there were eight freaking girls sitting around me.  They were all giggling and whispering to each other, and I was feeling kind of weird.

So I moved my chair outside of their half-circle.

Sorry, nothing happened.

After my encounter with the rabid laughing prepubescent girls, I went for another lap around the pool, flaunting my four-pack of flab.  Unfortunately, this did not attract any girls I could ask out without being arrested for sexual harassment.

Not pictured: Patrick's abs.

Unfortunately.

I’d tell you about my events and how I did, but that’s kind of boring.

BUT, the warm up before one of my events was not boring.  In fact, it was kind of awkward.

I was just happily swimming backstroke when some little girl (too many girls in this post) decided to switch lanes and swam right across me, right on top of me.  And grabbed my junk in the process.

Note to guys: Don’t wear Speedo Endurance suits to meets if you’re gonna be doing laps around the pool.  Why? Because Speed Endurance suits aren’t made for the “holy-shit-this-thing-is-so-soft-and-awesome-feeling” emotion, but are made for the “holy-shit-this-thing-is-really-rough-feeling-but-lasts-years” emotion.

Which means?

Which means that after a couple of laps around the pool, the damn thing started chafing my inner thighs.  And I got a lovely mark that looked like I recently gained, then lost, then gained, and then lost 150 pounds.

There’s not much else to say about my meet, so I’ll move on to something that will break your heart.

Once the guy is done explaining what’s going on, skip right ahead to 1:00 and prepare to have your heart broken.

That’s the saddest looking dog I have ever seen in my life.

Have fun sleeping.

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