Why eight? Because eight is the new 10. Come on, the Top 10 list is so pop culture 1.0, so analog, so Letterman. Top 10 is over like Beijing, baby. Eight is the number of medals Michael Phelps won; turn eight sideways and it becomes infinity. Nothing any good is based on 10 (except the decimal system, and who uses that anyway?) So, pace yourselves, and each year achieve two of the goals listed below, and by 2012 you'll be ready for London, provided you have legal, notarized proof of age.

1. Learn the language of the host country - If you're reading this without benefit of a translator, you're way ahead of the average member of the LPGA and should only need a little help. For instance, in the Queen's English, lift means elevator, loo means bathroom, bollocks means testes, fag means cigarette, and every other word you're not sure of probably means inebriated. If you're still uncertain, try watching some Monty Python or Fawlty Towers - just about anything with John Cleese will do.

2. Find something to protest - Getting a little more challenging. Whereas China was a smorgasbord of protest options, Great Britain is a fairly progressive place with few objectionable qualities since it gave up its quest for world domination through brutal colonialization a century or so ago. Stay away from the Royal Family, except for Prince Charles who is still a pretty kickable dog. If you can't find anything, try protesting Madonna; I'm sure Londoners would be glad to be rid of her. (Note: You won't actually be allowed to protest during the Games, but you can get a lot of mileage out of this in the years and months leading up to the Opening Ceremony.)

3. Invent a new Olympic sport - It's already too late to be included in 2012, but if you start now, you might be able to build enough momentum for 2016. Recently, the IOC added trampoline, BMX and marathon open water swimming, so if you combine these three and add a team element, I think you end up with ... "Waterworld." Ahh, Kevin Costner, always so tragically ahead of his time.

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The only episode of Project Runway I have ever seen showed the contestants trying to outfit female professional wrestlers, managers and divas, so I may not be the most qualified observer to hand out the FPM medals for fashion; but, in the true spirit of Olympic judging, I'll do my best be partial and unfair, and I will disregard factual evidence in favor of my own preferences. I am also willing to accept bribes.

On a visual level, the Beijing Olympic Games were a Sizzler scale buffet from the very first minute of the Opening Ceremony to the final passing of the torch to London. The sheer volume of athletic attire and costumery makes it very hard to pick out the award winners, but just as the 26.3 mile marathon begins with a single step, we must start in order to finish:

Fashion No-No medal - This was a close call with the banned lighted costumes of the Spanish synchronized swimmers a strong runner up, but the FPM medal goes to the New Zealand men's field hockey team, whose black undergarments beneath their white shorts resulted in the team's coach being forced to watch their semifinal match against Germany from the stands.

Michael Jordan Knee Brace medal - When MJ was at his peak, every pick-up hoop game in America had at least one guy who put an elastic sleeve over his left knee to look like Mike. In that vein, I think we are going to see a lot more of the Rorshach ink blot tape sported by American beach volleyballer Kerri Walsh. Neither of these fashion innovations will add a centimeter to your vertical leap, but has fashion ever been about results? Silver medal in this category to Michael Phelps, whose double-swim cap tactic has already been endorsed by safe swim advocates from the World Health Association.

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Continuing a magnificent two-day old tradition, FPM celebrates the best and worst of the Beijing Games. Check here for more FPM medals.

Sports broadcasters are like referees, umpires and offensive linemen; you don't really notice them when they are good, but they can ruin a game when they are bad. Every now and then, though, a pulling guard will obliterate three defenders on a touchdown run, and an announcer will make a sports event a little more enjoyable, although sometimes unintentionally so. In that spirit, FPM awards our best and worst announcers of the Games.

Bob Costas chatted with numerous guests in the studio, everyone from gold medal winners to President George W. Bush. In the first few days of the Games, I cringed as he interviewed the women's fencing trio that swept the sabre event, as he marveled that all three attend prestigious American universities ("Golly, you girls must be so smart!"). But once the gymnastics events started, Costas was saved by the Bela Karolyi, whose over the top theatrics and nearly incomprehensible commentary made for the most entertaining comedy of the entire two weeks. For Bob and Bela, an FPM medal in the pairs event.

