Notice to any women who are hoping for hot multiple gold medal sex with a certain big-eared swimmer in the coming weeks; Michael Phelps' sperm are not to be trifled with. As this T-shirt by The Hotness Factory clearly illustrates, his boys can swim; they are pretty much the Navy Seals of spermatozoa, so don't harbor any illusions. This means you, Lohan. Meanwhile, Troy Patterson of Slate seems to think that none of the above will be relevant, at least anytime soon.
That Phelps cannot dress himself is part of his gentle charm. He is not your average sloppy 23-year-old. Rather, he seems to have stopped developing, in some respects, at about the age he started training seriously and thus resembles a sloppy 11-year-old superhuman. Not without poise, Phelps has declared events related to his record-breaking string of performances "cool," "very cool," "neat," and "really neat." In the glow of his triumph, he faces the camera with something more interesting than real humility (which is pious) or false modesty (which is dull). He's working a kind of confounded ecstasy, ducking his head as if he's slightly shy to feel so good about himself, easing his way into the idea of not trying to stifle his grins.