Top 10 Nicknames for Olympic Gymnastics All-Around Champion and Credit to Her Race, Gabrielle Douglas
10. The jumping squirrel
9. The decomposing rat
8. Gutsu was cuter
7. The coffee that stayed in the pot too long
6. The flying monkey
5. The only one who can do anything about all dis white racist bullshit up in dis motherfucker
4. The black hole
3. The elegant token
2. The 16-year itch
1. Thank God at least Nasty, A-Suk and dimwit Shawn didn’t make the London team
Judge says the case will go on
About her 3/15 interview, Moceanu says, “Sorry, Amy, but you pushed me to it.”
BAKERSFIELD, CA. – Chow vs. Moceanu will move into court, a district court judge ruled Thursday, with a preliminary hearing scheduled for April 2.
U.S. District Judge John Mayberry said he believes the case has merit after reviewing various pieces of evidence from former U.S. gymnast Amy Chow – evidence that Mayberry said the public will not have access to until it is revealed in court.
A civil lawsuit filed by Chow on Monday at district court in Bakersfield, Calif., charges Chow’s former teammate, Dominique Moceanu, with unlawfully marketing as her own a bobblehead doll originally made for Chow. The 33-year-old Chow, who is now a physician in Stanford, Calif., also accuses Moceanu of unethical business practices that Chow believes could harm her public image.
Chow declined to go forward with production of the doll, which Moceanu, 30, believes releases her, Moceanu, from any accusation of legal wrongdoing.
In an interview shortly after the lawsuit was filed, Moceanu maintained that she did nothing wrong when in 2004 she agreed to let novelty toy manufacturer Lite-Magic of St. Louis create “The Dominique Moceanu Bobblehead Doll” from a prototype the company originally had designed for an Amy Chow doll.
Noting that she hadn’t been aware of Chow’s connection to the design at the time Lite-Magic approached her, Moceanu said on Monday, “I can’t even believe this is even happening to me. She can’t sue me for something that was never hers . . . I didn’t steal her stupid doll.”
Moceanu was to be interviewed Friday by a community magazine in Cleveland, where she lives. When reached by phone earlier that same day, she would not elaborate on the angle of the interview, except to say, “I’m sick and tired of people trying to take advantage of me, so this time, I’m telling my side of the Amy Chow story. Sorry, Amy, but you pushed me to it.”
Dyke Andreea Joyce interviews Rebecca once again
But this one interview special, take my word for it
After writing that story about how I’m committed to making Rebecca Bross my favorite current American gymnast and watching the interview I threw in at the end, I went and watched a whole bunch of other Rebecca interviews. With every one I watched, I sensed something was wrong – or maybe not “wrong,” but just unusual.
By the fourth interview, I had figured out what it was: I have NEVER heard her say “like,” or “I mean . . .” or “I was all . . .” or “you know.” She is a fierce speaker who talks in an assertive but never conceited voice. She talks like she’s a damn 40-year-old, not like she’s a teen member of Generation Cell Phone.
So now not only is she my favorite current American gymnast, she’s my favorite gymnast interview – possibly of them all. (Except for Dobre., who will be my favorite interview until the earth collides with the sun.)
There’s one Rebecca interview I watched that I thought was important enough to make a whole story about, so that’s what I’m doing here, since for some unknown-to-God reason I am on some kind of kick to write about Americans and not about Aimee and beer and lesbian tendencies (although I touched on that on the last Rebecca story).
A slight diversion to gain understanding and to vent
Now, before we get to the interview, I need somebody to explain something to me. The interview we’re going to watch here is titled: Rebecca Bross Interview – 2010 Visa Championships. As most of you know, I don’t watch TV ever, so I’ve never seen a full telecast of a competition, just the multi-part comps on YouTube. Does that title mean that it’s the U.S. Nationals? only now they’re calling them Visa, after a fucking credit card?
It seems I remember that this is the case. How goddamn pathetic, that such an important event is now named after a money-grubbing corporation. Next thing you know, the Olympic Games will be called the fucking Papa Gino’s Olympic Games.
But it’s the same with the names they give sports arenas today, and the names they give college football bowl games.
Used to be, in Los Angeles, there was the Fabulous Forum. Good name. The Lakers played there, and the Kings hockey team, and they had car shows and flower shows and all that other shit. Now, in L.A. we have the Staples Center – an arena named after an office supply store.
Bowl games? Let’s see, there’s the fucking Famous Idaho Potato Bowl (I am not making these up, and here’s the page I got them from to prove it), and the Beef ‘O’ Brady’s Bowl, and the Little Caesars Bowl, and the Franklin American Mortgage Music City Bowl. What the fuck is all that shit?
There was a time when we had the Rose Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, the Sugar Bowl, the fucking Orange Bowl, normal shit like that – not the goddamn Jim’s A-1 Plumbing Bowl.
What the hell was I talking about here? Right – the Visa Championships. Now I’m going to have to scroll up, because I can’t remember what I was talking about the Visa Championships in regard to.
Rebecca’s interview at the credit card meet
Once again, Rebecca is being interviewed by Andrea Joyce, who is a bull dyke, no matter what you say. As usual, Rebecca gives a strong and clear and well-thought-out interview, which is all fine and worth watching, but notice A-Suk loitering on the edge of the podium behind her.
