We're Going for Gold!

Jack has a rooftop patio & pool at his condominium complex. A few times this summer, he has invited me to go on late night swims. I know what you're thinking, but please get your mind out of the gutter. Instead of any bow-chicka-bow-bow (you need to sing that - if you didn't please go back and re-read the italicized phrase in a sing-song manner, thanks) action going on, Jack had better ideas. For example, the other night when we went swimming, we decided to race across the pool - both running (hands out of the water to prevent cheating!), and actual swimming. I dominated of course (maybe). Anyway, after watching several weeks of Olympics, Jack then decided we ought to put together a synchronized swimming routine (no, we weren't drunk).

"Okay, I'll choreograph the first 8 beats, and then you do the second 8 beats. Ready?"

"Sure...", I reply, somewhat hesitantly.

But there he was, choreographing some moves and making sure I kept pace and had proper form (according to his expert opinion).

Then it was my turn, and might I say my 8 beats worth of movement were quite challenging (read: ugly). We practiced all 16 beats a few times over, proclaimed that we were ridiculously talented, and then decided we needed a finale, which we then choregraphed together. As Jack suggested ideas, he would say things like, "the judges will be impressed by that move!" and "sometimes simple moves are the most beautiful", and so on and so forth. And as we practiced he ordered me to reduce my splashing because "the judges don't like too much splashing!" When I burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter I was told in a very stern voice: "Look here, I have not been practicing and working my butt off for the last 4 years so that we can blow this!"

What can I say, he is a passionate man, and by golly, if we don't get a gold in 2012, I don't know who will.*
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* Perhaps someone with actual talent?