Mea Culpa

My friend Tracey wrote about her love of the Olympics. Many, many other bloggers that I read (*cough, cough, Trooper Thorn, cough, cough*) on a daily basis have also written about their love for the Olympics.

I hate the Olympics.

Or, I should say, I hated the Olympics.

During various times over the years when I would have to stay with my paternal grandmother, if the Olympics were on, she would FORCE me to watch them with her. I grew to hate ice skating and track and well, just all of it.

When I say hate, I really should have written it HATE!#%$&*$!

I would get nauseous whenever it was that time.

Since I’ve stopped spending time with her (due mostly to the fact that she’s deceased and that I haven't spoken to my father's side of the family since I was 19), I stopped watching the Olympics and screamed at the gods when they would come on because they would interrupt my regularly scheduled programming and we could just.not.have.that.

So, I missed out on all the Olympic goodies that have happened over the last 20 years or so. I actually went to Atlanta the year the Olympics were being held there. I got a little stuffed Olympic mascot. My dad and stepmother bought it for me. I really didn’t want it but hey, free stuff.

I swore up and down that I wasn’t going to watch it this year.

And I was good. I didn’t catch the opening ceremonies. I didn’t watch the first couple of days.

My mom has it on 24/7 because she’s retired and cool bored. She likes watching them (although I’ve never known her to watch them before) and keeps up with it pretty much.

But, I got sucked in to the whole “Phelpsing” aspect of it. (Thanks to Trooper Thorn for coining that phrase…pass it on people, pass it on).

I had to see what the fuss was all about. While waiting for him to swim again, they would show the ladies volleyball.

Wow….that was freakin’ awesome! Those ladies rock! They took home the GOLD last night. I sooooo want to be Misty May (I know she has another last name, I just like saying Misty May). If I could pick someone to switch teams for, it would be a toss up between her and Angelina Jolie.

And then....they showed the “phelpsing” portion of the Olympics.

I was hooked.

Like a grouper or a shark or an old shoe.

Totally hooked.

I got so jazzed waiting with bated breath to see if he could indeed pull it off.

And he did.

And I yelled so loud, I scared the cat off the couch.

Now, I’m in withdrawals.

I need my Phelps and Torres and Misty May and Nastia.

I can’t get into track that much. I ran it in high school, but really, except for the sprints, it’s pretty boring. (and that Usain Bolt is driving me batty)

Anyway, I freely admit that I was wro…..wait, before I say that, technically, I’m not wrong.






I just changed my mind.

Later,

My Affair

Y’all. I’m having an affair.

Seriously.

All the signs are there if you look closely.

I talk to him constantly.

I talk ABOUT him constantly.

I laugh at all his jokes.

I’ve taken an avid interest in his hobbies.

I’ve complimented him.

I’ve told others about him.

Do you want me to tell you about him?

You do?

O.k.

He’s a good-lookin’ fella.

He’s separated (y’all stop hatin’ me right now…it’s fine).

He’s got kids.

He has a pet crow.

He’s brilliant.

He’s talented.

He makes me laugh.

He has small feet but long toes (don't even get me started on the mental images this conjures up).

He’s………

(y’all haven’t guessed by now?)

……Trooper Thorn…of Dogs and Jeans.

Are you guys reading him?

He’s brilliant! I mean, seriously, he’s got writing chops like nobody I know.

Yeah, yeah, people talk about Black Hockey Jesus this and LiteralDan that, but this guy…he ROCKS!

The way he strings words together…he blows me away.

He’s recently written post after post about the Olympics. Y’all have seen me link to him at the top of my blog.

He writes about his dog on drugs.

He writes about a maniacal pet crow who likes to take baths from a water hose.

He writes about coloring…yes, with crayons.

He writes about spam...and not the meat, well, at least not the kind that comes in a can.

He writes about his kids coining a term for the combination of genitals. Yes, you read that right.

He writes about Phelpsing.

He writes about teen-age girls...not that way, you pervs.

He writes about camping bimbos. And unfortunately, no pics. Next, time, right Trooper?

Guys, if you aren’t reading him, you should be. He will make you laugh, he will make you think, he WILL entertain you.

In addition to his regular blog, he has also written a screenplay that Hollywood has yet to pick up. I think it’s because he got it off to the wrong people. If he could get this in Judd Apatow’s hands, imagine the possibilities.

He posts each episode under the blog name “Dialing Under the Influence”. Go, read, comment, critique (he doesn’t mind), love.

And, if you like him, pass the love along. Link to him, blogroll him, send the link to the screenplay to your cousins best friends ex-husbands psychiatrists sisters gay lover who knows Judd.

You won’t be sorry.

Later,