I'm sure most people are glued to the television watching the Olympics. It would be un-American not to. Unless you have to get up before 8:00 the next morning, then you're just being cautious about your sleep.
The whole international date line is a bit much to handle during the Olympics. It's a good thing Bob Costas is in Beijing or it would throw him into a frenzy of rambling while trying to do time zone math.
Oh I kid. He'd have a computer to tell him the time in Beijing.
Seriously, it's on from 8:00-midnight here. I love gymnastics and swimming. Yet I am stuck catching highlights because my little peepers can't stay open past 11 o'clock.
I've realized something about the Olympics. If over-emotional, hormone driven crying spells was a sport, I'd metal in it and set records.
Watching the 2008 drummers in the opening ceremony made me a little misty-eyed.
It's only getting worse.
Just seeing Michael Phelps on the podium sends tears streaming down my face. Then they always pan to his mamma cheering and jumping. I almost can't breathe.
Seeing the two alternates for the men's gymnastics team on their events sent tears down my cheeks.
Hearing that Kerri Walsh got her wedding ring back because of 20 volunteers made me do the ugly cry.
Even hearing the story about the pandas being so close to the epicenter of the earthquake started the tears.
I'm a blubbering mess for 2 weeks.
Except when I saw the Oxygen channel had some Olympic coverage at 6:00 last night. I was so excited. Something before bedtime.
It was equestrian jumping. That doesn't really do it for me.
Now the trampoline, that's another story.
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