Olympic Sports that don’t exist, but should

I’m not a jock. And I don’t purport to be one (I’m quite happy being an anti-jock). But I’ve been thinking and I realised there are certain sports in which I would flourish, and I am hugely disappointed in this entity we call “society” that my true talents cannot be recognised and seen for what they are.

This brings us to our topic for today, the Bachelor Olympics.

I can’t imagine anyone that actually enjoys watching all that bullshit like fat chicks throwing metal slugs, or malformed dudes doing “DanceSport” (having said that, Sumo is pretty cool, as is Javelin. Billiards would be badass if it were a little more realistic and all the dudes were hammer-drunk.)

Here follows my proposed Bachelor Olympics revision:

1. Olympic powernapping. Ability to achieve most consecutive powernaps over longest successive time period, avoiding the need for urination and food consumption. Not quite a spectator sport, but it’s tough when the competitors get down to it!
2. If filling up the garbage can in the kitchen as much as possible before taking out the trash was an Olympic sport, I’d be so dominant that people would accuse me of being underage.
3. Many-for-one microwave meal eating. Since you always know that it would be wrong not to buy 3 at that price, you always do. And only read that the Best Before for all three reads “Yesterday” when you get home. Inevitably this results in the lesser known Weeknight binge-eat.
4. On that note: Binge-drinking. While we could pretend that we thought we’d have more people round, we all know we’re closet alcoholics and that there is no reason any normal person should be consuming 20 beers in one night. But then, why not?
5. Pub pissing. Corollary to number (5) – after 12 beers, you’ve broken the seal. Now you’ve either got to fight it, or embrace it. If you embrace it, how long can you pee for? Can you hold your breath equally long to ensure your survival in that rancid place? (Women’s version involves nose powdering with a certain white substance whilst making convincingly lady-like toilet noises.)
6. Lumberjacking. There is nothing more manly than cutting down a big ‘ol tree and knowing that you’re contributing to Global Warming for fun and for profit.
7. Any grass version of an astroturf sport. Grass is always better. I’ve never smoked any good astroturf.
8. Dish-packing. I once lived with some dudes, it got so bad the only way we could eat anything was if we mangled the dish out of the precarious dish pile in the sink and took it outside to wash under the hosepipe. We prided ourselves on our creativity in developing more and more creative ways to eat without cutlery.
9. Food stacking. You know you’re going to have a big night in. You’ve got the TV lined up. The remote is itching for your attention and the beer is cold. The final challenge: proper prior preparation – the tastiest, most instant, heart-attack inducing crap you can find, stacked perfectly within arm reach. Double points if you get the girl to prepare and serve.
10. Olympic Channel surfing. The requires skill and an acute sense. Just as others in the room are settling into a program you need to be able snatch the controller away, zap onto a new channel, and then lull them into a false sense of security before the next time-rape.

Any event, this post is warbling to a halt, and I’ve got rugby to watch. Any sport with hookers in it is a good one. Would prefer if they were of the right gender really, but heck sometimes you’ve gotta accept the world as we live in it.

Anyway, my point is “I’m a lazy slob.” Please cater to my preference in lack of jockism. (Lastly, if this post doesn’t make much sense, forgive me, I don’t really know where I am right now, I’m hopped up on beer and Tylenol and I don’t really care.)

What real man bachelor sports can you recommend? Catch you later masturbators, and give me your musings.