Yesterday my sister, with whom I usually see eye-to-eye about everything, said the most awful thing. She said, "I hate to say this, but am I the only one who is sick to death of the Olympics? I have no idea why it's getting on my nerves so badly this year, but that's enough now, OK, thanks. THE END." I mean, why would you put those words out there? It's The Olympics! The Olympics!
I love the Olympics even into my innermost affections. It pushes all my buttons: sports, dreams, triumph, glory, agony, melodramatic musical montages, commercials of kids pretending to be grown-ups, Bob Costas' and Crazy Mary's voices. Oh, how I love it. I have watched every minute of coverage available on NBC, even if I have to DVR it and catch up on the weekend -- but still it's not enough. All day long I am at nbcolympics.com, looking at photos, reading articles, watching videos.
This year I especially love how the Olympics are kind of supposed to be a giant commercial to showcase the host country's splendor, but it goes against everything Canada is about to brag about being so awesome. So, even the commercials about visiting Vancouver are kind of apologetic. Like, "A lot of people say these super great things about us, but this is just our home, you know? So don't feel bad if you live somewhere lame. You can come visit if you want. But no pressure."
I heart the Olympics so hard that I would happily give up Christmas for it. If the four-year schedule went: Christmas, Summer Games, Christmas, Winter Games, that would be just fine by me. Even if I had to give up Christmas entirely to make the Olympics happen, I would do that.
This is my favorite thing going right now and even though I know it's meant to emotionally manipulate me, I don't care. I've seen it a million times and every single time that kid slides out onto the ski jump seat I start crying.
And here's a bonus, because I love you.
Somewhere in the middle of all this I fell in love with you. I'm saying I love you. I'm saying it out loudl
Go world! Olympics forever!