Staying up to midnight to watch the Olympics has been an indulgent pleasure. I love the Winter Olympics even though I personally have never done one single one of them in my life.
I have lived in Georgia all of my life --- there just aren't that many luges, ice skating rinks, or high hills to ski down -- in fact, the Winter Olympics are as foreign to me as Japanese animation movies or wearing a size 4.
Not part of my realm.
For the last three nights, I have stayed up to midnight to watch the men's moguls, the pair figure skating, the snowboard cross, and then last night I found myself watching the men's single figure skating.
I don't know why -- the outfits alone sent David to bed.
It had something to do with the Russian Plushenko and his arrogant, cold war stare at all the other contestants. I just wanted someone else to beat him.....
Then came the parade. It became like a parade. First the Japanese Takahashi who was terrific -- but his Michael Jackson/Elvis/Dracula outfit made me go ... "huh"?
I applauded him because his score rivaled, but did not exceed the bloody Russian, but it did make Plushenko shift in his seat, the seat he had taken in the stands with his girlfriend.
I know that the little vignettes that NBC tells about the athletes humanizes them more, but I dunno, he was just too ....... above it all.
The cold war is over -- except on the ice. No pun intended, of course.
When is it that the outfits became so distracting? I guess I have fallen asleep in years before the outfits became so ----- flamboyant, radical, and weird --- the pink tassel, the feathers, the zig- zag transparent up the arm, Hamlet's vest, see-through gloves, and then ....... lightning bolts?
I got the outfit kind of fits the music. I get the artistic expression.
But, the two guys from the USA -- Weir (pictured to the left) and Lysacek (pictured above) -- I was like --- are the American male performers channeling Adam Lambert?