The Jolly Good Olympics

(In honor of the recent London Olympics, this post must be read in a British accent for full impact.  Just do it, ye little buggar.)

When I was just a wee little lad before nodding off to sleep each night, I'd lie in me bed and dream 'bout going to the Olympics.  I videotaped the gymnastics and re-watched it time after time after time all day, everyday, all summer long.  It was brilliant.  I still have Dominique Moceanu's floor routine memorized.  And I still get all bleery-eyed when I watch Keri Strugg's infamous vault. 

The Olympics are special to me.  I love the drama.  I love the athleticism.  I love the competition.  I love the patriotism.  

I love the coach/athlete relationships.  

Remember when this jolly good bloke helped my little cheeky lass jump off a tower?  

 That pretty much makes her an Olympian.

I love the come-from-behind victories.  Especially when it's such a cheerio chap.  This guy is brilliant.

I love the team mentality.  These girls are simply darling and their moments had me on the edge of my seat and more than once crying hysterically.  There was so much excitement.  It was barking mad.

I loved the constant sightings of the British royalty tromping around London and snogging in the stands.

I loved this moment.  Like, I LOVED it.  (Although I do wish she would have put some trousers on.  I did see a wee bit too much arse this Olympic games.)

I loved the young talent that snuck in there and blazed it up.  And did it with class and dignity.     

I love the inspirational stories and the way the Olympics brings out the best in the human spirit.

Oh, the Olympics.  

I loved it.