Posts Tagged ‘olympics

In honor of the O’s ending today and leaving me incredibly depressed – (no more shots of Hot Harry watching the games? No more amazing athletes? No more avoiding news sites during the day to avoid getting spoiled?? Sigh)…. here are some of my favorite pictures from my short time in London. See you in Rio!

(Click on the first pic for the gallery to open)


I’m baaaaaaaaaaaack!

Not necessarily happily, though. If I had my way, I’d still be in London, still soaking in the rare sunny days and not getting my layering correct so that I’m either too hot and sweaty or too cold and shivering, still reveling in the Olympic atmosphere that was everywhere, and still enjoying the chants of “Team GB!!” all around.

A few random things I noticed while there:

1) British girls love to not wear pants.  Apparently, wearing a long shirt (they ARE NOT dresses) that barely covers the cha-cha area, and then donning black (always black. Always.) panty-hose is de-rigueur these days. Um… TIGHTS ARE NOT PANTS.  They are sheer pieces of fabric designed to help you stay warm, under dresses. THEY ARE NOT TO BE WORN ALONE. WITHOUT SOMETHING COVERING THEM. LIKE A DRESS.

Seriously, Brits, WTF? I don’t want to see the pantyhose thigh-line that doesn’t get covered. I don’t want to think of how you sit down at a restaurant or on the tube, in just tights, your nether regions being barely protected and how I might sit there after you. And what about when you get a run in those tights? Then what? Do you just take them off and stroll around London in your semi-long-ish shirt, that is still not a dress???   (Ha! I’m not the only one who feels this way.)

2) They take their cycling seriously. Super seriously. Not just in the Olympics, but in the bike lanes too. They will mow your ass down if you dare walk in the “bike only” lane. While I understand it’s bike-only (and no, this didn’t happen to me, but saw it plenty of times), given the influx of visitors from all over the world, you think they’d cut some slack on certain things. Yes, it’s annoying to have all these tourists in your country that don’t know the rules, I totally understand that, but is there a need to be so unpleasant about it? I think not.  I knew this from ‘dating’ British, but I didn’t realize it applied to the whole country. Now it totally makes sense how he had money for fixing his bike but not for taking me to dinner. Totally.

3) The Brits are among the most self-deprecating, self-flagellating group of people, ever.  The interviews by the BBC after the events were sort of amazing. The athletes can barely breathe, they just competed and won/lost/lost out on a gold by seconds/whatever, and the BBC pundits ask questions like: “Are you disappointed in yourself?” Listen, you little twat – they just competed in the Olympics. Yes, they’re upset if things didn’t go well, but don’t lead them on with those questions! And then… the responses. Most Americans would say something to the effect of : “Yeah, I’m disappointed — I tried my best, it just wasn’t good enough today.”

The Brits? You get this: “I’m so sad. I let myself down. My family down. All that training was a waste of time. I could’ve been spending time with my family instead of training for a match I would lose.”

Holy fuck, man. You didn’t kill someone. You just didn’t place in your event. It’s ok.  Really, it’s ok. (I tried to find this interview but couldn’t – if I find it, will update with a link. It was with the BBC’s Phil Jones and I don’t remember the runner, but it was in the Athletics competitions.)

On a personal note – I knew this from ‘dating’ British as well. We were chatting one night, and he, in a heavily drunken state made reference to the size of his “member” not being that impressive. And how I should know that up-front. Well, alrighty then. I mean, sure, it’s better to not lie about it, but isn’t that just odd? And totally so opposite of what an American boy would say, which would be something to the effect of: “Yeah, I need Magnums.”  (And no, it wasn’t impressive. Neither were his moobs.)

4) The stupid Olympics ticketing system was a piece of shit. We tried, with NO luck, to get tickets to anything, anywhere. You know what error message we kept getting? “Tickets for this event will be released on June 8.” IT’S AUGUST.  It was so annoying to be in Hyde Park, watching Andy Murray and Serena Williams play on the big screens (obviously, not each other), and see empty seats in the stands. We would’ve waited in queue for hours if we had to, but no. They decided that they only way people would get tickets was online, via a system that crashed continuously. Even the locals were complaining as they’d all had the same issues we had.

For all those little points, everyone was super proud and patriotic, regardless of what country they were from, and everyone was really welcoming. We had an amazing time – the city was clean and prepared for the tourists, they had hundreds of volunteers, all easily found in bright pink, who would answer any stupid question we had, and the signage everywhere was just fantastic – we couldn’t have got lost if we tried. I am so glad I had the experience. Will post pictures soon 🙂

For now, here’s London Bridge with the O-rings – a picture I took on our last day. Just awesome.






Just talked to my parents….

Dad: “Did you see the news reports about the pickpocketers in London?”

Mom: “You better be careful! Keep your passport close at all times… Watch your purse!!”

Dad: “Yeah, they’re all Romanian so they’re white and you can’t tell them apart from the locals. It’s hard to know who’s going to steal your stuff. Plus they’re doing it on the tube when it’s crowded. Just watch out, ok?”

Me (after I quit giggling at my dad’s racism, which is kind of true): “Um…. I didn’t see the report, but we’ll be careful, I promise. If I need to, I”ll just do like Mommy did on the train!”

