Wow, so according to the New York Post, Michael Phelps was seen making out with Stephanie Rice – the Australian Gold Medal simmer. I guess the point here is that he’s essentially seen as a racehorse and whoever gets his kid will be set up with a deal for life. I mean, that’s how everything in relation to Phelps is looking at the moment.
He’s signing endorsement deals everywhere, he’s writing another book – who knew he wrote the first one but apparently he’s doing another – a book about training and how to raise kids in a celebrity culture like LA – I mean, sorry, something about his absent father. He’s endorsing cereal, I’m hoping he’ll endorse birth control pills or something too – something hilariously ironic like that; these pills stop his swimmers in their tracks! Ha Ha, oh shit.
I’m just sort of interested in how Michael Phelps’ celebrity emerges and how he deals with it. I really need him to not wear his baseball cap slightly cocked to the side though. I just hate it when guys do that. It’s so utterly vain and contrived and they have to live around how weird and awkward it is but they think it makes them look quirky fun but hardcore and part of the pack. I guess that’s what women want. Individualism as evidenced through a hat but fundamental compliance with social structure. How exciting.
What was the other thing I was going to say here? Oh yeah, so I woke up this morning at 4 and thought I was having a heart attack but I wasn’t. I couldn’t breathe and my entire chest was in stabbing pain but I knew it was a muscle pain not a heart thing so I took two muscle relaxants and two painkillers I was given by someone who isn’t a doctor and now I feel like I’m off the planet. Note that I’m still putting in the effort.
So, in short, Michael Phelps is now a National Hero and you could probably use the business model for a racehorse to figure out what to do with him to maximize profits and I am sort of whacked out on goof balls. [source]
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