STORY COURTESY: CRACKED
Like many of you, I spent most of the past weekend elbow deep in a bag of Cheetos while watching the Olympics. "Ha ha ha ha ha!" I cackled, spraying cheese crumbs everywhere, while watching male gymnasts wipe out on failed high bar maneuvers. "Not so pretty anymore, are you?" I shrieked, desperately hoping no one would know how incredibly, threateningly pretty I thought they still were.
But as I wallowed in confusing feelings and corn snacks, it occurred to me that, just perhaps, instead of the elite athletes, I was the one who was actually the loser. Thinking about it only hurt more; unlike these athletes, the only thing I've ever dedicated my life to is penis jokes, a skill that is unlikely to ever get me on a box of cereal. Not a good cereal, anyways.