So in 1987, we were in India (and on a side note, my fucking God that feels like an eternity ago) and we were taking the train in Bombay. It was really crowded, and we were all sort of spread out in the area where you stand. My mom was just a few people away from me, and my dad/brother were on the other side, a few people more away, and my sister was somewhere near me.

Some guy behind my mom raised his hand, and apparently, to my dad, looked like he was going to steal my mom’s gold necklace (off her neck). He yelled: “{CurryLove’s Mom!} Watch out! He’s stealing your necklace!!!”

My mom turned around, looked so shocked AND SLAPPED THE GUY BEHIND HER! SHE JUST SLAPPED HIM!

He was SO STUNNED and looked at my mom, and says, “Bhen! {respectful way of addressing a woman your age/means sister} – I was just pulling out my notebook!!” And out of his pocket he takes out a notebook that held phone numbers or addresses.

Me, my sister and my brother COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING. Even my dad was laughing. I don’t think he expected my mom to HIT SOMEONE!!! We all had the giggles. My mom’s still shaking after slapping this random stranger and apologizing profusely for hitting him and explaining that she thought he was going to steal her stuff.

TO THIS DAY, this story is told in our family. There are, of course, two possibilities:  1) For all we know, he really could’ve been trying to take her necklace. But she hit him so hard, right across the face, that he would’ve never done it again. OR, 2) he was totally innocent and my mom slapped a stranger who was just getting something from his pocket.

We prefer going with the second version when we tell it. 🙂

This title could apply to SO MANY THINGS in my life, but in this case, it’s just a story about my upcoming trip to London.

A few of us went out on Friday night, and somehow, we all ended up fairly drunk. I mean, maybe it was like the 5 drinks each we all had…

In any case, I was chatting with my friend that I’m going to London with – she is a lot fun, really laid back and we were both getting super hyped about everything.

In my drunken state, I said to her: “Our goal for London should be to GET INTO BUCKINGHAM PALACE!!!!!!!  So I can meet my future PRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINCE!!!!!!!!!!!!”

She, in her drunken yet surprisingly realistic state, said: “Um….OK. Let’s lower our goals. We should maybe just be happy if we see the palace for about 30 seconds, on our way to the pub, and we keep walking.”

A few guards, gates and some fencing isn’t really going to stop me…

It’s not for my amazing athletic ability though.

After talking about this stupid trip for SO LONG (seriously, at least 6 months), it’s finally coming together… not because I’m so convincingly fun that people wanted to travel across the Atlantic with me, but more so because Delta had a massive fare sale that was AWESOME.

So I bought my ticket today and am incredibly excited!!!! And then my friend texted and said his friend actually has tickets to some events, so maybe I’ll even get to see something! I don’t care if it’s fucking sumo wrestling. I just want to go to an Olympic event.

Usually, when I tell my parents I’m planning an overseas trip, my mom says all of this in some sort of order: “If you see everything yourself, what will be left to see with your husband? There will be nothing new!” and then “Why do you want to waste money??” and then “You need to save and should wait until you have someone to go with.”  All the same stuff, in random combinations, that shows her disapproval but never her outright dis-allowance of said trip.

That ship has fucking sailed.

Today, on skype, I told them I might be going and they didn’t bat an eye.

My dad just says: “If you go, can you bring me back a one-foot tall Big Ben statue? But not if it’s too expensive.”




No, I’ve never had “Olympic sex” – I don’t even know what that is. Sex in Greece? Sex with an Olympian? Sex while the Olympics is playing in the background? Sex for a really long time?  I’m not sure but those all sound good to me. In any case, just because I haven’t done doesn’t mean I don’t want to… My plans for later this summer include going to London, having a good time and fucking an Olympic athlete, because why not. I don’t even care what sport – it could be a guy from the {whatever country} ping-pong team and I’d be fine with that.

The reason I even want to do this is because I have had the chance to sleep with an Olympian before and I passed it up!!!! I didn’t know until I googled him that he was a Bronze-medal winner in hockey AND he’d just signed a $4M contract!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was a few years ago and I was in Chicago for a bachelorette party (that marriage ended already, but she’s WAY better off). We were out for the night and ran into a NHL team that was celebrating making the play-offs. They invited us up into the VIP area and we just hung out for awhile. I ended up sitting next to this really nice Czech guy. We watched as one of the girls from my party gave one of his team-mates a lap-dance. He kind of raised his eyebrow at me to say “Where’s mine” and I laughed and told him he had the wrong girl, there was no way I was doing that. He laughed as well and said he was glad I wouldn’t. We chatted for a bit, as much as you can in a loud club, and around 2am, a few of us shared a cab back to the hotels.

He asked me to come spend the night so we could “talk” some more, which actually made me snort. I was sitting in his lap, of course, as there was no room in the taxi, so I’m sure he really appreciated me laughing at him. He very sweetly (and probably very lying-ly) said he’d get me my own room, he just wanted to get to know me better. I kissed him goodbye as he got out of the cab and gave him my number.  Yeah… he didn’t call. I was a little sad but not surprised. After getting home, I googled him and found what I missed out on…. ARGH!!!!  He was cute, funny, sweet, and totally wanting to get laid BY ME!

I said no only because I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of finding a taxi in the morning, doing the walk of shame, making us late for the next day out, etc etc … Dammit.

I will always be selfish from now on.

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