I will NOT proudly stand up

By DeJuan C3PO
Embedded Journalist

Yo, I officially sent in my papers to South America so I can become a citizen of Norway. I've got my birth certificate right here, some credit card applications and my media pass, which I assume is enough ID to make the damn switch. I can't take this shit no more. I am not an American.

Dog, I'm ashamed of the stars and stripes, which is too bad cuz I was all set to bust out this bitchin jumpsuit of the American flag for the closing ceremonies. Screw that. Did you know in Norway you can get universal haircare? Or healthcare or something, same thing. You can also ski to work, during those times of year when you aren't on vacation, which is mostly always. They don't have any brothers, but sometimes you gotta bite the bullet. Or shoot the bullet, which is how it works in Los Angeles.

Have you seen what the United Statesninnies have been doing at the Olympic Games lately? I mean Johnny Weir, who hangs on the East Side in a World of Westsiders, if you know what I'm saying. Plays for the pink team. Likes to enter the house through the backdoor. Shops well. Drives on the left side of the road (or whatever is opposite of normal in the Turismo). Bites the dragon. Rides the fleshy popsicle. Dude, you get my drift.

Anyway, Johnny Weir was a BUST in the Fagure Skating (shit, was that a typo?) and all the critics started talking about mental toughness and what not, which is wack for a sport that requires you to be all tender and elegant. Dude, Johnny Weir disappoints me bad. If you're gonna be a few curves short of straight, the least thing you can do is be gay and a gold medalist.

Then Lindsey Jacobelis tried to get extra "high" (dog, do I really need to play on words anymore? I'm getting tired) in her snowboard cross and took a major bummer of a crash, basically missing out on some surefire bling. Shit, last time I tried partying early, I popped out of the closet in my birthday suit for the fine Ms. Shawanna Douglas back on a tour stop in Anaheim, thinking I would bed the damn belle of the ball. Too bad it was Ms. Shawanna Douglas's older brother Gary, who was a fan of our show. And as it turned out, protective of his sister. Dammit, Gary Douglas.

Lindsey, the moral of the story is to not get naked before you reach the bed. Or just play it safe until you're across the line. I don't know what I'm trying to say, but I'm pretty sure it culminates with "what the fuck?"

I love the snowboard team, homies, LOVE them. They are my kind of people. They don't judge, mostly because they're stoned constantly. But I can't look myself in the mirror and say I come from a country where SIXTY percent of our medals are coming from this posse. The sober folk are not winning any bling, y'all. So I'm leaving on a jet plane.

Then there's the women's hockey team, who was supposed to dominate and such, and they get beat by Sweden. Looks like there won't be any tank-top-ripping-off like with women's soccer a few years back, which is a major, major drag. Nah, not really, cuz those chicks are out of sorts, if you know what I mean. Hideous. Ugly. Terrifying. Yeah, it's much easier when we drop the made-up expressions.

I'm changing my name to Simon Fjord C3P0 and and heading to the Norway for my new life, bitches. It's a new world for me, and I leave a fine ass legacy behind in the States. But dogs, you will overcome without me in your presence. Much love.

Dog, I just found out ain't no weed in Norway. Man, I was warming up to the name Simon Fjord.