Pain in the sweet sweet ass

 We were gathered at a friend's house to celebrate another 30th birthday.  (Side note...SEVEN of my friends & family, including the boyfriend Jewed Law and my baby sister turned 30 the calendar year.  Yes if you have done the math, I am dating a younger man . . . and if you are curious, yes he is younger than my baby sister by 5 months (insert cougar growl here).)  Anyway it was the night of the opening ceremonies for the Olympics.  We tried to make things a bit more interesting during the parade of nations by calling out the country only based on the flag and our knowledge of alphabetical list of nations.  Yeah, HUGE nerds.  Once the aspect ratio on the TV was changed, we noticed the countries were listed on the bottom...so we switched to naming the capitals of the countries (did I mention we were a bunch of nerds).  Those lushes among us noticed that every other flag bearer was either a Judo or Taekwondo competitor, and that spun the idea of a great drinking game.  From that point on, we would take a drink every time a flag bearer came up as Judo or Taekwondo . . . which turned out to be a whole lotta of drinks.
The rumor is that the Olympic athletes have lots of sex with each other in the village.  LOTS!  The quote is, "it doesn't matter if their face is only a 7 . . . when their body is a 20!" 
My contribution to the party was a pinata.  Who says adults couldn't enjoy a good pinata thrashing every once in a while.  We found a broomstick for the birthday girl.  Turns out the store bought pinatas (a triceratops in this case . . . yes our geekeyness extends to dinosaurs) are like industrial strength thick as a mother fucker.  We resorted to throwing down on the concrete and bashing it on the ground.  Okay we are really not that violent of people, but dang it I wanted some snickers and taffy.
Being inspired by the Olympics, I've decided to ride my bike more.  Now trips to the dry cleaners or Sunday brunches are all done on the bicycle.  The most ambitious ride thus far was to the pierogi festival in Indiana.  Round trip it was around 50 miles.  Granted it was at a snails pace but the amount of time in the saddle will really work your ass.  Seriously, the bumps of the road will make it feel like your butt is bruised.  As a precaution, I wore two sets of padded cycling shorts (and yes I did look like I was sporting the world's largest maxi-pad, but my butt was much happier because of it).

The pierogi festival overtook the small town.  There were people in pierogi costumes, polka bands, and 50 different pierogi venders.  Along with the pierogis, there were a hearty representation of some of the worst food imaginable.  Chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick, funnel cake banana split, and a 1/2 lb cheese covered bacon wrapped deep fat fried hot dog!
The big entertainment at the festival (besides polka dancing in which Jewed Law and I partook in much to the amusement of the old people) was "Dunk a Nun".  Yep, they had one of those dunking tank amusement park games with a nun in it.  Oh yeah they were selling t-shirts and everything to promote this (the shirts said "I dunked a nun . . . no I really did").  I guess every year the nuns do this to raise money for a children's charity.  They were real good sports about it, even encouraging people and saying "good job" or "oh just a little more to the left" (all totally sincere).  When the nun would drop in the water, the whole crowd would cheer.  Man are we all going to hell!

On our way back, we ran into a crowd perched on and around a pedestrian underpass.  They were doing tricks on roller blades off the staircase and ramps.  I was waiting for one of them to bust an ankle or head since the staircase ended abruptly in a concrete wall.  One thing to note, I have never seen a larger gathering of black skinny pants outside a warped tour.