I didn’t create The Petty Olympics out of boredom or creativity or even a desire to be funny. No. I created it because I needed a structured, emotionally safe place to put all the tiny, ridiculous, irrational feelings that build up when someone breathes wrong near me. I needed an outlet that wasn’t therapy, wasn’t journaling, and wasn’t texting my best friend paragraphs that start with “not to be dramatic but…” So I invented a sport…..

A passive aggressive, cardio free, emotionally charged athletic arena where I could channel every eye roll, every dramatic sigh, every slow reply, every “I’m fine” that absolutely meant “I am drafting a monologue in my head.” The Petty Olympics became my way of honoring the little grievances, the ones too small to fight about but too spicy to ignore. A place where my inner gremlin could stretch, warm up, and compete for gold. If I’m going to be petty, I might as well be elite.

Welcome to The Petty Olympics, the only international competition where the athletes are emotionally hydrated, chronically overthinking, and powered almost entirely by spite and iced coffee. This is not a game for the faint of heart. This is a sport for people who have mastered the art of saying “I’m fine” while reorganizing a bookshelf with the intensity of a Navy SEAL.

Let the games begin.

The Passive Aggressive Hydration Marathon

We open with a classic endurance event: the Loud Sip. This is where you take a very dramatic, very unnecessary gulp of water to prove you’re unbothered even though your blood pressure is doing parkour. The judges look for volume, eye contact, and whether you slam the cup down afterward like you’re signing a declaration of independence.

The “Who Can Reply the Slowest” Relay

Next up, the texting arena. This is a psychological thriller disguised as communication. You open the message. You read it. You lock your phone. You walk away. You let the suspense marinate like a slow cooked grudge. Bonus points if the message sits there glowing like a neglected houseplant while you go live your life or pretend to.

The Strategic Plate Slam

A domestic fan favorite. Not loud enough to break anything because you’re petty, not unhinged but just forceful enough to communicate, “I am the victim and the ceramic dishware agrees.” This is an event of nuance, wrist control, and emotional acoustics.

Olympic Level Over Explaining

This is where the athletes shine. You explain something they already know, but with tone. With flourish. With the energy of someone who has rehearsed this in the shower. Judges score based on eyebrow height, unnecessary detail, and whether you end with “but it’s whatever.”

The Silent Exit Sprint

A speed event. You storm out of a room without making eye contact, fueled by adrenaline and righteous indignation. Extra points if your hair swishes dramatically or if you grab your phone like you’re about to file a complaint with HR even though HR is just your group chat.

The “I’m Not Mad” Floor Routine

A delicate, emotionally unstable performance. You sigh. You reorganize random objects. You say “it’s fine” in increasingly unconvincing tones. You open and close cabinets for no reason. It’s interpretive dance meets emotional hostage situations.

The Petty Budget Review

A financial event with prosecutorial flair. You read receipts out loud like you’re presenting evidence in court. “Interesting… $7.49 at Starbucks. For who.” The crowd gasps. The defendant, whoever you’re mad at, has no lawyer present.

Competitive Screenshotting

A digital classic. You screenshot the message. You send it to your best friend. The panel of judges, the group chat, convenes immediately. They analyze tone, punctuation, emoji usage, and whether the message sender deserves jail time.

The Dramatic Blanket Snatch

A nighttime event requiring strength, precision, and the ability to hold a grudge horizontally. You yank the blanket back with the force of someone who has been wronged since 2016. The crowd cheers. Your partner shivers. Justice is served.

The Emotional Gymnastics Beam Routine

The final event. This is where you twist, flip, and stretch the narrative until you are unquestionably the main character. You land the dismount with a perfectly timed “I just think it’s funny how…”

Closing Ceremony

And that, ladies, gentlemen, and emotionally constipated situationships, concludes this year’s Petty Olympics. A prestigious international competition where the stakes are low, the drama is high, and the athletes…me…are doing the absolute least while feeling the absolute most. Consider this my closing ceremony. No fireworks, just vibes, grudges, and a slow clap for my own emotional athleticism.

Listen…If I don’t channel my petty feelings somewhere, they will absolutely leak out in the form of a dramatic cabinet slam or a suspiciously loud sip of water. This is self care. This is emotional cardio. This is me choosing the healthier option… which says a lot about the alternatives. So, here’s to the tiny annoyances we pretend don’t bother us, the slow replies we weaponize, the blankets we snatch with Olympic precision, and the narratives we stretch until we’re the main character again. May we continue to compete with grace, delusion, and just enough self awareness to call it “growth.” Until next year’s games. Hydrate, stretch, and keep your screenshots organized. The judges aka the group chat are always watching.

XOXO,

Savi Monroe