Oh, Canada!

For the duration of the women’s figure skating competition, I will be cheering for Joannie Rochette of Canada. Will she win? Highly doubtful. After the short program she’s currently in ninth place. All three Americans placed well above her. In fact, Sasha Cohen is a whole 10.88 points better.

So, why, you may ask, would I be cheering for a woman who will most likely lose and is not even from my home country?

Simple.

Rochette's choreographer, David Wilson, got her to use an orchestral version of "Like a Prayer" for her short program. This makes me happy and wins my cheering support. To heck with talent. Music matters to me. It was pretty darn fantastic.

So, I’d like to thank David and Joannie for bringing Madonna to the Olympics. May they be able to have the longevity of Ms. Ciccone herself.

End Blog.

Bobsled or Bobsleigh?

Yes, I have very odd concerns. I’ve been talking about the bobsled event for several days. Okay, maybe not directly, but it’s been mentioned more than once in recent blogs. Everybody calls it bobsled. Bobsled bobsled bobsled. That's all you hear the commentators say.

And then I see it labeled on tv during the bobsled event. “Bobsleigh”.

What now?

Shouldn’t that be pronounced "bob-slay"? What the hell is up with that?

So, of course I had to look into it. The following is a public service announcement for all:

Bobsledding was invented in Albany, New York and then introduced to Switzerland. In the United States and Canada the sport is known as bobsled, everywhere else, bobsleigh.

So, living in the United States… I was right. Go me. And, considering that NBC is broadcasting to us here at home in America, they are wrong. They are titling the event as if I lived somewhere else (excluding Canada). They are wrong. Wrong wrong. Wrong.

I’m going to write a letter. Look for changes in 2010.

Oh, also, while we’re at it… Torino v. Turin. Dude, just pick one. At this point I don’t even care which one, although, if you’re really asking, Torino sounds prettier and Turin makes me think of the relic those insane religious folk actually think was Jesus’ burial shroud. And it sounds like urine. Okay, I do care.

Just stop using Turin already!

Things I’ve outlawed from the stations controlled by NBC: Bobsleigh and Turin.

I’ll keep you updated should there be more rules in the future. That is all.

End Blog.

Blog About Us, Too!

Okay, so I got a call from the US Women’s Curling team asking that I please comment on them, or their sport, and to be my witty, wonderful self. So, I watched the curling team do their thing today, with the hog line and the hammer and the rocks in the wheel house and peeling of the guards during a spiel. Or something. I’m nearly certain they speak a different language.

Not only do I not really understand all there is about this sport, but it’s very boring. It’s also something I think I could do, especially if there aren’t rules against like… shoving the rock down the ice and trying to hit as many of those things as possible. That would be more fun. There are probably rules against that.

Now I understand why they wanted me to bring attention to their sport. Because most people watching fall into a coma. I saw a few people in the stands with ventilators and heart monitors and IV lines. The team travels with a staff of doctors and nurses specifically for their fan base.

But you know the hardest thing for them? Being in the Olympic village with all those other thrill-seeking luge and skeleton and downhill skiing adrenaline junkies when they’re just so vanilla. So, to fit in – and under the ruse of raising money and bringing attention to the sport – some of international curlers have made a calendar where they’ve posed nude.

So, I can’t complain. Maybe all curlers have a uniquely wild side that’s usually hidden. And although sisters Jamie and Cassie Johnson of the US team weren’t part of the photo shoot, I suggest the organizers find out if they’re interested for the next calendar year. Because they’re both rather hot. They could be in a nudie, tastefully done calendar.


In other completely unrelated Olympic news...

Why does the bobsled race look so much slower than the luge or skeleton? They're still going over 80mph, but they look to be traveling at about 30. Damn you crazy maniacs! You've ruined watching bobsled forever!

End Blog.

PS - I'm not dead. The ticking was my cordless phone that was unplugged and packed away in a box. Apparently it ticks when it's unhappily losing its charge. Or it ticks when it's in a box. I have a claustrophobic phone. It figures.

Quick! Duck and Cover!!

For those of you living in a bubble... I'm moving. Almost 1100 miles and the trip will most likely take slightly more than 2 days with the moving truck. Which brings me to my current position:

Not only does my room look like a disaster area because of all the packing, but today I realized that there is actually something ticking in the middle of all of this mess. Now, I don't own anything that ticks. I have no idea what could be ticking.

Therefore, should you not see another post from me on here, I'll let you assume that someone planted a bomb in my room and now it actually is a disaster area.

I ask just one thing:

Tape it if it makes the news.

End Blog.

Yay! Just What I Needed!

