I’m sorry, but I can’t blog tonight. I’m watching the Olympics. In fact, you might as well count me out for the next 14 days. I won’t be able to follow House Hunters or Say Yes to the Dress or What Not To Wear while I’m at the gym because I’ll be watching moguls and men’s biatholon and curling. You see, I will watch anything if it’s on the Olympic roster. If they made manure tossing an Olympic sport, I’d so watch it.
Normally, I scoff at pairs skating. Stupid ballerinas on sticks. But during this two week period? Oh, yah, I cried with the Russian couple who missed on their side-by-side triple toe loop during the short program. And, really, moguls are boring to watch. But I cringed and hung my head in pain for the Korean girl who fell after the first jump. I feel it, girl.
And then, after enjoying the speed skating and the luge and the slalom, I get the big reward. Super pipe, baby, Super Pipe. To see Shaun White tossing his pretty curls around as he tears it up, well, let’s just say even chocolate can’t draw my attention away. And then, when the girls get out there and I see what it would be like to be a real woman, wow. This is vicarious living at its best.
Normally, I’m a sports-free zone. But when Sven Kramer won and climbed into the stands to hug his dad, I cheered. Yup, out loud. There may have even been tears in my eyes, but I won’t admit to that in public.
And then it’s over and I have 2 years to get my stamina back for the Summer Olympics. This, my dear friends, is fine television.