The world’s most beautiful athletes are beach volleyball players. Period. Only Amanda Beard and a few other swimmers approach their sleek, supple grace. Besides, women swimmers perform in and mostly under the water. Volleyballers are out there all the time. In the sun. On sand. In very tiny outfits. Keep quite about Sharapova and rest of the tennis mob. They grunt and shriek. A lot. It’s annoying. Produces really scary images of what they sound like in bed.
Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh are beautiful and could kick us Bubbas to the curb in back to back skunked sets wearing their flip flops. If you are a man reading this, do not even think about a retort. Accept it. We would be toast. Fortunately we do not have to play them. More fortunately, they play two women who are also strikingly beautiful. Makes it easy to watch. And they hug. A lot. Admit it guys, you love watching this stuff. If you don’t, please don’t comment. No one will think less of you.
As I watch, I realize there is some lucky bastard out there with the best job in the world. Before each match, on each player, he puts on those little stick-on faux tattoo ads for Oakley or Speedo on their bodies. Every day he gets up, goes to the beach and sticks things on beautiful women. And he gets paid for it. Is this a great country or what?
No comments:
Post a Comment