Olympic Sperrit: Part Deux

Part one here.

Gee, Iran, nice of you to let the women see out of their veils long enough to carry the flag. I know, I know. First woman to carry the flag. Historic. La Yen=misanthrope, remember?

Jog Alert: First Nationers Some are jogging. Some are sitting. Shame on you, non-Chinese joggers. You shame Olympic Ceremony jogging.

Costas: "You know what country doesn't suck at Winter Olympics? Lichtenstein. Suck it, South America!"

Mexico in the house! I mean--wait--which country do I root for?

Jog Alert: The Stay-Puft Canadians are picking up some FN slack. Phew.

Do we call the Netherland Athletes "Nederlanders?" Because then I will have to watch Three Amigos again. Which is always a great idea.

Costas: "There's always a connection, if you look hard enough." That was a direct quote. And absolutely sums up his commentary.

The Portugese look just like the Mounties! Fer Cute!

Hells Bells, there are a lot of countries. Most of which Costas will point out, stink at winter sports.

Matt Lauer: "Romania! Nadya Comaneche!" See above Costas Commentary Corollary.

Jog Alert: First Nationers up and jogging again! Way to go, naked wolf-wearing guy!

Costas: "Also, South Africa bites at winter sports! But they may get the Summer games!"

Spain looks good. Like the Spainish Should. The Fetus wants Churros y Chocolate, now.

USA USA USA! AKA Team Apollo Jacobellis Shaun White. Costas and Lauer are herniating their metaphors with glee. Also, the uniform looks like it incorporates the jodhpur. (Spell check says that is correct. I don't really believe it, but who actually owns a dictionary anymore? Not La Yen.)

Costas: "Canadians, as a group, are among the most welcoming people on earth. But I don't see any problem with them saying...and now we would also like to kick your butt." Direct quote from the Costas regarding how Canada is finally showing some Nalgas. (In Canada it is spelled "Naulgas."

W is not able to watch this...performance...by Nelly Furtado and Bryan "Nosferatu" Adams because he is being drunk dialed by a soldier of his. This happens at least once a month. If there were medals for drunk dialing, this soldier would totally get one. At least a silver. (The Costas Commentary Corollary IS true!)

La Yen trivia: I do a killer First Nation accent. True Story.

So the head White Sleestack is making his Cane of Light chase off the other White Sleestacks? And now there is a buffalo?

So the giant bear is like the Tower of Babel, and now the White Sleestacks are separated into different continents? Costas, I need you to translate this for me.

I think Sara McLachlan is singing a song from one of the Muppet Movies. Maybe the one with Gene Hackman. FYI: There is going to be a new Muppet Movie! Who has two thumbs and will be at the opening night show? LA YEN.

Seriously, how long is this going to last? My Dunkin Donut Munchkins are running out and it is getting boring. Where is Gilbert Blythe?

A flying, fiddling canoe! With a demon devil. Who is NOT Charlie Daniels. Why even do a demon fiddler who is not Charlie Daniels? Lame.

For I brief moment I kind of want to leave W for these punk rock fiddlers. Thank heavens the horror of RiverDance will stop me in my tracks. Because RiverDance is the antithesis of the Olympic Spirit.

Costas just interpreted the fiddle scene as this: "The director was super plowed on this Canadian Apple Jack and came up with this crap."

Seriously, this is making me nostalgic for the freaky Grecian Unitard Urns.

I love Joni Mitchell. But this floating kid has GOT TO GO. I hate him. And his freaky pegged flying jeans. AND his wheat fields.

Holy Mother of Pearl, there are now imaginary stallions running next to Floating Gilbert Grape. He is ruining Joni for me.

Costas: "This is no Beijing, but it will do."

Apparently other channels are showing this ahead of what I am seeing. I am watching NBC. I don't know what everyone else is watching, but I am irritated that I am staying up later than I have to. Do you see what I do for you, my seven readers? DO YOU? Send me donuts. And money.

Dear Gracious--please NO SLAM POETRY. NO SLAM POETRY. WHY DID NO ONE WARN ME? Canada, you have betrayed me again. I am now fashioning a pipe bomb out of donut holes.

The only thing worse than a poetry slam is a long speech about world peace. Light the freaking cauldron already. I think even Costas and Lauer are bored, because they have finally stopped talking. IOC speeches=nacho break.

I can't listen to long speeches in French without thinking of this:


Hey, KD Lang? White suits are not good on anyone. Especially you. But your voice is nice. What does it say that I want to look at Big Tomato more than you? Not anything good, that's for sure. Also, this is a really awesome song and all, but really depressing for the Olympics. Remember when Elliot Smith sang it? And then killed himself? Because that is all I am thinking about now. And how I want to LIGHT THE FREAKING CAULDRON ALREADY.

Opera Singer. Palate cleansing. I love opera singers. Because I can't ever understand their words, but it is okay because they have giant hair and giant voices. She is singing the Olympic Hymn which, I think, goes like this:
Bienvenue
Olympics
Big Hair
Big Tomato
A---Men.

One Minute of Silence. Observe.

And on to the Oaths. Where we vow to avoid Doping. But we can still say that "Something is Dope." But we cannot say that "Dope is Dope." In the words of that scary ventriloquist doll on the PSA ads in the California of my youth, "Say Nope to Dope and Ugh to Drugs."

CAN IT BE? THE TORCH?

Blah blah blah, famous Canadians, blah blah blah, Wayne Gretzky--WHOA, Great One, that is some SWEET botox. You absolutely cannot fool me. That is not your real face.

Luckily, the botox has saved Wayne from looking irritated with the malfunctioning cauldron. Silver Lining!

Cauldron lit! Looks like a hash pipe!

La Yen out. Thanks for the love, Bob!