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Olympics Started

The Olympics have started. For the most part, football is the only sport I watch on tv with any kind of consistency — meaning I voluntarily turn it on and am not subject to someone else controlling the remote. But, then the Olympics come around, and I want to watch them every night. My favorite Olympic memory is the 2004 games. I was supposed to be blitzing through setting up my grad school apartment with my sister. Instead, we’d turn on the tv for “just a minute” and a few hours later realize that the kitchen was still boxed up around us or the futon frame was still sitting in pieces around our feet.

So, here are a few of my observations from this year’s Olympics so far.

I can’t believe that NBC’s obnoxious commentary — a jabberfest that said much that could have been left unsaid — missed commenting on the tribute to my favorite cake decorating blog. Could this moment in the opening ceremony

 

 

 

 

 

(Photo credit: Huffington Post)

have been anything other than a shout out to Cake Wrecks?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there was the odd flaming homage to socialized health care. But, I did appreciate the historical narrative sweeping from agrarian to industrial societies, the symbolism of the Olympic Cauldron (once I finally figured out what those bronze objects being carried in with each nation were), and the fact that Mary Poppins could defeat Voldemort (I always knew that Harry Potter was just a flash in the pan).
I also think that I could probably lose weight this Olympic go round. That won’t happen by working out, of course, because that would require turning off the Olympics to turn on a workout video. However, there is just something about watching people who probably haven’t had a good piece of pie or a Hershey’s bar in years that makes me hesitant to stuff my face –er, well, except for that ice cream I  just ate…. Maybe my inspiration will escalate as the week continues.

And, finally, after watching the long anticipated Phelps vs. Lochte swimming race, I’ve decided that from this point forward, I should no longer call what I do swimming. There is no resemblance. The Olympic swimmers slice through the water faster than I can even run. Meanwhile, I do something that’s a cross between drowning and thrashing. So, I can no longer go swimming with people. I’ll go drashing. A quick google search indicates that this term is being used in other contexts, but I’m going to requisition it. I need some alternate term because I just don’t swim. My body has never done that crazy fish looking movement the swimmers make when they come off the wall. I can’t even flip and push off a wall without stopping to grab the lane divider and cough up the three gallons of pool water that I swallow in the process.

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