Phelps Father skips Beijing for Fraser Flicks

Sunday I took my nephews to the movies at one of our big multiplex cinemas. It was raining so I was wearing my Olympic boxing wind-breaker. I bought tickets to The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor plus drinks and snacks at the concession stand and used my Visa (Morgan Freeman's voice: official card of the Olympics and the only card used there) for the transactions.

Typical in today's world of identity theft, they asked for my ID each time I used my credit card. I don't mind this as it's good practice for when President Hannity and his Savage brown shirts are running things.

Well, after an hour of covered faces and asking when it's OK to watch (to the exaggerated sighs of the corpulent comic book store owner sitting next to us), The Mummy, despite Brendan Fraser's manic mugging, turned out to be too scary for the boys. We opted to switch to another movie, so I zipped back to the ticket booth and bought passes to the other Brendan Fraser flick available, Journey to the Center of the Earth, 3D (soon to be a classic).

Good times were had by all and afterward I shuttled my nephews home with the hopes of turning around and meeting my wife and some friends back at the theater to see Tropic Thunder. She beat me there, bought her tickets and stocked up at the concession stand using her Visa, too.

The popcorn girl noticed her name and asked, "Oh, are you related to Michael Phelps, the swimmer?" My wife responded, "No."

"That's funny," said popcorn girl, "his father was here earlier today."

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Phelps to Move to Brazil for Beach Volleyball

Wow, I've never noticed until this morning how much I love Brazil.

It's really beautiful down there.

Unbelievably beautiful.

I want to spend a lot of time in Brazil. Maybe learn to do the mambo there. I'd explore every secret place, get familiar with it on a personal level and maybe even make it my home. Ah, yes, I could really settle in there and make Brazil my home.

If I moved to Brazil, I'd get to know the locals and take time to chew the fat whenever I wasn't showing Brazil how much I loved and appreciated her. I'd even learn to spell my new home's name with an S.

A super fine S.

. . .

super fine.

. . .

Phelps Admits to Doping

It's true, I admit it.

I was sitting in a den in Bombay. I had a slack jaw and not much to say. That's where the doping started. I asked the man, "are you trying to tempt me?" when he filled the bowl of my pipe with the sweetest black Khali opium I had ever tasted. What a ride. It was like traveling in a fried-out combie on a hippie trail, head full of zombie.

From there, my troupe moved on to Bangkok. It was just one night, but I couldn't get out of those chess bars. It was really such a pity how I saw a god in every golden cloister, and lucky me, some of those gods were a she. I got Thai'd like a tourist on some Pnom Bang that was the purist. Talk about getting your kicks above the waistline.

Well, the next thing I knew I was in Beijing with my hands wrapped around a three-foot long bong shaped like a China girl. It was silly, but I found myself threatening her between hits. I was saying, "My little China girl, you shouldn't mess with me. I'll ruin everything you are." Eventually I stumbled into town like a sacred cow. I had visions of swastikas in my head and plans for everyone in my troupe. But the party had to end.

What a crazy week. That's about all I remember from the 80's. I still have that bong, though. And when I get excited, I can hear my little China girl say, "Oh baby, just you shut your mouth."


She says, "Sh-sh-shhhh."

. . .