Bountiful booty...of condoms at the Olympics

I was watching the Olympic 100m dash finals the other day. Usain Bolt, a sprinter from Jamaica, won in world-record time of 9.69. What's unbelievable isn't that he broke the world record, or that he beat the field by .20. What's unbelievable is that he did all that after shutting it down about 20 meters before the finish line. Word on the street and in the track world is that he could've run a 9.56 or so had he not been show-boating. That's absolutely ridiculous. As many of you know, the person who wins the 100 meter dash is considered the "worlds fastest man". And that brings me to my point.
100,000 condoms were passed out at the Olympic Village in China. The original number was supposed to be 250,000—apparently they ran out in Syndey—but protesters caused that number to be scaled down. Makes sense, though. Can you imagine putting your life on hold for four years while you prepare for they Olympics? The only thing I've ever done for four years is college. And I gave up nothing to do it. In fact, I picked up some vices. When you're training for the Olympics, there's no pizza, no chips, no beer, no freetime, and most of all, no girlfriend or boyfriend. You're putting the best athletes in the world in a fish bowl armed with nothing but their highly tuned bodies and four years of penned up sexual tension. I'm surprised there aren't more reports of injury. Regular people could be hurt, but these are Olympians. Imagine what they can do with those tuned bodies after they decide business is over and it's playtime. If your event is finished earlier in the week, you have a week and a half to "have fun". Most of these people are between the ages of 20 and 30, I'm guessing, and unmarried. It's party time—like a freshman dorm on steroids, no pun intended. With all that going on, can you imagine going up to a girl and saying, "Hi, I'm Usain Bolt, the worlds fastest man. I was wondering if you'd like to—nevermind, we just did. Or what if you're Phelps? "Hi, I'm the greatest Olympian of all time." Phelps should probably get a dozen condoms for every gold medal.
I'm sure some athletes are more focused than others, but the best swimmer or basketball player in Uzbekistan is like being on your JV team in high school. You may get to travel with the big boys, but you're not going to play. You're around just so the Varsity can beat up on you at practice. Why do you do it? The ring. The 12th man on the Celtics got a championship ring. Well, when you're not going to win a medal the ring is being there. They take their beating, get a pat on the back and go have a good time. It's like vacation. I can't believe that the basketball team from Turkey expected to win a medal. They went to represent their country and enjoy being at the Olympics. After the game their first stop was probably the line at the student union or wherever they pass out your bounty of condoms. Their next stop was the cookie jar, fish bowl or sock drawer—wherever they keep them. Next thing you know they were eating pizzas and drinking beers.
I don't want to throw LeBron under the bus, but look at him checking out Alicia Sacramone's butt like he's been trapped on a deserted island for a while and her booty looks like a burger. And he's probably pretty focused on winning the gold (I think he's married too). Imagine what the guy on the Turkish basketball team is doing. His focus is on that booty.

wrapping it up is good. saving the wrapper is bad.

I was at Starbucks the other day buying a muffin and I couldn't find any change in my pocket. So I did that thing where you empty out the contents of your pockets onto the counter in search of the correct change. I pulled out lint, quarters, pennies, dimes and a peanut I think. In my rush to get everything out of my pocket to find some change, I accidentally procured a used condom wrapper. It was funny. Everything was slow motion like a duel on a western movie--like right when the clock strikes 12 and they draw their guns. I noticed it before she did. I looked at her to see if she saw what happened. I reached my hand onto the counter to try and execute the broom (where you use your hand to sweep everything off), but I was too late. My cat-like movements attracted her eye. She looked down at the wrapper and then disgustingly into my eyes. I felt like a little boy when you get in trouble and your mom gives you that boy-you-know-better-look. You know the one where she holds her head to the side, puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head slowly. At that moment the Starbucks girl's demeanor completely changed from smiling, attentive and helpful to completely disgusted. She squinted as she looked from the counter to me and made that noise that sounds like a balloon when you let all the air out. Pssssss. I gave her an ooops-my-bad smile and shrugged my shoulders. Instead of handing me my muffin she slid the plate along the counter like I had the plague or something and she didn't want to get too close to me. The condom wrapper is still on the counter, mind you. I slid the plate, along with the contents of my pocket, into my hands and walked over to the table. It was pretty embarrassing. Why I kept the old condom wrapper I don't know. I don't have an old condom wrapper collection or anything. It wasn't a lucky condom wrapper or a memento from an unforgettable moment. I don't know why I didn't throw it away like I did the rest of it. It provided for a funny story, though.

uncomfortable

Every guy remembers how undomfortable it was the first time they bought condoms. It may be one of the most uncomfortable things you'll ever do. My first time, I walked around the store for about 15 minutes pretending I didn't know where they were, and refusing help when asked if I needed some. Finally, I approached the section, and after much deliberating about things I hand no idea about, like spermicidal jelly, ribbed and resevior tip, I decided on her pleasure. Even at an early age I figured I might need some help in that area. After that, I walked around the store for about ten more minutes and then I approached the counter. I grabbed one of those Hollywood tabloid magazines and pretended to read it so I wouldn't have to look the woman at the counter in the eye. The only time I left the cover of my magazine was to grab the bag and tip-toe out. I won't lie, I felt really cool at the time. I put the condom in my wallet so it would get the little distressed ring inside (you know the one I'm talking about). I showed it to everyone who wanted to see it.
Now, about a month away from my 25th birthday, I don't think buying condoms is cool anymore, but it is just as uncomfortable. I still walk aimlessly around pretending like I don't know where the condoms are. They even put them in the back of the store so you have to make the long walk to the front. Well, the other day I went into the store to freshen up my goodies drawer and there just so happened to be an older female cashier and an older woman already at the counter. I tried to stand in the back but the older woman wasn't ready yet and asked me to go in front of her. The whole time I was whistling a son, and I never once looked the cashier in the eye. I just played with my bank card. I saw the older woman behind me look at my finger. I'm sure she was thinking to herself how much of a sinner I was for having pre-marital sex. I felt like I was disappointing her. She just looked at me like she wanted to give me a hug. Then the woman at the counter said, "Have a nice night", (voice inflection on night) and I just felt dirty. I felt like she knew what I was about to do--like she thought I was going to do it in the parking lot or something. I was so relieved when I got out of there. I feel like there should be a no speech policy in the drug store when people buy condoms. When you leave, the cashier should just nod their head. You nod your head back in agreement and then you leave.