Olympics confession: I love curling

Except curling. I mean, we are so hapless in that sport it would have been like cheering for the third dog in a two dog race. So instead I got totally wrapped up in the Canadian women’s curling team. I couldn’t explain the scoring even if I were at gunpoint, but I found the sport oddly captivating; all that super-slow-motion sliding around, those wild slipping shoes the teams wore, and all that crazy sweeping. It looks like a game you’d see played in an insane asylum, but I really like it and wouldn’t mind giving it a shot. The Canadians are practically our cousins anyway, aren’t they? And forgive me, but that Cheryl Bernard? If we ever play Red Rover, Red Rover with the Canucks, make sure you tell them she’s the one we want sent over. Man, she was cooler under fire than Steven Seagal.

Anyway, the Canadian women were edged out of the gold by the Swedes in some sort of indecipherable last-minute brilliance. Again, I can’t begin to explain what happened, only as they say in Sweden “yit souockes!” (Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s not how they say it; but what I lack in knowledge of other languages I make up for with reckless enthusiasm.) Now I guess I’ll cheer for the Canadian men’s curling team.

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