I'm Obsessed

I don't think the doctor understands that he cannot keep me here until 7 pm. I don't think he understands that the athletes NEED me. I don't think he understands that if I miss a second of prime time Olympic coverage, I might die.

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I have been eating, drinking, and sleeping the Olympics since they started last Friday - if I'm not watching them, I am reading about them on the Internet, or talking about them while spit flies from my overly excited mouth.

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I tried to entreat the doctor's wife to talk about it with me the other day when she said, "I don't watch the Olympics. I hate sports."

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Gasp. Did she just say she hates the Olympics? Who hates the Olympics? I felt the need to jump on my desk and condemn her for her blaspheme and then place my hands on her head and exorcise her sports-hating demons.

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Maybe if she could see my passion, she would come to understand.

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I have actually stood and screamed during races. As if they can hear me AND my constant commentary. I feel so important - so needed - so intelligent...even if I have no idea how on earth they come up with those gymnastics scores. The only way my life would be better is if I could watch NBC and ALL of it's affiliates SIMULTANEOUSLY.

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I'm totally one of the team.

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So, people who already don't call (and who I don't call), don't expect anything until the Olympics have come to a conclusion. The only way we can talk and be friends is if we are talking about or watching the Olympics.