In the worst announcers category, Tiki Barber was a shoo-in for the men. His gaffes and missteps were so frequent that if Awful Announcing ever builds a Hall of Fame, they'll have a separate wing called the Tiki Tiki Tiki Room. At the very least, Barber will have a place to display his FPM medal.

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The last time Michael Phelps came home with a bunch of Olympic medals, his hometown of Towson, Maryland, honored him with a "Phelpstival," including a parade, the keys to the city, and a street named Michael Phelps Way. Now that he's moved up from American Olympic hero to international sports icon, expectations for his homecoming are ramping up as well. The governor has issued a proclamation, but, as a Maryland resident, I'm wondering when there might be a tribute of a more permanent nature.

Let's look at what's been done for other Baltimore sports heroes. Cal Ripken has a section of Interstate 395 near Camden Yards named for him. There's also Ripken Stadium in Aberdeen, Maryland. Johnny Unitas Stadium is the home of the Towson University Tigers. Babe Ruth has a statue at Camden Yards. For some reason, Brooks Robinson's statue is in York, Pennsylvania.

That's it? Stadiums, streets, statues? Surely we can do better than that. This needs some creativity. I called the National Aquarium in Baltimore. Apparently they have a new baby dolphin that needs a name. Any chance they'll name it after our Aquaman? Well, it's a girl, so maybe they'll go with Michelle Phelps. Or they could do that trendy last name for a first name thing and just name her Phelps.

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My colleague Maggie Hendricks proposed in a recent item that American gymnast Nastia Liukin and her Chinese opponent He Kexin each be awarded a gold medal in the uneven bars because they achieved the same score on the apparatus; instead, Olympic officials followed the established tie breaking protocol and elevated He to the gold medal platform.

I gotta say, I'm with Maggie on this one. In fact, I'll go one step further and say that all the gymnasts should get a medal. Yes, let's give them all a nice, shiny gold medal because they all worked so hard and did their best. And then after the medal ceremony, the team moms can give them each a juice box and a tasty hypoallergenic snack food to tide them over until we get to McDonalds.

Listen, if you want to know why the United States is losing in the gold medal count (last I checked, USA had 25 and China had 42), it's because the "we're all winners" attitude has overtaken the American sports culture. This is sports. It's the Olympics. There is a winner and a loser. The winner gets the gold medal. The loser gets silver, bronze or memories. Thanks, you've been great, see you in four years, if you're good enough.

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I was going to call this post "Olympic medalists you've never heard of," although, of course, the better title would be, "Olympic medalists I've never heard of." But either way I'd be ending a sentence with a preposition, a big no-no for those of us who went to Catholic grammar school. Regardless, my point is that there are many, many stories of Olympians worth hearing that NBC just can't or won't take the time to tell.

Consider the case of this world class athlete who made her Olympic debut at the age of 24 in the Sydney Games, won a gold medal four years later despite training without a coach, dropped out of international competition for nearly three years to have a baby and go to college, and then made history last weekend as she became the first ever repeat champion in her event, only six months after her return to the sport. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Beijing Olympics triple jump champion Francoise Mbango Etone of Cameroon.

If the profile attached to the above link strikes you as somewhat thin (like marathon runner arms thin), don't bother checking over at NBC for more information. There are six entries mostly about medal counts when you search for Etone but no video and not even an action photo.

So, I spent a few extra minutes with my old pal the Internets, and I found a tale that Hollywood would be happy to grab and reshape beyond recognition into box office gold. (I also found Francoise Mbango Etone anagrams. My personal favorite: Boing! Feet on me can soar!) Now back to our story.

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Why is the 100 meters champion called the World's Fastest Man? Nobody calls Cesar Cielo Filho the World's Fastest Swimmer.

