Lance Armstrong Dates an Olsen

Normally, I’m not one to get caught up in the drama of celebrity happenings. At least not on purpose. I mean, yes, I will peruse the cover of, say, an US Weekly while I’m held up at a grocery line. I may flip through the E! Channel to see what Ryan Seacrest is excited about today. When I sign into Yahoo, I take a glance at the pop culture headlines next to the login box. But I’m not an active seeker of celebu-drama.

Today, however, someone brought up to me an event that I couldn’t ignore. Two monolithic figures in our society have joined forces to create a relationship that, if left ignored, may fizzle and put a stop to perhaps the greatest love story ever told. I am of course talking about the newly flower-bud of burgeoning love between Lance Armstrong and Ashley Olsen.

The age difference between the two really isn’t that dramatic, when you’re reasonable about it. They’re both at the tops of their respective fields: Armstrong has won many a Tour de Lance, while Ashley Olsen is 50% of the biggest money-making machine ever to grace Lance Armstrong’s lap.

After the news bulletin was brought to my attention, I did a little research. Apparently, the two were spotted drinking red wine at the Rose Club, while A-Ols sat on L-Arm’s lap and giggled “like a schoolgirl.” That kind of connection almost never happens.

I feel like society is calling this match surprising. Well, you know what else is surprising, society? Justice. Peace. A reasonably priced headband at Banana Republic ($22 was what I paid by accident. I was thinking it would be like, $7. But I couldn’t bring myself to put it back.) These things aren’t bad because they’re surprising, they’re fantastic and rare! Just like Ash-strong’s love.

The cynic in me says that the 15 year age difference and the vast gap in experience between the two will eventually wrench an ice pick in the heart of their newly borne passion. But the romantic in me? The romantic in me says that this is a story which deserves to be told, regardless of whether it actually happens.

That’s why I’ve taken the time to create a tale of love.

Ash-Strong: A Love for the Ages

A Play

by Angela

 

Act 1, Scene 1

An Italian Restaurant. The lights are dim. The tablecloths checkered and spotted with wax from the burning candles. Crumbs of bread are visible on the floor. Lance Armstrong sits alone, brooding.

Lance

(to himself)

Another Italian dinner alone? The portions at this, my favorite restaurant, are so large they could be shared by two people. My appetite is ravenous as usual. But this time, my appetite is not for complex carbohydrates to fuel my ferocious pedaling. Since I’ve retired, my life has seemed empty. I’ve dated women. But have I truly loved?

Waitress

All finished, Lance? (Reaches to take half-empty plate of lasagna)

Lance

Yes, Marta. I am finished. (Throws napkin to the floor) I’m finished searching for something I’ve always wanted but never found. I’m finished pedaling my bicycle across the globe in the hopes that someone will stop me and ask, “Why so fast? What’s your hurry? Why don’t you stop and experience life, and love, and family like a true man should?” I’m finished behaving like a trained horse. I’m finished with feeling the wind under my helmet and spending time with superficial celebrities. I’m tired of yellow plastic bracelets and I don’t want to live strong. I just want to live my life, Marta. Just life.

Lance exits without paying.

Curtain

 

Act 1, Scene 2

A Manhattan Apartment

Ashley Olsen sits alone on an overstuffed couch, seeming depressed.

Mary-Kate snorts cocaine off of the Special Features disc of the Full House Season One DVD set.

Ashley coughs. Mary Kate glares at Ashley, and storms out of the room without a word.

 

Ashley

(To herself)

What am I doing here? Watching Mary-Kate throw away our years of teamwork, burying herself in a new, exciting world of hobo clothes and crack pipes? Doesn’t she care at all about my interests? Like red wine, or making out with athletes? It’s like Mary Kate isn’t even my twin sister anymore…it’s like she’s my twin….bitch….ster.

Ashley looks around to see if anyone heard her.

I need something new in my life. I need a dynamic change. I should move away somewhere, meet new people, sing a new tune. Manhattan doesn’t have that same thrill it used to. The other day a little girl asked me if I was Hillary Duff. I was like, does Hillary Duff have a twin? That Hannah Montana is totally trying to bank off of me and Mary-Kate’s twin thing. She doesn’t even have a twin, but she acts like she does. Is she a rock star? Is she a normal teenager? How many identities does this girl get to have? She gets the notoriety for playing more than one role, plus she gets to keep all the money, without sharing it with her nonexistent sister. You think I didn’t think of that? You think I wouldn’t have liked to be a whole celebrity, you multi-headed Miley Cerberus?

Ashley sighs, and looks out the window.

Curtain.