Bring on Vancouver!

I was very disappointed, as I suspect were many of you, with the performances in the ladies' free skate last Thursday. I mean, I went all day without getting spoiled. I was careful to only watch the Game Show Network and sleep, which is an atypical day for me. I didn't even blog so that I wouldn't accidentally navigate to WaPo or NYT or CNN and get spoiled (I understand that my brudder Eric got screwed by the WaPo. I maintain that he should sue for emotional damages.). So, I was very disappointed that the medal ended up going up to the girl who screwed up least. Not that the Japanese skater's performance wasn't lovely. It just lacked a certain passion, as my boy Dick Button would say. Dick and I like to go to the dance halls together and let me tell you: two-beer queer. But anyway, I digress.

I was really angry with Sasha. You could see in her eyes as she skated out on the ice that she knew she was going to fall. It's kind of like when my eyes get all huuuuuuge and my pupils get ginormous and you know I'm going to leap on your head from behind the couch. That's exactly how my girl Sasha was telegraphing her imminent failure. I felt bad for her -- that would never happen to me. She should have turned into Crazy Eyes McGee like me rather than into Doubty McDoubterson. It would have helped her -- she could have four-footed a landing rather than two-footing it.

If Sasha couldn't win, I really wanted the Russian girl with the sick mom and the awesome last name to win. She was pretty cool. The one bright spot was the happy-go-lucky performance of my fellow shelter cat Emily Hughes. She's gonna be one to watch in four years, mark my words right here and now. Shelter cats DOM-IN-ATE!

All in all, the lack of Kwan, the failure of Johnny Are-you-Weir, boy? and the total women's chokefest all around really left me, Aunt Libby and my mommies feeling unfilfilled. Bring on Vancouver!