Women's figure skating gets under way tonight. One of the pieces of advice I always offer to newly married men is that they develop at least a tolerance of figure skating.
It can be a trick to do that, admittedly. Obviously one can amuse themselves with rude thoughts of Sasha Cohen, but you want to be careful about doing this across the board; you may need to do a good bit of research. You don't want to sit there thinking rude thoughts about some 16-year-old girl -- God will strike you down:
"Hey, I can think of a way to put that flexibility to good use. Gah! Suddenly I have a sharp pain in my left arm... can't breathe..."
You're better off just watching for the same reason anyone watches NASCAR -- the crashes. There is something maliciously satisfying about the sight of a mentally unstable anorexic smacking against the ice.
Every time I watch figure skating, I promise myself that I will come up with a good drinking game for watching figure skating, but then I don't. So far all I have is this:
- Drink when someone falls.
- Drink for every missed revolution on a jump. For example: if someone turns a triple into a double, take one drink; if someone singles a triple, take two drinks.
- Drink every time someone claims the new judging system is confusing.
- Drink every time a commentator evokes the name of some obscure former skater.
Obviously, just with these four, you do not want to be drinking hard alcohol.
If I were Conan O'Brien, I would have Sasha on my show and spend the whole interview eating Little Debbie snack cakes.
According to Astrid, The Netherlands really is crazy about speedskating. Wow. The things you learn thanks to blogging.
Best punk music lyric I've heard today: "When in Minnesota... you got a drinking quota."
When Franklin Crow comes to visit, you had better have enough toilet paper, bitch. Otherwise you're going to get kicked in the fuck.
Most amusing mugshot I've seen this week. He looks like an 18th century rogue who's been pushed off a cliff.