At :13, the house announcer says something that wakes Alicia up out of her daydream about being a respected and useful gymnast in order to clap, but it didn’t wake her up enough to put any effort into clapping, same as she put no effort into her performances in Beijing and thereby single-handedly cost America who knows how many medals, even though the Chinese were all underage and probably couldn’t have been beaten even if Alicia did know how to do gymnastics.
(That is one of the longest sentences I’ve ever written on this site!)
At :30, Andrea’s rambling on and, out of camera range, her penis must have touched Rebecca in . . . some place, and look at the reaction on Rebecca’s face! (This is why I have no problem with lesbian gymnasts, but lesbian interviewers can create all kinds of problems.)
All the while, Sacramone stares blankly around the arena as if she’s looking for her ride. And at :47 she finds him, and plays with him, saying, “You got the rum, I got the mask, ha ha ha ha.”
Okay, let’s see . . . at 1:02, the house announcer says something that Alicia feels is worthy of proper applause, just as Andrea “Chaz Bono” Joyce is asking Rebecca about the Suk-y one, to which Rebecca replies, “I’m very happy for her, and I’m glad she’s starting again. She did great today, and I hope she does good on Saturday.”
God, I love Rebecca’s voice and the fact that she speaks just normal English words without any slang. And it’s all good, and should have stayed good, but good old Al Trautwig’s voice comes on, after Chaz turns it over to him.
“What a focused young woman,” Al says. “You can almost hear Carly [Patterson] and Nastia [Liukin] whispering in her ear.”
Well, I’ll give Nasty credit for being focused – on the level of Gene Simmons, but still – but Carly Patterson? Focused? Carly Patterson was about as focused as a muskrat crossing the freeway. No – Rebecca is FOCUSED, and she is without question the best gymnast interview I’ve ever seen (aside from Dobre), no matter when she’s being interviewed and whether or not a carpet-muncher is holding the microphone.
That went pretty good. I swear to God, I never thought I would be able to write like this about Rebecca Bross, but I’m beginning to like her more with everything I see from her – but especially her interviews and her awesome voice and lack of teen slang.
Now I MUST go and take a shower, because I’m filthy. We’re back in Malibu after Friday, Saturday and part of today in Oceanside, where I don’t think I even bathed. (I didn’t pee out a window, either, so credit me for that.) But I’m really trying to stop talking so much about my personal life, so I don’t relay my bath schedule to you guys like I would have once upon a time.
I’m making a commitment to liking her
(Not in a lez way)
I’ve been straddling the fence on Rebecca Bross for so long, if it was a literal fence, I’d probably have drenched it by now (assuming it would have the same effect as the corner of a table). A little while ago today, as I searched for news of how she’s doing after her injury at the 2011 U.S. Nationals last summer, I found an article on American-Gymnast.com that included performances on bars and beam in February 2012.
You should go read that A-G article, because it’s informative and written from a nice perspective. I’ve pasted Rebecca’s two routines here.
After writing about Shannon Miller earlier, I went out and helped my mom and Aimee prune the rose bushes. As I dropped prunings into the trash can, I started thinking about how few American gymnasts I really like. Shannon, of course, and Moceanu in 1995 and 1996 . . . Amanda Borden – but mainly because I think she’s sexy . . . um . . . well, I like Jaycie Phelps okay, but it’s nothing that’s going to keep me up at night.
Before the Magnificent Seven, I guess I kind of like Chelle Stack, but that’s about it from her era. Zmeskal I used to like but am now indifferent toward.
Then once the 2000 quad opened, I really fell off the Americans. Recycled Dawes and Chow weren’t going to cut it. Nobody on the Sydney team interested me. Then in Athens, I was okay with Terin Humphrey because I really love her satanic-looking eyes. After that, nothing.
But Rebecca has been in my brain, in one way or the other, since last summer. Before I wrote about her injury, I didn’t know much about her other than that she existed. Then, less than a week ago, I criticized her for having the worst floor routine I’ve ever seen.
My commitment to USA gymnastics
I stand by that analysis, and still she sticks in my head. So I’ve decided to try to make her my favorite current American gymnast and really begin hoping she recovers well enough to make it to London, even if only on an event or two. (Preferably not floor.)
Like I said in the story about her knee, I like her body a lot – and not just in a lez way (even though I’m not a lez, anyway). I like how her body looks for gymnastics. She has “breasts,” but not knockers. She’s tight, compact and strong. I would LOVE to see what she looks like with no clothes on – i.e., see her muscle definition . . . okay, and since she was already naked, I would go over the whole body, but just out of curiosity.
Unless she was here with me, and somewhat drunk. Who knows what could happen then?
Okay, I’m getting silly, and I am already drinking too much and Aimee is pestering me to play guitars with her, so I’ll do that and then come back here and look this over and post it. Here are her two routines from last month.
Rebecca on beam. My favorite mount of all time. Somebody help me – wasn’t this mount in a compulsory beam exercise at one time? Which one? I can’t remember.
An interview with Rebecca and Alexandra Raisman from the same comp. as the beam routine above. (If Andrea Joyce isn’t a bull dyke, I’m Clark fucking Kent.)
