No, no, no, no, no and NO. NO. I can’t. It’s just…wow. So allow me to preface before I get to the meat of this story, I am not a big Olympic watcher for games past. I know, how very un-American. However, after being chastised repeatedly by people for choosing Friends reruns over past opening ceremonies, I dedicated myself to watching every last event London had to offer. I’ve watched boxing, I caught the kayaking prelims, I was out of my seat for volleyball matches, I have almost thrown my laptop when seeing spoilers. It’s been ah-mazing.
Of course, everyone is always all about gymnastics and the swimming. Oh, the swimming. Sure I knew who Michael Phelps was, but who knew he had a teammate who was as easy on the eyes as Ryan Lochte? Sure, when he talks he may not sound like the sharpest tool in the shed, but oh, those baby blues! So imagine my shock/horror/dismay/sadness/insert drmatic word here when I was stalking him online and found out that he may or may not be seeing K. Michelle. Yes, that K. Michelle. Of train wreck Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta fame. That one. Gahhh!
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