Michael Phelps Confuses Me
In case you didn’t know, Michael Phelps and I are not on the same page. Seriously, you should write this down.
Michael Phelps got in the pool in his hometown of Baltimore this week and said, “It was painful.” Huh?
“I’m a little out of shape. But I will be able to get back. I am going to start working out more.”
What does he consider to be “in shape”? My gut is getting in between us, literally and figuratively. My ass is not only way outta shape, it needs a good three years of training according to Michael’s standards. This is the price you pay for dating an athlete or anyone with a cut body. You will be considered obese in comparison to them. But I digress.
Michael also claims he doesn’t notice all the attention he gets from the ladies,… I believe it. Nerds don’t observe shit. You have to jump on their laps, put their hands in your special places and give ‘em a lap dance before they realize that, ‘hey, maybe she likes me?’
Mikey says,
“I don’t really notice it. When I go out, go to dinner, I go out with friends, and we stay to ourselves. I don’t think of myself as a sex symbol. My mom is by far the most important woman in my life.”
Uh, muthafucka… your body is a sex symbol, not your face. But since your body comes with your face, it’ll have to do for now, until you get some work done. I kid. I kid. I don’t care about his face because I wouldn’t look at it during sex.