Dom’s came first and looks like Elena Mukhina
Oana pays tribute to her 2004 team with hers
I wrote about Oana Ban’s bobblehead doll in May of last year, right after we killed Osama bin Laden, and I knew from writing that story that Moceanu had a bobblehead of her own, but I guess I spaced it.
Lithi (screen name) reminded me about Moceanu’s doll, so I went over to her website, where she mentions it on her Profile page, in a list of “Recent” Highlights that dates back to 2004.
That list, which spans from January 2004 to June of this year (i.e., three months in the future, which means FUTURE, Dom, not recent), includes a total of 12 highlights. That’s an average of two highlights per year. I have more than two highlights in a given week, especially if I’m in Oceanside, like I am right now.
“The first child”
I love her December 2007 highlight: “Dominique gives birth to the first child, daughter Carmen Noel on Christmas Day.” There’s something wrong with that phrasing, “the first child.” Something grandiose about it, which makes sense, considering it has to do with Dominique.
Imagine you meet some old friends, and throughout the year in which you haven’t seen them, you’ve had a baby. They ask, “So what did you do this year?” and you say, “I gave birth to the first child.”
Okay, what I was getting to before I got sidetracked with the first child was a January 2004 highlight on her list: “Dominique releases a personalized bobblehead doll, a first for the gymnastics world.”
Just so you know, Dominique did not write her website, because aside from a glitch here and there, the English style and usage is pretty good. But she did INSTRUCT the writer on what to write, and the “a first for the gymnastics world” has Dom written all over it.
The problem with Dom’s doll is, it looks like Elena Mukhina, not Dominique. In a figurative sense, however, they did get the head/body proportion about right. Around the base, although she’s in her Atlanta leotard with the gold medal she was at best one-seventh responsible for, we see only her name: Dominique Moceanu.
I can’t find anything online about this doll, but since it’s not plastered all over her website, I’m guessing it’s not selling like hotcakes, because if it was, Dom would have a separate website just for it.
At least Oana’s doll kind of looks like her
Oana’s doll probably isn’t selling, either, but at least Romanian-Gymnastics.com has a little story about it. And at least it looks somewhat like Oana. And at least around the base it says, “Oana Ban, 2004 Olympic Gold Medalist,” which pays tribute to her team, because that’s the only gold medal Oana ever won.
This was a girl who was in hysterical tears of joy when the Romanians were announced as gold-medal winners in the Athens Olympics Team competition. You can watch that here, preceded by Daniela Sofronie, Oana, and Catalina Ponor, the last three on the floor in the final rotation, with one mission: go out there, don’t screw up, and bring home the gold medal where it belongs.
It’s all very exciting, especially since the footage is occasionally cut with shots of the sour Americans, including that Patterson girl, stuck on their bench, trying to figure out where the hell it all went.
Contrast Oana’s joy for winning the biggest medal in Romanian gymnastics (Team, as opposed to All-Around) with Dom on the medal stand in Atlanta. She lined up in the wrong place and acted like a bitch to Shannon when Shannon told her to get her ass down on the end where she belonged.
You can read a narrative of that debacle here. It’s about half-way down in the story.
The photo that Oana’s doll was modeled from was when she was at the 2003 World Championships, where she won a silver Team medal and a silver medal on Beam. Dom’s doll was modeled from when she was on a bed in the Cayman Islands, arms outstretched, but legs still closed. (This was probably just the first night.)
Based on what is said on Romanian-Gymnastics.com, Oana’s doll was released in 2006, i.e., two years after Moceanu’s.
An article about the Elena Mukhina Foundation, which I had never heard of.
Illiterate Moceanu is a Twitter aficionada
I’ll take her seriously as soon as she can spell that word
Okay, I admit it: I don’t have a Twitter account and never will. I don’t have a Facebook account, either, and never will. I never had a MySpace page. I did have a YouTube account, but Google fucked that all up because I have gmail, and when Google bought YouTube, I was fucked.
But I know a lot of YOU guys have Twitter accounts – for reasons I’ll never understand. So come along with me as I visit Moron Moceanu’s Twitter page (or site, or account, or whatever the fuck you call it). Maybe we can learn something together.
From the best I can tell, the point of Twitter is to give you an arena to write pointless, mundane bullshit about your life in quick, mis-spelled, mis-handled sentences, and let all your “friends” (or whatever you call other Twitter people with nothing to do) read it and tweet back or like you or befriend you or whatever the fuck.
Well, Twitter is perfect for Moceanu, who has never had anything of value to say in the first place, except for the time she raised her hand in the gym at 10 years old and said, “Marta, I just peed in my leotard.”
That was the last useful thing I ever heard come out of her mouth. Which isn’t to say there haven’t been other useful things to come out of her mouth – I just never heard them.
So, diverting now from my subject, as usual, I’ll present a BRAND NEW Top 10 List.
Top 10 Useful Things to Come Out Of Dominique Moceanu’s Mouth Between the Ages of 13 and 23.
10. Glurrp, gurgle, frtttp, flappsh . . . (Spits the semen into a wastebasket.)
9. There is no way that fucker’s gonna fit. What do you think I am – Amanda Borden?
8. If you hit me again, I’m gonna tell Bela . . . no wait, that won’t work.
7. Damnit, Christina, why do you keep throwing up in my tub!
6. And finally, God, please bless all my teammates and my coaches and . . . wait – hang on, oh, shit, the pillow’s going to work – sorry, I’ll finish this tomor . . .