Wouldn't it be great if the World's Fastest Man was determined like the World's Strongest Man? But what are the sprinting equivalents of the Fridge Carry and the Pillars of Hercules? Instead of just racing 100 meters against one another, the runners could compete in a variety of sprint events, like say, trying to outrun a line of burning oil or racing against cheetahs and greyhounds.

Unfortunately, outside of the Opening Ceremony and Closing Ceremony, the Olympic Games are not known for creativity (unless you count the scoring in boxing and gymnastics). So here's a look at what you can expect in the men's 100 meter final.

First of all, the schedule. According to NBC, the semifinals will be run Saturday morning at 8:13 (EST) and the finals at 10:30 a.m., but neither will be shown until primetime Saturday night. If you don't want to know the winner before then, you'd better lock yourself in the bathroom all day and not take any phone calls.

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Warning: the following item makes no mention of Michael Phelps, men's or women's gymnastics, Michael Phelps, USA Basketball, Michael Phelps, beach volleyball, or international scandals, contrived or otherwise (or Michael Phelps).

A few weeks ago, FPM's Pat Imig told us about Katerina and Matt Emmons, a pair of Olympic shooters who met during the Summer Games in Athens four years ago and were married in June, 2007. Shooting for the Czech Republic, Katerina captured the first gold medal of the Beijing games when she won the 10 meter air rifle. She followed that with a silver in the 50 meter three positions rifle.

Matt, an American who lost his chance at two golds when he shot the wrong target in Athens, took silver yesterday in the men's 50 meter rifle prone position. He has a chance to equal his wife's record tomorrow in the 50 meter three positions competition. For the sake of marital harmony, I know I'm cheering for him. ("Matt, honey, could you polish the medals, please? Both of mine are getting a little dusty.") To be fair, Matt won gold and Katerina bronze in Athens, so exactly what the score is depends on whether you are counting golds or total medals.

Meanwhile the Emmons have become media darlings, the TomKat and Brangelina of the Olympic Village (MattKat? Matterina? Help me out here.) Olympic shooters usually manage to dodge the swarming paparazzi, but the "Rifle Romance" has climbed to Spunky Gymnast levels on the adorable scale (just one step below Puppies and Cooing Baby). After all, when you are first introduced in Athens and your second date is in Bangkok, that's not just meet cute, it's meet jet set. Not bad for a guy from Jersey and a girl from Plzen.

Everyone roots for newlywed couples anyway, and this "Green Card" meets "The Rifleman" has set the press corps abuzz. Best headline I've seen so far has to be "Shot through the heart."

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Are you having a hard time waiting for Michael Phelps' next race? How have you been coping in the 24  hours (21 if you are on the West Coast) since "The Towson Torpedo" brought the Water Cube crowd to its feet with yet another record-setting, gold medal performance? Do you feel anxious and jittery, like a Tour de France rider waiting for his doping results? Are you pacing around the room, muttering about split times, underwater pullouts and flip turns? Did you put in your bid on eBay for his meet-worn and unwashed Speedo? Do you use a stopwatch to time your every activity, from making your bed in the morning to brushing your teeth at night, and celebrate each "personal best" by humming the national anthem, welling up in tears as you find your adoring mother's eyes beaming down from the stands?

Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, but it sounds like you are a Phelpsaholic. And it's going to be another whole day before America's Aquaman hits the water for the 200 meter individual medley finals. And I know tonight's preliminary just doesn't meet your needs. So how can you handle your phrenzied Phelps phetish? Well, now that you've admitted that you have a problem, which is always the first step, here are a few recommendations.

Find someone to talk to who feels your pain and understands the agony you're suffering. Like an NBC executive. Or a golf enthusiast struggling with Tiger Woods' absence from the PGA Tour. The Phelps Phan in the AT&T Wireless commercials doesn't count. She's not a real person, no matter how powerfully you identify with her. Besides, you probably wouldn't be able to get her on the phone anyway.

