First off, yeah. It’s Dara Torres, not Dana Torres. My bad.
To refresh your memory, she is the 41 year-old superwoman of all swimmingness… who won a spot on this year’s U.S. Olympic Team to become the oldest woman to ever swim in the Olympics. Sha. Zam.
Anywho. In this post, I wrote her name as “Dana” because the article I linked to in that post gave her that name too. In the spirit of journalistic integrity, I feel I should correct my error. It’s Dara.
Dara. Dara. Dara. *** not unlike Jan Brady’s jealous whine, “Marsha. Marsha. Marsha.”***
My good friend Julie Leung sent me a link to an article in the NY Times about Dara Torres.
***crickets chirping***
***stunned***
***eye twitching***
Did you that picture?
The woman is a machine. And she has a staff that helps keep her primed. And she is 6 feet tall…
I have written a poem:
Why I Will Never Rock the Water Nor be an Olympian Like Dara…
I don’t have a head coach.
Nor a coach for sprinting.
Nor even a coach made of a pumpkin.
Neither like Dara, nor Cinderella am I.
No strength coach…
no stretcher-people neither.
Masseuse?
Schmasseuse!
2 Masseuses?
Double Schmasseuses!
I have no nanny.
I haven’t seen my chiropractor
since December.
$$$,$$$
No. Words.
I. Eat. Sugar.
Go. Dara. Go.
The end.
********************
Keep up-to-date on the insane, the insightful, and the whatever…
Recent Comments