5. When I think about all the stuff I could teach Shannon, it just makes me sick!
4. I hope you cut this wine with some Hi-C, cause I really don’t want to pass out in the elevator again.
3. That’s not a skid mark – it’s called power!
2. Are we about done? Because I’d like to get untied and have a drink of water.
1. All the boys like me, I’m hot, I’m sexy, I’m the best gymnast on this team, I’ll make America proud, we’re going to win . . . ooops! (Atlanta beam EF’s.)
Dominique’s Twitter page gives the following description of her – none of which relates to anything in that Top 10 list:
Mommy, Wife, Sister, Olympic Champion, Gymnastics Coach, Mentor, Author, Entrepreneur. Yes, this is the real Dominique Moceanu!
Let’s look at each one.
Mommy: Proven, because she spawned at least two kids that we know of.
Wife: Proven, because she spawned one Mike.
Sister: Proven, because she put up with a bratty little sister.
Olympic Champion: Proven, because Shannon, Dawes and Kerri carried her ass.
Gymnastics Coach: Not proven, but there’s still plenty of time, based on how fast the knockers are growing.
Mentor: To whom? The pool boy?
Author: No, the “author” is the person who writes the book, not the person the book is about.
Entrepreneur: Fifteen minutes of fame has turned into a 15-year career of being famous for being famous, so I guess this one’s correct enough.
Phan VIE-2nd VT–Yurchenko double twist and landed really high with her chest! Love to see that. 5.8/14.6 AVG. 14.666
Who cares? Why would anybody spend the clock time to write this in a public forum?
6.5/15.8 on Maroney’s first VT
Maybe Dom’s the only person on the planet watching whatever comp it is she’s watching, so she has to keep a running tab of the scores so no one will miss out.
Tanaka in 5th 6.8/15.166
I hope she’s not commenting on fucking horse racing now.
Ferrari scratched too..Chelaru ROM in!
Hell – maybe it is horse racing – assuming some horse from Romania is named Chelaru.
1.5 to 2.5 split jump, double pike ting shuffle with legs—Cutie out there. Love it.
Again – Dom is typing this crap as fast as her fat little fingers will fly, and people out there are actually reading it.
I’m now thinking Moceanu is running her own horse racing racket, with Dr. Canales as the money-launderer.
Where’s a gun?
Heading to the gym. Ready to work on my fitness.
And your fans surely wait with baited breath to find out if your “fitness” involves reducing the size of your knockers.
Time for Carmen and Vincent to visit Santa. Have you been naughty or nice?
Have you been ugly or fat?
ha ha! I’m sure your dad loved the cake! Glad to hear you and you’re family are well.
Remember when people used to call on the phone to share thoughts like this? But the phone and actual voice-to-voice contact is too much trouble for a busy girl like Dom and her idiot friends.
OMG!!!!!!!!!! Wait – I’m a twit in Florida, so who gives a fuck?
Showing Carmen & Vincent how beautiful ballet is.
Good idea. But you might want to hold off on showing them how beautiful gymnastics is until you get some Omelianchik videos.
(From another twit)
I cried when my sister gave me your first book as a gift. Thought I`d never have it cause I’m from southamerica”
We all cried – after we read it.
As an advocate for athletes, I’m a proud supporter of Safe4Athletes.They’re working hard to protect our athletes.
There’s some news that should kick the house fire that killed the entire family off the front page.
I just can’t do any more. Reading the moronic ramblings of a fat ex-gymnast has taken its toll on me. But I hope I made a point in showing that Dominique is living in a world of her own making up in Cleveland, while the rest of the Mag 7 are struggling to get by in the real world. (Except Kerri.)
Obviously a recent study –
Not one conducted when fat Raducan and Maria Olaru ballooned into tanks
In November, 2011, Romania-Inider.com wrote about a Eurostat study that determined that Romanians are the slimmest among all the European Union nations. Since not all Romanians are female gymnasts, I found that pretty interesting.
“Obesity” is defined as a Body Mass Index (BMI) over 30. You can learn what BMI is here and measure your own. In Romania, the study found that only 8 percent of women and 7.6 percent of men were obese. Compare to the United Kingdom, with 23.9 percent of women and 22.1 percent of men classified as obese.
Another interesting finding in the study was that in the 18-24 age bracket, 16.6 percent of U.K. young women are obese, while in the same bracket in Romania, just 1.6 percent are.
How Andreea and Maria could have tipped the scales
One-point-six percent. That’s a damn low number. Good thing that study wasn’t done about nine years ago and totaled up the total weight of the Romanian population and divided by the number of test subjects, because fat Raducan and Maria Olaru would have totally skewed the results.
(I’ve written about this before, but I’m going to go with a different angle so no one can accuse me of trying to get extra mileage out of a story that didn’t go over all that well to begin with.)
After the 2000 Olympics’ All-Around champion and the same Olympics’ bronze medalist retired, they gained some weight. Okay, they got fat. There USED TO BE an active video of the two of them in the story linked above, but the user on YouTube removed it. But you can read about the video within the story.
