Cry Baby

I am a crier.

I am sure those of you that have been reading along for a while now are nodding your heads and saying something like, "No shit, Mistress of the Obvious," but I just like to earn my keep around here letting y'all know what is going on.

And I cry. I cry at commercials (God, the one with the Grandma and the baby and the Cheerios? KILL ME). I cry during movies. I cannot listen to country radio anymore, in part because of songs like this. I am sure everyone can imagine how I am during the Olympics.

I love the Olympics. More than is probably healthy. I especially love the obscure sports--it feels like those competitors are more excited about the Olympics than anyone else. I am amazed by how hard they work. I even like some of the human interest stories--I mean some of them are ridiculous but if you cannot root for a guy who broke his back than you have no heart. I know that NBC plays up the angles a little too much, to the point that you wonder if people have to go out and shoot their dog to get on camera but seriously, people are amazing.

What is even more amazing is watching all this stuff on Ti-faux so that I don't have to listen to Bob Costas drone on.

I only have two votes for haircuts so far, please tell me what you think--ask your husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend what they think because I mean obviously this is the most important thing happening on the internet today. I'll just be sitting on my couch watching the Luge and waiting for you to chime in (side note, the only thing I hate about Blogger is that I don't get the email addresses to reply to comments so just know that I appreciate people who comment so much) and bawling every time some one wins a medal.