xp_logs | (no subject)

Some of the guys appreciate the extreme athleticism of beach volleyball. Kyle wants to wrestle naked, oiled men.

One of the girls on the yellow bikini team went for a dive for the volleyball and Kevin's head tilted to the side, chicken halfway to his mouth. Only his jaw went slack and his eyes tracked her ass all the way to her landing on her stomach in the sand. "Kyle, Ah've mentioned you're like my favorite person ever, right? Your brain? I like....your...brain." He cleared his throat to try to undistract himself but how did you do that with college volleyball on the tv?

"Dude, the dude who invented ESPN3 and beach volleyball rules should get a Emmy or Oscar or whatever shiny gold guy they give TV dudes." Kyle said, between stripping pieces of dark meat from a drumstick. "Did you know this is in the Olympics? They give chicks medals for this. This is the best sport EVER."

"Do you figure that women watch men's volleyball like this?" Sam had slipped into the room and pulled up a stool behind the couch so he could see over the younger occupants without disturbing their view. "Volleyball is Afghanistan's national sport... I bet the women there watch men like we do women here."

"Can you play volleyball in those big, sheet-type dress things they make women wear there?" Kevin's eyes were still tracking that girl's ass and it in no way occurred to him that men played volleyball. Why would they do that? This was clearly a woman's sport. And they did it so well. "You think if Ah made medals we could get girls to compete for it for us?"

"A burqa? I don't think they let women play sports at all." Sam laughed a bit at the idea of making a medal for the mansion's women. "I reckon not if you phrase it like that. You might could try to coordinate a school Olympics though. Then just make that one of the events."

"It's entirely appropriate for the Olympics. Considering, it's about the human body at the peak of physical perfection. And those ladies, my friends, represent that peak. Have you seen the Israeli competitor, Ima Fineasstein?" Garrison hooked another wing from the bucket, washing down the last one with a swig from his Moosehead. He was actually of the opinion that half the women in the mansion could give any of the volleyball players their walking papers in hotness, but this was a chance to ogle without guilt. Truly, it was a genetic responsibility to indulge the thumping masculine side in a group.

"Spartan women used to have this competition where they jumped up and whoever could hit their butt with the heels of their feet the most before they landed won. They should bring that back." All that jumping had to be good for the leg muscles and...attached areas. Kevin glanced back at Sam and then at Garrison for a moment. "School olympics, check." Those were nice mental images right there.

Sam grinned at the Spartan reference. "An Ancient Olympics... we could do that. Though I really, really suggest that no one mentions Pankration and we pretend it never existed. Because if we do ladies butt kicking and they find out about that it won't be good times for anyone."

"Dude, where do you learn this stuff?" In the interest of not getting kicked out for being gross, Kyle had opted not to chew through the smaller chicken bones, and was now making a neat pile of them to toss into the empty bucket. "Hey, didn't they do the Olympics naked? Man, we need some like, history teacher guy to convince everyone that we should do it all historical-style." He looked directly towards Sam. "I'd settle for togas even."

"Kyle, back in those days, only men were allowed to compete in the Olympics, which, yes, they did very naked. So unless this is an idea for a birthday gift for Jay, is there something you want to share with the group?" Kane said, with an amused expression.

"Hey, it's 2009. Gender equality! I'll totally go naked if it means we get the girls in nothing." He wouldn't, and really didn't want to, but it wasn't like Kyle could back down now. That'd be stupid. And suicidal. And result in mocking. "I mean, not like Jay isn't like, ogling everyone in the locker room anyway. You know he does."

"No mentioning Pankration. I'm not sure I could get too much into oiled up, naked wresting and it would certainly make the mansion a much more awkward place for a while. I certainly know Jay doesn't want to see his brother in all that." Sam shook his head at the thought.

"Would that be chicken and talk of naked wrestling I sense?" said Marius, poking his head around the doorframe. His eyebrows rose as he caught sight of the television screen. "Strange, my interest in poultry is strangely diminished. The latter, somewhat less so."

"We're plotting school Olympics," Kevin told Marius with a grin. "Girls volleyball and apparently Kyle wants to wrestle men while oiled up. Not too sure 'bout him anymore actually." He eyed Kyle warily, which a bit of a problem when he was sitting so close to him.