More insects in my diet. Because, I hardly ever eat them. Okay, okay, I never eat them. I admit, I’m not that great when it comes to healthy eating habits. So, sneaking in good foods into things that I actually like is a good thing. You know what I’m talking about – tomatoes chopped up and well hidden, fruit covered in chocolate, beetles in my yogurt and juice. It’s nice that someone’s looking out for me. Left to my own devices I’d eat a box of cookies for dinner and go to bed.

Dannon, Tropicana, Hershey, Pespi – I thank you for helping me eat natural products. Way to keep me healthy!

Don’t let those vegetarians and kosher following individuals get you down!**

End Blog.

**Everything causes cancer. Get over it; we’re all dying no matter what we eat. Apparently Teflon (or, at least, perfluorooctanoic acid) is everywhere.

Women’s Downhill Hopeful

Lindsey Kildow may not be winning metals, but she’s got the absolute right idea about national television. Sure, she would’ve gotten screen time being at the Olympics. And yes, she would have even gotten interviews and stuff if she had done well.

But America loves an underdog, especially if it’s them, just as much as they love winners. But, I think, they also love to see people fail and are fascinated by pain, disappointment, and even perseverance.

So, here’s my new plan:

1. Get to the Olympics. 2. Get semi-hurt so that I can still compete. 3. Win the hearts of millions. 4. Get the most screen time of any athlete there.

Think about it. How much have you seen Lindsey on tv? Lots. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion. You see her ski. You see her ski in slow motion. You see a close up of the edges of her skis in slow motion. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion. You see her giving interviews. You see her talking about her injuries. You see her talk about the wonderful drugs they gave her. You see her say that she’s going to try her best. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion.

She’s already gotten more than her fifteen minutes of fame, more than all the other athletes there in Tornio. Sure, we’ll forget about her eventually. But look at all the exposure she’s getting. And in four years, if she comes back, you better believe she’ll have a highlight reel and we’ll see the fall. And we’ll see the fall in slow motion. And we’ll see interviews with her on how she’s overcoming it, overcoming the odds, getting her head in the right place to compete, how she’ll prove her abilities this time. And then we’ll see the fall again.

Lindsey Kildow is brilliant. She knows all about the “agony of defeat”.

And the only reason we might not remember her like we remember Picabo Street is because her parents totally messed up when they gave her an ordinary name. But, you better believe that she’s got a Chapstick commercial in the near future.

End Blog.

The Search Continues…

…for the most insane Olympian. Now, I thought those lugers were nutters, but I’ve found a woman who has taken over as the current most insane sportsman, ever. I am sure, given that I continue to watch these games, that there’s someone more fanatical out there. But for now…

I’m going with this woman who competes in skeleton – which is like the luge except you get to fling yourself down the track head first. I didn’t catch her name or home country, which I apologize for because I certainly want to know, but not only is she involved with this sport, but she’s still doing it while two months pregnant.

So, pregnant, running on ice, jumping stomach first onto a hard sled, and speeding head first down an icy mountain where it’s a miracle every time you don’t die. Who cares about metals? These people are actually alive at the bottom of the hill! Everyone’s a winner!

So, barring any unfortunate mishaps on the ice, I fear this kid of hers will be the ultimate thrill-seeker. And then he or she will end up topping this list someday when they invent the newest sport using the bobsled track called “Suicide” – where you go down head first, on your back, looking up at the sky, blindfolded, without a sled, while shooting heroine and playing Russian roulette. The person to kill themselves in the fastest time as they reach the bottom of the hill, wins.

Don’t think it won’t happen.

End Blog.

Nothing Will Ever Top 02/14/2005

So, this Valentine’s Day was not as cool as last year when I went to the morgue. Not even a little bit… but, things did get accomplished today. I…

1. Cancelled my phone line service
2. Cancelled my DSL
3. Cancelled my cable (all effective on the 28th)
4. Gave my leasing office my move-out date
5. Bought plain white paper for packing breakables
6. Faxed an application to the apartment I want to live at
7. Informed my two bosses what my last day would be
8. Oh, yeah, and I worked at work as well

And now… to acknowledge that it’s Valentine’s Day, I bought myself Chipotle. And I’m going to eat my chicken burrito with black beans with an icy cold Dr Pepper and at least take solace in the fact that I’m not leaving behind one of those significant-other-type-people when I move.

At least I know how to take care of me and make it a good Valentine’s Day. So, should you ever want to make my day remember – Chipotle and Dr Pepper. If there’s a heaven, I’m positive that they’ll both be there in abundance. And there won’t be a line.

End Blog.

The Silver Bullet

The luge is the strangest sport around. Not that I’ve thought about all the sports around, but, hurtling yourself down a really hard, super twisty ice hill at speeds over 80mph is just insanity. And not only that, but you’re lying down, on your back, in a position where you can’t really see where you’re going all that well.

