Jenny On the Spot

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…

Torres’s retinue includes a head coach, a sprint coach, a strength coach, two stretchers, two masseuses, a chiropractor and a nanny, at the cost of at least $100,000 per year.

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.

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