Farewell, Beijing.

As I write this, I'm imagining that somewhere in Beijing's Olympic City quite a few athletes are groggily rolling out of bed or managing to scrape themselves off the floor, and nursing their hangovers after a night of decadence and debauchery. Yesterday's article in The Times Online on Sex and the Olympic City got me fantasizing about all those scantily clad Olympians and their hot bodies writhing against each other in what I imagine to be an Olympic Orgy, full of gold-medal blow jobs and relay races involving free condoms, teabagging, and kung pao chicken. Thinking about it makes me want to take up some obscure event like trampoline gymnastics and try for the 2012 games just so I could wear a hidden camera and catch "Olympians Gone Wild" on video. Hell, if I could have sex with a trampoline gymnast, then it would all be worth it. Or sex with a gymnast on a trampoline. Or even sex with an Olympic gymnast. Or just a gymnast. Not even an Olympian. I'll take what I can get. How bout just sex on a trampoline? Anyone?