The return of the Flaming Rollerbladers! Whew. For a minute there I thought things were going to get classy.
It is only through great force of will that I am not making fun of the outfits worn by the Italian military band, because that would be Culturally Insensitive.
Aah! Clowns with band instruments! Playing YMCA! How did they get into my nightmares? And do the adorable but rythm-impared children dancing to it know that it’s about going to said institution to pick up other men? (Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course.)
I think the entire population of Canada is here. Either that, or they dressed all of the athetes in their clothes.
Useful fact of the day: Italians invented confetti. Their mothers must be so proud.
Flying a person over a giant fan: seriously cool. Stupid, but cool.
Speeches by local dignitaries are much better when you can’t understand them.
Looks like they could have done a bit better on security. Too bad about the microphone.
Hey, look! Imported Mounties!
The Canadian presentation: Because nothing says international excitement like ice fishing. And Legos, naturally. And Avril Lavigne. (And, yes, I am kind of embarassed that I spelled that right on the first try.)
I’m just going to assume the parade of child brides has some kind of significance that I’m missing here. Seriously, they must have cleared out every Goodwill in Italy.
There goes the torch. I was hoping for some kind of giant candle-snuffer.
It’s always kind of sad when the Olympics end, but I was ready for it. I don’t even want to think about how many hours of tv I have watched in the last two weeks, but I do know that I have developed a surprising affinity for biathalon, a deep indifference towards ice skating and an unhealthy obsession with Bob Costas, and I think that means it’s time to stop.
I am so going to Vancouver.