I managed to find one more video of these two, one filmed when they were shopping in Penang, Malaysia in 2003. They didn’t appear to be as hefty in Penang as they were when they were trying to figure out how to knock a cannon off it’s underpinnings, but they were still pretty big, especially Maria.
But take my word for it, in the video that no longer exists, they were fat. How fat???
Andreea was so fat, Bitang took a picture of her at Christmas 2003, and it’s still printing!
(Off we go!)
Maria was so fat, Romania gave her her own zip code!
Andreea was so fat, every time her beeper went off, people thought she was backing up!
Maria was so fat, one time she was standing alone on a street corner and a cop came over and said, “Okay, break it up, break it up!”
They were fat, I tell you!
Andreea was so fat, her cereal bowl came with it’s own lifeguard!
Maria was so fat, she found out Just My Size is nowhere near her size!
Andreea was so fat, she made extra money at the beach in Constanta selling shade!
Maria was so fat, one time she was drinking with a friend in a pub and she said to her friend, “Your round,” and the friend said, “So are you, you fat pig!”
I’m not kidding – these two were FAT!
Andreea was so fat, when she wore high heels, she struck oil!
Maria was so fat, when she went into restaurants and they gave her the menu, she just said, “Okay!”
Andreea was so fat, two guys could make love to her at the same time and not even meet each other!
(I told you this would be a different angle!)
Maria was so fat, she walked in front of the TV set and her mother missed three commercials!
Andreea was so fat, she told her boyfriend, “Let’s go to the zoo,” and he said, “If they want you, they’ll come get you!”
Maria was so fat, her measurements were 36-24-36. Her other arm was a little bigger.
(Yeah, Sarah’s on a roll, and you can’t blame alcohol, even though I’m drunk!)
Andreea was so fat, she could lie down and stand up and her height didn’t change!
Maria was so fat, when she got her shoes shined, she had to take the guy’s word for it!
Andreea was so fat, when she jogged, she made the CD player skip . . . at the radio station!
And finally . . .
Maria was so fat, she stood outside in a snow storm and four Swedes with pickaxes tried to climb her!
And that’s how fat they were . . . . . . . .
Okay, that’s enough making fun of two of the best gymnasts to ever put on a leotard – even if they did have to use a shoehorn to get into them!
Anyway, the point is, Romanian people are taking care of themselves, and U.K. people are not. But here’s something even worse than all the fat-asses in Britain: In the United States, my own wonderful fat country, the Eurostat study found 26.8 percent of women and 27.6 percent of men are obese! Jesus Christ, God help us. Of course, everybody wants me to become obese because they think it’ll help me, but I’m not going to do it.
Right at this moment (I just went in the bathroom to pee and I weighed) I weigh EIGHTY-SEVEN POUNDS! Oh, my God – and then I went to the site to calculate my BMI, and it said
Then I realized I mis-typed and somehow hit a 6 after the 7, making it 876 pounds, the combined weight of fat Raducan and Maria Olaru after they retired. I fixed it, thank God, and found out my BMI is 17.0. Not good, but at least a HELL of a lot better than all the fat people I have to look at every day.
Pray for me that I won’t become one of them.
Deluxe (screen name) sent a video of fat Raducan in the comments section – I had seen that video before, but forgot about it. I’ll post that here along with three great photos of Andreea and Maria after they got their bodies back into normal shape. Thanks, Deluxe!
Too bad her leotards should be on Mr. Blackwell’s list
Plus: Two new problems to fix before London
Since I made fun of Alicia Sacramone in that last story, I thought it was only fair to make fun of Shawn Johnson in this one. So I went and found an arbitrary routine of hers from this weekend’s U.S. Nationals, and I watched it closely.
It was the beam, and she did a pretty damn good job, considering the un-artistic leanings of the Code of Points and the trend in women’s gymnastics for the girls to look like ball-eating warriors instead of females.
Here’s Shawn on beam.
Since Shawn rose to fame as a celebrity back in Beijing three years ago, a few changes have taken place in her life. The most obvious is that she grew knockers, so now she looks like a short, pudgy woman instead of a short, pudgy gymnast.
Hopefully she can do something about these two problems before London.
She has always been stocky and short, but now she’s stocky, short, knocker-laden and has lost any fashion sense she may previously have had.
Take a look at that costume she has on in the video! Have you ever seen anything so repulsive? Who suggested it? Who’s idea was it to put her in something like that? And if you think that’s bad, check out the photo of another costume she wore at Nationals (on the right).
Pretty soon, gymnastics is going to be as bad as figure skating. Every leotard will be designed not for functionality but to draw attention to a gymnast for things other than her skills as an athlete.
In another photo (below right), you see she’s got “SJ” scripted on the right arm of her black-and-tan costume. Jesus Christ. This is the type of shit the rock band KISS would do. That “SJ” was the final straw to prove to me Shawn is just another brick in the wall, just another nothing who accidentally got good enough at gymnastics to compete internationally.
When you look into her dimwitted eyes, you see a girl who has no fucking clue who or what she is. She’s simply a product of the media, a living being programmed to be this way or that way, depending on the current whims of her peer group – which is every girl in America within three years of her.
Fashion critic Mr. Blackwell every year published his worst-dressed picks among celebrity celebrities. (I think he’s dead now – don’t really know, don’t really care.) But his fashion industry descendants should publish a specific worst-dressed gymnastics list for the ugliest leotards in the industry.
