Rant or Rave?: Olympic Fever

As many of you have learned, I'm not an athletic person. (I ran a mile once, in eighth grade gym class. I'm not sharing how long it took me, but I swore never again). But in this Olympic season, there's an athletic buzz in the air. I can feel it; I walk past the gym and I see people running frantically on the treadmill like there's a black quilted Chanel purse on the other side. I can sense that more people are taking the stairs. Yesterday evening, as I sat in Starbucks drinking my (skinny!) vanilla latte and nibbling at my butter croissant, several people jogged by. (And this is at 6pm, mind you, and the light was quickly fading). I call this phenomenon Olympic Fever.

My theory is that in this time of the year, with everyone all hyped up about the Olympics, normal people feel guilty. Joe Schmoes want to, if not emulate the Olympians, at least understand them; understand why people would want to spend thousands upon thousands of hours stuck inside a bobsled, risking life, limb, and sanity for a pretty medal and bragging rights. (If you haven't gathered from the tone in this post, I've managed to hold strong against Olympic Fever). Thus, Joe Schmoes watch the Olympics, and feel guilty about their own inadequacies. They make resolutions; they go to the gym; they plaster their refrigerators with pictures of Lindsey Vonn. This can last up until a few weeks, when spring break rolls around, Michael Phelps whips out the bong, Walmart has a sale on Twinkies, the local bar has a St. Patty's Day All-You-Can-Drink-for-$5 special, and all is back to normal.

I have mixed feelings about this. At one level, I suppose it's nice that people want to be healthy and work out and such. Bully for them and all. At another level, athletic, healthy people are so smug. And even if they're not trying to, they always make me feel bad about myself. (Not guilty per se, but inferior). At a third level, I enjoy some of the Olympic events. Skating, for example. I like the costumes. And the music. It's fun, for a half hour or so. At a fourth level, some of the other sports are just boring; hockey, for example (shout out to CASEY, if you read this -- yes, I did just go there). And at a fifth level, some of these sports are just for crazy people. I mean, for God's sake, Shaun White's mother must be a nervous wreck. So my feelings are mixed.

What about you guys? What do you think of the Olympics? Take it up in the comments.

Interlude: Banner Time

As ya'll may have noticed (I sincerely hope you did; otherwise, I doubt you'll be getting far in life -- no offense, of course), I now have a banner. At least, that's what I think it's called. It's the big picture of the jellybeans with "Insipid Rants on Insipid Things" written in fun lettering on the top of the home page of my blog.

My bestest friend Clare did it for me. (Sorry about the usage of the word 'bestest', you guys, but I'm so delirious with delight -- and so impressed with my bestie [same deal applies here] Clare -- that I just can't help myself. We all have our moments of regression back to fifth-grade recess and hissed gossip about who was allowed to watch R-rated movies. Anyway.) Gold star for Clare:  ☆. (Fine. So I just learned how to do that, and am showing off. So sue me.)

On a different note, IRIT now has reached 26 fans, and that makes me ☺ (smile). You guys are all awesome, gorgeous, witty, and have impeccable taste. 

Lastly, to whom I believe to be my first real Internet blog-reader whom I don't know in person: Crumpet the Elf. (If I do know you, I'm very very sorry!) I literally shrieked when I saw your name pop up. Quite clever.

And with that, I say ✌ (peace). I ♡ (love) you. Be good, and remember to always carry an ☂ (umbrella).

Rant #24: Valentine's Day Misdemeanors

Today is a day of love. Today is a a day of chocolate, flowers, cheesy cards, general camaraderie, and, above all, bad music. 

Valentine's Day is one of my favorite holidays, for all aforementioned reasons. And yet, there are people out there who are just ruining it for me. Downers, you could say. Naysayers. Malcontents. What you will, these people are the ones who are stomping around today, arms crossed, glaring at happy people, occasionally muttering under their breath "damn commercialized day of unprotected lust". I want these people to stop.

Is Valentine's Day commercialized? Of course. Should happy couples lavish affection upon one another every day, and not just on February 14th? Duh. Is a tacky pink bear clutching a lumpy heart declaring "I Luv U" proof of undying love? I sincerely hope not. But under the tackiness, and under the sickly sweet vanilla candles, Valentine's Day is a sweet sentiment. 

Men: nobody's out there demanding that her boyfriend get her a diamond necklace today (well, she might, but in that case, dump her. Please, please dump her). We're not expecting you to spend a lot of money. It's really not as much pressure as you'd think. And women: it doesn't matter if you're single. Stop whining about being alone today of all days. I see you in Starbucks, dabbing at your eyes and tearing into that chocolate cupcake. I see that romance novel you're reading (by the way, what is that on the cover? does that woman really think that that constitutes a shirt?). You look ridiculous in those black sweatpants and that ugly brown sweater thing. And please, stop glaring at me. For God's sake, I don't even have a date. I'm justi innocently sitting in Starbucks reading Graham Greene and sipping my skinny vanilla latte. Just because I'm wearing a red shirt and pink heart earrings doesn't mean I'm about to come over to you and start talking about my boyfriend, Brad, and the rose petals I've strewn across our bed in (giggle) preparation.

On the opposite end of the spectrum from the downers are the gigglers. Oh, God, the gigglers. The Brads who do spread rose petals across the bed in preparation. Here. Let me give you a list of what exactly the gigglers do.

Emma's List of the Most Annoying Things Couples Do on Valentine's Day, in No Particular Order:

• PDA. PDA is never okay. It's disgusting, and rude, and awkward, and gross. Teeny-boppers, pressed up against one another in the corner of the movie theater (by the way, guys, Valentine's Day was the best movie ever. I cried. I highly recommend it. But I digress): you're, what, thirteen? Fourteen? You shouldn't be doing... that, let alone in public. It's not sexy or mature. It makes me gag.
• Stuffed bears. What in the world are you supposed to do with a dang stuffed bear? Put it on your mantel and admire a $5 red bear from CVS? Chat with it about your innermost feelings and angst? If you decide that you have to go the stuffed animal route (and I really, really advise against it) at least go for a hippo, or a dodo, or something cool.
• Bad cards. I'm all for cheesy, but to a degree. Schmaltz is one of those things you just have to go for; like blogging, you have to go big or go home. Lacy-looking cards that say "My shoulder to cry on, my constant support: I love you for being there for me" are gross. I want giant hot pink hearts, and I want an ode, and I want the phrase "my passion for you burns with the red hot intensity of a thousand suns" (source: Fairly Odd Parents). Handmade cards are the best, and original odes are the best. Don't worry. I won't judge if you can't find a good rhyme for "thousand suns". If "astounded nuns" is the best you can do, it works for me.
• Kinda goes under the PDA category, but couples sitting at the same side of the table. It messes up the feng shui of the room, and the qi (alternatively spelled "chi", but I go with "qi" -- great Scrabble word, by the way) flow is all screwed up. Also, you don't have to cuddle while eating. You really shouldn't be cuddling while eating. Even at Starbucks, I don't want you to be sitting at the same table. You look ridiculous.
• Also under the PDA category, but sharing chairs. I'm so sick of these hooligans, snuggling in the comfy, squishy chairs in Starbucks. I love those chairs. But when you're all making out and sprawled all over each other, I'm not about to go sit down across from you. Also, adolescent girls: stop dragging five or six of the squishy chairs together, before forgoing them and sitting on each other's laps. Firstly, you don't need to sit on each other's laps; there are plenty of chairs. And secondly, you're hogging the comfy chairs, and Lil' Granny's knees are sore.

If you have any other Valentine's pet peeves, let me know and I'll add them to the list.

Happy Valentine's day. :)