Then there’s the commentators telling me that the competitors need to relax and absorb the bumps in the track to go faster. Are you kidding me? Relax and go limp at 85 mph? I can’t even do that when I’m riding as a passenger in a car going that fast on a twisty mountain road. With a seat belt and an air bag in really good weather where there’s some security that I’m not about to die.

And Armin Zoeggeler of Italy is the craziest of them all. Not because he goes the fastest, not because he won the gold medal, not because he crashed during practice and continued to compete… but because of his super shiny silver helmet. What in the world is this man thinking? Doesn’t he have someone in his life to tell him it was a bad idea?

I want to rip that helmet right off of his head.

What’s the reason for that ugly, gaudy thing anyway? He’s a gold medalist. He got one last year. NOT that I want the helmet to be gold. That would be worse. That would be like the gold running shoes of that track star guy… whatever his name is. Why can’t he have a nice black one? Something normal. All the other lugers at least understand that if they die flying down that hill, at least they won’t die in a really awful shiny silver helmet.

End Blog.

Thwarted

My plan to influence the Neilson ratings single handedly has been found out. This is what happens when you post your secret conspiracy plans online – Your cable goes out. Let this be a lesson to all of you.

How will I ever be able to watch all of the Olympics coverage now? I’m not, that’s how.

Every single channel is static.

I’d blame the crazy winter storm, except at this point in time we only have minimal amounts of snow. The weather forecasters must know the Olympic opening ceremonies coordinators. I bet they all swim in liquid crack together on a regular basis.

End Blog.

I Don’t Watch Sports

But I love sports movies.

There, I said it. Why? Because at the end, during the big final game where they’re struggling to win (but in the end always do) - I get goosebumps and have to hold back tears. I’m so proud of them, those fictional underdogs.

And this is why the Olympics rock. Maybe not so much the actual events, but the stories of struggle that show how people got to the most challenging, prestigious sports championship of their lives where they get to put their skills on the line against all the other people at the pinnacle of the sport from all over the world… that’s what I like. It’s like hundreds of mini sport movies played on TV for a few weeks.

Really, which sport doesn’t matter. I could care less. I’ll watch speed skating. I’ll watch downhill. I’ll watch bobsledding. I’ll watch curling. I’ll watch ice skating. I’ll even watch women’s ice hockey even though there’s no body checking.

I watched the biathlon. (It was on this morning.)

Okay, Now I have your attention. Now you understand.

I will watch whatever they put on. In 2004, I watched race walking. The whole race. At 4am.

I love the Olympics. And I will watch extra to make up for all the people who only like the Summer Games. Take that!

Single handedly, I, Nikki Blackwell, shall influence the Neilson ratings and watch NBC, USA, CNBC, and MSNBC any time they’re showing Olympic coverage.

And do you want to know why? Because the policy of some of those channels is that anytime the US is playing, there will be no commercial interruptions. Do you know how much hockey games rock without commercials?

I do.


End Blog.

Star Studded Event

Whoa... what happened? All of a sudden there are celebrities all over the place. Susan Sarandon, Sophia Loren, Yoko Ono, Peter Gabriel. Isn't the Olympics about sports? I forget.

But let's just talk about the people on wires climbing about for a moment. I know they were supposed to look like snowflakes. My head understands that much. But, you know what? They were creepy. And they looked like spiders in complex webs. Being creepy.

Even when they made the dove at the end... it was creepy.

Creepy Spider people on wires. Obviously plotting against me. Damn those crackheads. They take my demands and make them into something from nightmares. Someone was on a bad trip. Maybe they also took some acid or something.

Meanwhile... wouldn't it be funny to see one of these last torch bearer people fall while they were running? I mean, horrible for them, but I'd laugh all the same. Probably the flame isn't supposed to fall on the ground either. I suppose it's a good thing no one fell.

Anyway, I think the lighting of the torch was worth the wait. Sure, it was really fast, but it was fancy and flashy. I like things that sparkle. *places stamp of approval on the lighting* Good job.

Plus, the fireworks were cool. The spiral around the stadium? Totally looked like a slinky in the air. Now that's something I can get behind... a slinky event.

Think if you lick a slinky in the snow your tongue would stick?

Okay... with that thought, I'm going to bed. But I'd like to state for the record that the creepy spider snowflake people will most likely haunt me in my dreams for the next lifetime. Not even slinky fireworks can erase that image.

End Blog.

Oh My God, There's MORE

I posted prematurely. I don't know what I was thinking. There's more crackpot mayhem on TV now.

