SUNDAY AFTERNOON BEFORE going couch-comatose, I watched the Olympics. Some figure skater was flailing around on the ice and then fell down. The announcers acted like his life was over. Then they said, "Well, he only barely qualified for the Slovenian team, so he wasn't a threat to win a medal."
I came back a while later after emerging from the couch coma. That is, I tried to come back. Every time I clicked to NBC, there were commercials. And commercials. And features about the commercials. And promos for their great coverage. No twirling skaters or Kamikaze snowboarders or laboring cross country skiers.
Click. Click. Double Click.
Then I tried again last night. Except I made the mistake of going online to read about the Olympics. I knew 12 hours ago the favored American didn't win, so there was no tension or drama watching the downhill. Bode? That's his real name, Bode? Fits for a skier, I guess.
I love watching Olympic hockey, but I'm not getting up at 3 a.m.
Not yet, anyway.
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