Shawn would definitely have topped Blackwell’s list at the 2011 Nationals, and bean-pole celebrity Nasty Liukin would have been a contender for second place, in her signature Pepto-Bismol monstrosity, which she hopefully has washed since Beijing.
I didn’t even know Nasty was at these Nationals. I guess they’re letting anybody in there these days. But I won’t write anything about her performance in this competition. Just covering A-Suk and Shawn has been more than enough for me.
Now I’m going to go and try to focus on something a lot more important than American gymnasts, i.e., ME.
She’s up in Cleveland, embarrassing herself again – what else?
Plus: What to do about yeast infections
One thing you can say about Dominique Moceanu is, there’s no predicting what she’ll do next. The only thing you can predict is that it’ll probably have very little to do with the sport that gave her a name that allowed her to be unpredictable in the first place.
As most of you know, Marta Karolyi hit Dom in the head with a phone, then Dom found better coaches and her career fizzled, then she moved up to Cleveland and married a doctor named Mike. (She lost her virginity in the Cayman Islands before moving to Cleveland, FYI.)
Based on all of her blatant self-promotion on her numerous online homes, it’s difficult to say what Dominique is trying to accomplish with herself. She and Mike did that silly Lady Gaga video in March 2010, which basically was soft-core porn, which is fine with me, because what else is somebody like Dominique, a woman pushing 30 with two babies, going to do?
The queen of gymnastics
If you listen to Dom, she single-handedly re-directed the course of gymnastics by winning a team gold medal in Atlanta. She got fame and fortune by being the smallest, cutest, most pedophile-inciting member of the 1996 U.S. gymnastics team.
But the world became too big for such a little girl. Not long after Atlanta, even though Dom didn’t realize it, the world forgot about her and turned its attention to Vanessa Atler trying to hang on to the bars and Shannon Miller’s vain attempts to recapture the glory she had and deserved when she was a 68-pound rubber band in Barcelona.
That’s when Dom flew to the Cayman Islands to give up the only thing she had left. After that, it was downhill pretty fast.
Then she got the bright idea to get married and move to a little pond, where she had a chance to become the Big Fish. I don’t know if the marriage happened first or the move, but either way, she’s up in Cleveland now and it appears she’s trying to take over.
That was a very wordy introduction to get to the point here, which is three videos. Bri (screen name) sent me the first, and Deluxe (screen name) sent me the second and third. Let’s watch all the videos, and I’ll try to find something intelligent to say about them.
Dining in Cleveland
Dominique and Mike walk into a restaurant complaining of starvation. Dominique looks about as close to starvation as a brontosaurs. They’re a damn odd couple, Dom and Mike, but there’s something quirky about them that I like in spite of my better judgment.
I think what I like is their goofiness. Any couple who would do something like this has got a lot of guts. Plus as fat as Moceanu is, you’d think the LAST thing she’d want to do is portray herself being a pig at a dinner table.
Look at all the damn food those two are supposedly going to eat! And look at Mike tear into that disgusting whatever-it-is sandwich. I have to admit, I had a sexual thought when he did that, and I have to admit when he pulled that whatever-it-is sandwich away from his mouth and he had that big smear of white stuff on his face, well, it wasn’t pleasant on this end. So I went and talked to my mom about it.
ME: I want you to tell me the truth about something. What is Monistat 7 used for?
MOM: Monistat 7?
MOM: It’s for a yeast infection.
ME: Okay. So is it possible . . . like, does a yeast infection leave a white residue? Like a discharge or something?
MOM: Do you have a yeast infection?
ME: Oh, my God!
MOM: Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?
ME: I’m writing a story about Dominique Moceanu and her husband, Mike, and they’re at this restaurant and he bit into this big disgusting sandwich and he got something white all over his mouth.
(Mom just stares at me.)
ME: I just wanted to know if you can get white stuff all over your mouth from a yeast infection.
(Mom still just stares at me, because I’m 19 now and should know better.)
ME: Fine. I just asked a question. (Walking back to my room.) Whatever you make me to eat tonight, I don’t want any mayonnaise on it!
Then after Dom says another memorized line, we see Mike shoveling food into his mouth like it’s his last meal. At home he probably has to eat quick before it disappears. Interestingly, the only thing we SEE Dom eating is a damn french fry. Maybe she’s seen the tale of the tape and is finally on a much-needed diet.
PRODUCER: Mike’s going to eat everything in sight, Dominique. You need to do the same.
DOM: But I’m already fat with knockers that didn’t go down that much after the second baby!
PRODUCER: You can’t eat just a french fry! This is a commercial to make people want to go out to eat in Cleveland.
DOM: I’m not eating all that shit! I have a reputation as a world-class former gymnast to maintain!
PRODUCER: Gymnast? I thought you were that girl on Full House.
Shopping in Cleveland
The inappropriate song “Pretty Woman” opens this next little ditty, where Dom and Mike are trying to induce people to go shopping in Cleveland. Only this time, they’re doing some more role-playing, like they did in their soft-core-porn Lady Gaga video.