Reconnect with your family. Take the kids to the pool. Praise them for their swimming skills, but when you find yourself building a medal stand out of the deck chairs, it's time to leave. If you don't have children of your own, find a nine year old boy and make him swim laps until he nearly collapses. I'm sure his parents and the police will understand.

Go to the state or county fair. Resist the urge to swim an individual medley in the dunk tank. Instead, search for the funhouse mirror that makes you look like you have short legs, a long torso and the wingspan of a California condor. Now flex and pose jubilantly until the veins pop out of your neck.

Get in touch with nature. Take a walk. If it's sunny out, wear a cap. Better yet, wear two caps. Just like Michael Phelps would.

If all else fails, try a swimming movie marathon. Start with Pride. After that, Swimfan is a top notch thriller. If black comedy is your bag, try Swimming With Sharks. In the teen comedy genre, we have Swim Team. Spalding Gray's classic monologue piece, Swimming to Cambodia is always a treat, or if you'd just like to be confused by a foreign film, the French film Swimming Pool is would be perfect. If you prefer your cinematic weirdness in good old American English, check out Burt Lancaster in The Swimmer.

That should be more than enough to hold you until tomorrow night. But remember, this is only a temporary fix. After this Saturday, it's four years until the next Olympics and who knows if Phelps will even swim in London in 2012? I'd recommend that you join Phelpsaholics Anonymous first thing Sunday morning; if there's not a PA chapter in your area, don't worry, there will be one soon.

Photo via Getty Images

Well, thank goodness for swimming and fencing because apparently Americans can't shoot, cycle or lift weights worth a yuan. As of 5:00 am Monday morning (EST), the United States and China were deadlocked at 12 in the overall medal race, but the host country held a strong 8-3 lead in the gold category. Of the dozen American medals, eight came in swimming, three in fencing, and one in trap shooting.

Okay, so maybe we can shoot a little bit; first time Olympian Corey Cogdell blasted her way to bronze in women's trap shooting. Cogdell grew up hunting and fishing in her home state of Alaska; she began her competitive shooting career in air pistol and rifle but switched to shotgun because, "You get to see something explode." Well, you can't get more American than that now, can you?

Still, China took gold in the men's and women's 10 meter air pistol. Are you telling me the nation of Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley and Dirty Harry got beaten in pistol shooting? And not only did we misfire for gold, we couldn't beat Croatia, who got the bronze. Croatia! Look, I know Toni Kukoc was a pretty good shooter in his day, but I didn't see him out there on the target range.

Fortunately, our women's fencing team came through with a medal sweep in the individual sabre event, just four years after winning the first gold medal in its history. This is comforting, but, come on, when the bad dude with the big sword tried to take out Indiana Jones, what happened? That's right, Indy took out his gun and shot the guy. Game over. Why is this important? Because, in the words of that great Western philosopher, Clint Eastwood, "In this world, there's two kinds of people, my friend. Those who have loaded guns, and those who dig."

The U.S. also failed to medal in the cycling road race. So, where's that Armstrong guy when you really need him?

But we are pretty good in the pool. Of the 12 medals the U.S. has taken, eight have come in swimming. Amazingly, several have been won by someone other than Michael Phelps, whose quest for Olympic history is going ... wait for it...swimmingly. Phelps is a quarter of the way home in his aquatic octodyssey, and Jason Lezak's relay anchor leg in the 4 X 100 relay redefined awesome. Still, I am a little concerned about events taking place outside of the Water Cube.

For instance, in weightlifting, Thailand's spellcheck challenging Prapawadee Jaroenrattanatarakoon won gold in the women's 48-53 kilogram weight class, putting up 125 kilograms in the clean and jerk. Like most Americans, I'm not too quick on the old metric conversion, but I'm pretty sure I just typed that a 115-pound woman lifted 260 pounds over her head. Not a bad gal to have as a bodyguard, I guess, but I still think I'd go with the Chinese pistoleras.

Photo via AP Images