So what can the Olympics do to bring me into the fold? After all, it’s all about me, right? Right.
Well, I’ve got two words for you Olympics:
The other word I have for you is “awesome” but I thought putting it up there would distract from the mind-blowing badassery of the word “beercathlon” and I want it noted that I made that word up and it is MINE and if you want to use it you need to ask ME because you will need to give ME money.
Actually, I better search Google before I really say that.
Not only does it return results, the first Web site is actually called Beercathlon.com. At first I’m pissed that some douchebag in the future somehow stole my idea and came back to the past and started this Web site, but I can’t be mad for long, because HOLY SHIT that jerk-off’s a genius!
I enter the Web site, and quickly find that the first official Beercathlon happened in 2005, and it’s been held annually since.
My anger rises again quickly—what the hell is the problem with the IOC? Turns out the beercathlon is not only an established event, it has a fucking governing body! Make the beercathlon an event already, IOC. We sit through the shitfest that is dressage and can’t have a little something for those of us who enjoy competitions that revolve around binge drinking?
The Beercathlon site details rules about nine games ranging from “flip the cup” to “speed beer pong,” all of them aimed at the ultimate goal of getting you as drunk as possible. In the end, the beercathlon seems perfectly suited to the Olympics: it requires strength (of stomach), endurance (whether you can drink a shitload in a short period of time) and wisdom (should I drink this?). It’s high time the IOC recognized the beercathlon for what it is: an event that offers to fuck up competitors more than Tonya Harding. Bonus: no crowbars.