A woman in an oyster shell. I want to make a joke about her hidden pearl... but am refraining. A floating sun and moon with people attached and hanging from wires. A man who's become the embodiment of the human circulatory system. A racecar (spelled the same frontwards and backwards). Think about this... a racecar at the Olympics... doing doughnuts. For no discernible reason.

None of this makes sense.

Although, I'm no longer disappointed by the lack of people hanging by wires.

It's as if I can speak to them and they can hear me.

I half expect someone to run around with the Shroud of Turin. Top that Crackheads. The Shroud of Freakin' Turin.

Viva Torino!

End Blog.

Crack Pot Olympics

I’m excited to watch the opening ceremonies of the Winter Games tonight. Because I like to marvel at how the people who created and choreographed it must have been on crack.

So, as I’m waiting for them to start, I’ve decided to start this blog so that I can give you a play by play. Now, as a person who is not on crack, it is likely I will not understand what the hell is going on. Crackheads, bear with me. Your world is strange and new and I only get a brief glimpse of it every other year.

It has commenced. I believe they’re showing me that the Olympics is like a giant flaming roller derby. Somehow. And it’s changed into a giant kidney. And the rocketeer made an appearance.

Then it started to snow and these men played the big Ricola horns and they called upon the giant walking, dancing Christmas trees. Which lead to dancing cows. Because cows get happy when the trees dance. Don't look at me like that. This is crackpot logic. You have to just go with it.

This must be top quality crack.

Why is there always lots of fire and ice used in the opening ceremonies? I’m just waiting for the ice to melt. Although, I do enjoy the contrast.

Okay, so we’ve changed over to silver clad, disco miners with lights strapped to their foreheads.

And… I… can’t even describe what’s going on. People are making a picture of a man ski jumping. He’s animated. I might have to say this is the coolest thing a crackhead’s ever done.

This is the coolest thing a crackhead’s ever done.

Okay, now this could get interesting. There’s scaffolding and many people tethered together. This is like a Madonna concert performance waiting to happen. And yet, it wasn’t. That was highly disappointing, my little druggies. All I got out of that was the Olympic rings. Maybe I’ve been to one too many Madonna concerts.

I suppose I can forgive them since my mind is still trying to wrap itself around the 900 people that made up one ski jumper. I think I had a flashback to drill writing in marching band and my head exploded. I’m pretty sure my drill would have been even better had I known about the power crack had on the final product.

So, let’s recap: in the crackhead’s mind, this is what the Winter Olympics means to us – It’s a flaming roller derby with dancing trees and cows, lots of fire, miners – possibly to supply the fires, and ski jumping. The Winter Olympics is all about ski jumping.

Good to know.

And the countdown begins… two more years until I get to see top quality entertainment on crack again.

End Blog.

I Statements... for fun

I am not: dead. Yet.
I hurt: people accidentally because I’m not as empathetic as I’d like.
I love: fiercely. And possessively. It’s probably unhealthy.
I hate: trying to be patient for six months.
I fear: that after all the work to make a new life, I’ll be unhappy and alone.
I hope: that moving to MO is the best decision I’ve ever made.
I crave: someone to love me back just as fiercely.
I regret: not taking more chances. You only live once.
I cry: easily. It’s sometimes a very bad thing when you can’t stop them.
I care: about my friends. My job. Where I live. Money. Stupid things that shouldn’t matter.
I always: drink Dr Pepper.
I long: for a companion. Possibly of the canine persuasion.
I feel alone: at night. When I can’t sleep. And it’s dark. And I’m alone.
I listen: to you. Really, I do! … Huh?
I hide: eggs at Easter. Well, I could.
I cause: forest fires.
I sing: at work. It’s annoying to everyone.
I dance: badly.
I write: when I have a genius idea and get excited about it. So, hardly ever.
I breathe: in and out everyday. Continuously.
I play: with water in the shower. I like water.
I miss: my college girls.
I learn: rather quickly. It only took me 18 years to realize that I could stop going to school.
I feel: lonely a lot.
I know: many useless things.
I say: things in my head that I’d never say out loud.
I succeed: by accident and luck.
I fail: myself probably everyday. But I also forgive easily.
I dream: about three things – water, cars, and dogs.
I wonder: about many things. I have a pretty curious nature.
I want: to win the lotto. I should play the lotto.
I worry: about moving. Daily.
I wish: that I knew the start date of this new make-believe job I sorta have.
I have: much to be thankful for that’s taken for granted.
I give: myself to my friends.
I fight: hardly ever. That’s lots of energy. I’d rather be passive aggressive.
I wait: to hear from KC. Everyday. Wait wait wait.
I need: a social life.
I live: for the little things, but mostly laughter. We should all laugh everyday.

End Blog.