Oh man, I totally killed on my floor routine last night.
There is nothing in the world like rocking your floor routine on such a huge, International stage with speechless onlookers. I felt the stunned silence of billions of spectators the world over, watching as I tucked and rolled on that apparatus. It’s hard to describe. Adrenaline pumps so fast and furious that you hardly feel the taser.
My coaches found my choice of Dr. Dre’s Bitches Ain’t Shit as floor music objectionable, so I fired them in the middle of my routine. I needed to show those other gymnasts what they were up against and I like to express myself with gangsta rap and a kung fu-gymnastics hybrid, but the Karolyis are old school and they didn’t like my hot fire. We all have our special ways. I tried to tell them, but they just kept yelling for more and more security while I really got going on my masterful routine. My passes are so fast and tight that I bet no one noticed me writing that severance agreement while I tumbled across the mat. That’s how good I am. Some may call it arrogance, I call it honesty.
In women’s gymnastics, the floor routine, or FX as I like to call it, is an opportunity for a gymnast to show off her personality. I wanted to set myself apart from those tiny 16 year olds we usually have twirling around to the Finale of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. I knew that 2008 was the year for me and I wanted to show them what a 31 year old woman of size could do with a song that exploits women and says fuck and shit a lot. I know that the music isn’t supposed to have any sort of vocalization, but fuck that shit. That’s exactly what I was writing in the severance agreement for my ex-coaches in the middle of that routine I rocked so hardcore.
Oh man, I totally murdered that routine last night.
Scoring for the floor routine is tricky, and I’ll be honest, I don’t really know the rules so I’m going to quote Wikipedia here for you. I’m pretty sure it’s where the Olympic judges get their information from, too, because I saw the Argentinan one furiously typing away on her MacBook while China’s Olympic Security guards tried to tackle me in the middle of my routine. They were just jealous that I was going to kick their team’s ass with my floor scores. I just kept tumbling the shit out of my routine while they dove around like the Keystone cops.
According to Wikipedia, FX scores are based on “difficulty, artistry, demonstration of required elements and overall performance quality. Deductions are taken for poor form and execution, lack of required elements, falls and other infractions. The gymnast is expected to use the entire floor area for her routine, and to tumble from one corner of the mat to the other. However, steps outside the designated perimeters of the floor incur penalties.” Do you know what? It doesn’t say anything in those rules about not eating cotton candy while you cartwheel your way to victory. It’s the secret to my dismount. I’ll stick it every time. I don’t care what that judge from Cambodia says, the rules don’t say one single word about that cotton candy or my gun holster.
Docking points for poor form and lack of compulsory elements seems unfair because they didn’t tell me what was required before I sprinted from the bleachers and started my awesome FX. I had no idea it was mandatory to go across the floor from one corner to the other. I think they should have given me credit for my bob and weave moves when those Russian gymnasts tried to grab my legs. I was as fast as lightning and as nimble as a cheetah and that could have garnered at least a mention from the announcer or maybe a slow-motion replay on the jumbotron.
My routine was the best thing to happen to Beijing. I absolutely nailed the shit out of it.
To be fair, I did deserve a deduction for stepping out of bounds, but I just want the record to reflect that the force of those rubber bullets got me off balance and there was nothing I could do but crumple to the ground just outside the white line. I was done anyway.
At least someone recognizes talent: Thank you to XUP for bestowing upon me the Arte y Pico which sounds similar to Pico De Gallo but, I am told, is actually an award and not best served with chips. I don’t know of five other bloggers who deserve to win the same award as I do so, instead of passing out more of these totally made up statuettes, I’m going to donate $5.00 to the charity of your choice.