"Sam wants to do naked oiled wrestling. I just said I'd get naked if it meant we got naked beach volleyball with the girls." Kyle protested. "And yeah, we found like four years of Tivo'd beach volleyball. It's pretty awesome. I love ESPN3." And then he bounced a chicken bone off Kevin's head, just for good measure.

"How can you even consider such things with Miss UCLA there, spiking for your pleasure." Garrison took a bite of his chicken. "Said thing is, when I was in university, most of these girls were graduating public school. Word to the wise, gentlemen. Never get old."

Marius intercepted the chicken bone on the next rebound and tossed it expertly towards the bucket. "Live fast, die young, an' don't consider your borderline pornography's relative proximity to the schoolyard. Got it." He made a swipe at the pile of chicken. "Kyle, not sure about the naked volleyball . . . except perhaps for Jan and Cats."

"I don't think talking about the ladies at the school we'd like to see naked will end in any good way." Sam had to put a stop to this one for a number of reasons, not the least of which being he didn't want to be presented with the question himself.

"Everyone havin' to find a private place suddenly could be awkward," Kevin put in, though he was entirely joking. "Ah've got no desire to see Cats naked. It's like a sister. Or a kitten. And makes that whole sneaks into my bed thing weird if Ah have to remember she's a girl."

Marius waved a hand full of chicken at them. "No, no, no. I was merely namin' those who have in the past frequently been naked. Ask Kyle."

"Oh, yeah. Jan's naked a lot." Kyle said. 'Oh, wait, you mean outside like, my room and her room. She has... yeah, so apparently she 'forgets' to wear her shape changing underwear. I think my girlfriend's one of those exhibitions or something. People who like getting naked around other people. Catseye just hates clothes. oh, and you forgot Jane. She hates clothes too."

"Exhibitionist, Kyle. And seriously, all of you, sack up. We're men. Of course we want to see all the pretty women in the mansion naked. Even Sam, who's from the south and thus puts his sister back in play from strictly a cultural perspective. I firmly believe that Miss Munroe could remove my spine with her fingernails without breaking a sweat and planting begonias with the other hand, and I still would totally pay to see her in the buff." Garrison said, in his best 'St.Crispin's Day' voice.

"I can vouch: it is indeed worth it," Marius remarked around a chicken thigh.

Sam looked sidelong at Garrison. "Lets remember the South has many more positive stereotypes than just the ones y'all here like to cherry pick. We're where the gentlemen are bred and my sister doesn't get put into any sort of play." His voice wasn't too stern but he was indeed making it known his sister wasn't open to jokes. He was the eldest, after all. It would always be his duty to protect his family.

"You're lucky. My sister happens to be hot and nail the biggest losers this side of Alberta. If it helps, I'm Canadian. I cherrypick all negative American traits, not just the Southern ones." Kane said. "Seriously though, the level of female hot in this place is off the scale. Of course we're going to want to look. Of course the idea of a scantily-clad pillow fight amoungst them all is going to appeal to us."

"He only says that 'cause he's from Kentucky instead of Louisiana," Kevin chimed in. "They're up near the Yankees so they gotta behave more. You get down to Louisiana and Mississippi, deep South territory? Yeah...all that defendin' us Sam wants to do won't save anyone from the people there. Brings 'redneck' to a whole new level. Like eight feet lower'n the one you already got for it."

But then Kevin focused on the important bit. "Actually, can we get the Snow Valley women to have the pillow fight?" What, they were hot!

"I still vote for beach volleyball." Kyle said. "Seriously. It's a legit sport, they'd totally go for it. And hell yes on the Snow Valley women." They were all either leggy, ex-models or freaky. "I mean, dude, the Olympics totally got women to wear bikinis as part of the rules. It's in the rules. They can't say no. It's in the -rules-."

"And rules are important," Kevin said as he bit into a chicken leg. "For, um, fairness. Or something?"

Marius gave a sage nod. "It's true. Without such wardrobe requirements, how are we to know they aren't hiding some illegitimate performance enhancer upon their persons?"

"You ever looked at Betsy Braddock? Trust me, any performance enhancers are being just covered by the bikini as is."

"Obviously the answer's naked volleyball." Kevin nodded. "Like Kyle said. Or was that naked, oiled volleyball?"

Kyle's only response was to fumble for a bottle of water and finish the entire bottle in one pull.

"Freud would have had a field day with you, Gibney." Kane's stripped chicken bone arced through the air, and hit the garbage can across the room with a perfect throw.