Mike is pretending to be a suave salesperson in a clothing store, and Dom is pretending she’s a normal person. She’s got on a SHORT sparkly silver mini-skirt and fuck-me heels, and with her oversized knockers and tree-trunk thighs, she looks like a man in drag.
Well, Dom prances around like she’s 18, even though she looks 38, and salesperson Mike brings her all this stuff to try on. I sooooooo wish they would have shot some footage of him helping her into the clothes in the dressing room, because you know how that went down.
MIKE: (Grunting and struggling to pull a normal-size blouse down over Dom’s head and knockers.) Try to suck in a little more, honey.
DOM: (Nearly suffocating.) I’m trying, but this is as far as I can suck.
DOM: What happened?
MIKE: I think I pulled a muscle. Maybe if you . . .
DOM: Goddamnit, Mike, I can’t fucking breathe!
MIKE: Stop yelling – everybody can hear you out there!
DOM: (Screaming.) I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!
MIKE: (Pulls the blouse off of Dom.) I guess there’s no point in trying to get you into those pants, either.
DOM: (Looks at a size 8 pair of jeans.) No, we probably ought to stick with the loose stuff.
MIKE: Yeah, that’s what we’ve been doing for years. Or at least what I’ve been doing for years.
DOM: You wanted those babies – don’t fucking start.
I love the part where Dom (in the role of a sexual dominant) is walking left to right across the stage, and Mike is running after her with a dress. Then another Dom pops up and pretends to be a lioness, scratching at the air and making a little sexy growling sound.
Next thing you know, here’s Mike, looking like a goddamn Wheel of Fortune contestant, and he holds up a sign that says “9.8.”
No matter how much sexual innuendo they put into this thing, I’m pretty sure that “9.8” refers to a score, not a size. (Although if it was a size, it would explain a lot of things.)
A little more flirting and prancing, and now Mike has grown – I mean the score has grown to “9.9.” Then he gives her a “I Love 216” T-shirt, and he tops out at “10.”
I said the numbers are scores, but with the way these two feed their personal sex life into so much of their material, there’s no way to know for sure.
The toughest gymnast
This time, Dom and Mike go to a gym for a “friendly marital wager” to see who’s the toughest gymnast. Since Produnova, Shushunova and Amanar don’t show up anywhere in this video, it’s obviously going to be just husband and wife.
There’s little doubt in anybody’s mind that if it came down to it, Dominique could kick Mike’s ass. Mike might make most of the money and be the “professional” of the family with a legitimate career and a valid reason to go on living, but it’s easy to see in Dom’s man-like body that she’s definitely the superior physical specimen.
With the song “Eye of the Tiger” playing in the background, the questionable couple warm up for their contest. Dom does a double-biceps pose, furthering my “looks like a man in drag” theory, Mike does a back flip, then Dom does a back flip and it looks like the floor as well as her knee sockets are about to give way.
Then Dom performs a back flip on a beam and performs it quite well for a woman of her age and size. Then Mike does the same maneuver. I have to say that’s pretty impressive for someone who has to sleep with Dominique and eat as fast as he does in order to get his share.
“Okay, Moceanu,” Mike says, “but I bet I can mop the floor with you on these rings.” (Hope there’s no yeast infection on the rings, or they might be mopping all the live-long day!)
Mike manages a couple of seconds of whatever that move is when your arms are out to the side and you’re praying your chest doesn’t rip in half. Dom follows, and she looks really great – until we see that she’s standing on Mike.
This is very symbolic in two ways. One, it alludes to how, even though Dominique thinks she’s the cause of all this rising to the top of Cleveland society, it’s really Mike who’s the cause of it. She’s just standing on him for the ride.
Second, there are clear sexual overtones: Woman on top. Man oppressed. Woman dominator. Man beneath her. And man smiling and loving every minute of it.
Okay, finally, Dom tells the camera, “I think I’m gonna have to close the deal here.” I was hoping we were finally going to see where the yeast infection came from, but no, it’s just Dominique performing a version of the beam mount made famous by Silivas and Dobre.
And it’s not too bad. She’s a little lopsided, a little off-balance here and there, but like with her back flips earlier, it’s impressive that a woman that old and large can still do that level of gymnastics.
But wait! What’s this? Mike does the same beam mount! He’s all over the place, too, but if I was Elfi Schlegel or some other bona fide expert on the sport of gymnastics, I would give Mike a slightly higher score.
At the end, the two are sitting facing one another. Dom says, “I’m impressed. Let’s call it a draw.” Mike says, “Yeah, maybe we should leave the competition to the athletes on the floor.”
I don’t know if I’d go that far. Mike is probably almost as good at women’s gymnastics as Paul Hunt was back in the day. And Dom is definitely fit enough to join the Seniors Circuit.
If you watch that Paul Hunt video on the pink link above, you’ll notice two things. 1. Paul is a really good female gymnast, and 2. He might actually be better on beam than Dominique ever was, including back in 1996 when she single-handedly altered the course of gymnastics history by winning a medal.
But you’ll notice that Paul never took his fame and fortune to Cleveland and started doing commercials about eating and shopping there. That’s something only Dom could concoct. Single-handedly.
Jack the Riper had London all in a panic in 1888
Would he be as successful in 2012?
A serial killer dubbed “Jack the Ripper” slit the throats and mutilated the abdomens of at least five London prostitutes in 1888. He removed internal organs from several of the victims. London was freaked out, to say the least.
