I decided locking myself in this room until the Olympics were over was just a plain old bad idea, so I got up this morning and went to work. In my travels, I pulled up to a red light behind one of those multi-colored panel mini-vans that first set tires to pavement when Duran Duran still mattered. I quickly noticed that the rear of the vehicle was slathered with bumper stickers that proudly proclaimed intelligent things like "Hell is full, so I came back," and "Caution: Driver doesn't give a s%*t." I took a look through the back window of this luxury ride, and noticed a handicapped parking permit hanging from the rearview window. As the light turned green and the van slowly turned left, cutting off people coming from the other direction, I saw that the driver was a woman weighing approximately four thousand pounds. For some reason, I was consumed with rage and it took every bit of my will power to refrain from chasing her down, running her off the road, pulling her from the vehicle (if this were even possible) and beating her to death with a tire iron. I sit here now, wondering not only why I became so angry with this pathetic creature, but also why I did not follow through. Probably because I only had fifteen minutes to get back to the office and I really wanted to grab a Tim Horton's coffee beforehand. The drivethrough at that time of the morning is a bear.

I actually broke down and checked out the big stories in the Olympics. And things seem to be going just dandy for the US over in Italy. Let's see... the men's hockey team, which is loaded with NHL players, can't even make the medal round, that figure skating broad falls on her butt twice and somehow still gets the Silver (explain that to me), our drunk skiier dude gets so hammered he can't even keep himself from "straddling the gate," which sounds like some sort of weird sex act, and now it looks like it may take some sort of miracle for us to catch frigging Germany in the medal count. Germany! If you can't beat Germany, you may as well pack it in. Now that's the last I mention the Olympics in this blog. Ever.

Oh, and my top ten list of TV shows, on which I could only come up with 8, I forgot to mention CSI, which is still a hella cool hour, and still surprisingly mean spirited and gruesome. Long Live Gil Grissum!