So, naturally, as our U.S. gymnastics team prepares to descend on London next summer and lose everything in sight, I got to wondering if Jack would have the same luck should he be alive in 2012 and . . . stumble upon a few of our girls.
Of The Three Stooges, it appears that only dimwit Shawn has a chance to end up in London. But I thought it would be funnier for Jack (and the rest of us) if Shawn was joined by Nasty and A-Suk – so don’t write me and tell me Nasty and A-Suk aren’t going to London. I realize this, but this is fiction. Unfortunately.
The best way to learn about Jack
Unless you want to read a bunch of gory and often boring stuff on Wikipedia, the best way to learn about Jack the Ripper is with the Judas Priest song called “The Ripper.”
The lyrics start off with:
“You’re in for a surprise, you’re in for a shock
In Londontown streets, where there’s darkness and fog
When you least expect me and you turn your back
Yeah, that might have worked for Jack back in 1888, but I can just see him trying something like that in 2012.
SCENE: A dark, foggy night in London. A short, fat girl is walking alone down the cobblestone street. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jack appears.
A-SUK: Huh? (Turns toward him.)
JACK: (Screams.) Oh, sorry. I thought you were a man for a minute there.
A-SUK: I know. Plus I’m fat.
JACK: No shit. Are you a prostitute? Because that’s all I kill.
A-SUK: No, I’m a Methodist.
JACK: But I kill morons, sometimes.
A-SUK: Yeah, but can’t we, like, go get something to eat first? I am sooooo starving after podium training.
JACK: Podium training?
A-SUK: Yeah. That’s where you have to train on a podium.
JACK: What the hell’s a podium? No, no, never mind. What’s your name?
A-SUK: Alicia. But Sarah calls me A-Suk.
JACK: (Chuckles.) Why does she call you that?
A-SUK: (Screaming and causing a few nightingales to take flight from the roof of the morgue across the street.) Cause I suck!
JACK: You sure have a big mouth!
A-SUK: And knockers the size of motorcycle helmets. According to Sarah.
JACK: Who’s this Sarah?
A-SUK: Don’t you read Elite Gymnastics Stars?
A-SUK: Oh. I just assumed everybody read it. Based on how everybody laughs at me everywhere I go, I figured the whole world knew about it.
Jack can take no more and retreats into the shadows to await his next potential victim.
Twenty minutes later, he jumps out into the fog, into the path of an even shorter and fatter girl.
SHAWN: No, it’s Ortega Taco Sauce!
JACK: What the fuck?
SHAWN: My tacos? The best!
JACK: Uh . . .
SHAWN: Ortega makes my taco pop. Or boys do. Or something like that.
JACK: Okay. You’re almost as stupid as that A-Suk girl I met a few minutes ago . . .
SHAWN: Oh, my God – I’m way stupider than her! But since I have you here, I want to ask you a question.
JACK: Yeah, but first I have a question for you. Are you a prostitute?
SHAWN: You probably should talk to my agent, but I’m pretty sure I’m not.
JACK: Shit, that means I can’t kill you, either.
SHAWN: Who cares! Listen: did you ever see that show Dancing with the Stars?
JACK: Show? Like vaudeville?
JACK: (Yells.) I said like vaudeville?
SHAWN: I don’t know. Mainly it’s like dancing. See, what everybody’s saying is, supposedly I gave Mark an erection on national TV. Personally I don’t think I had anything to do with it. I just wondered if you saw the show.
JACK: What’s TV?
SHAWN: I don’t know. Wait – is that a trick question?
Jack gives up and retreats back into the shadows to wait for another potential victim.
Twenty minutes later, he spots another girl, this one somewhat willowy and ugly to the point of deformation, and jumps out in front of her, his knife raised.
NASTY: Oh, I wasn’t going to. I have to save my vocal chords for my new big-time singing career that’ll start up right after the Olympics, assuming my agent can get the contracts worked out by then and my PR people can deal with a few delicate issues with GK, which could hold up any major career moves for . . . God, possibly six months.
NASTY: Do you want me to repeat it?
JACK: No, please. Now, shut up and listen. I’m Jack The Ripper, and–
NASTY: Wow, cool! Is that like a new reality show?
JACK: No, idiot. I’m a serial killer who kills prostitutes!
NASTY: Did you meet Alicia?
JACK: She said she’s not a prostitute.
NASTY: Oh, that liar!
JACK: There used to be prostitutes all over these streets.
NASTY: If you want prostitutes, wait about a half hour, when the Russians finish with podium training. You can have your pick.
JACK: Russian prostitutes? In London?
NASTY: Sure. They go all over.
JACK: It’s getting late. I won’t kill you, but how about we go find a motel room and fool around for awhile?
NASTY: You mean like sex?
NASTY: My dad wouldn’t like it.
JACK: Who gives a shit?
NASTY: No, it would just complicate matters. Jealousy, you know. Family secrets, all that.
Jack gives up and retreats back into the shadows to wait for the Russian prostitutes.
So it looks like Jack didn’t score on that night, which is about what the U.S. team will do on all the nights they compete.
Okay, this wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever done, but my brain’s still foggy. I hope you got at least a laugh or two.