Have you met my ranting Grinch?

Mine though, is an Olympics Grinch. I don't go ca-razy over the summer Olympics, and I care even less about the winter ones. I mean, I could really care less if they EVER EVEN HAPPENED. The only shining moment in my Olympic-related memories was seeing Mary Lou Retton get a 10 on her vault routine in '84. (It ws '84, right?) Then I met her at Astroworld the next summer, or so, and got her autograph. At 10 years old, I was almost as tall as her. I was starstruck!

I hold no feelings for the Winter Olympics other than irritation over my regular programming being interrupted--for goodness sake, it seems as though ESPN has taken over the world for 2 weeks. I almost cannot turn my head without hearing or seeing some reference to the games. And like a computer without a screensaver, the Olympic rings have burned their image into my weary, weary eyeballs.

So, tell me that I am horrible for not liking this worldwide obsession that comes around an all-too-frequent-every-2-years! I prefer 2 weeks of Wimbledon, or a Lance Armstrong-led Tour de France. Now that's something I can get behind and cheer for. Tell me that I am an unpatriotic pessimist lacking love of competitive sport! Tell me that you'll never read my blog again because I have an unpopular opinion! Just tell it to my Olympic Grinch, he don't take no gruff offa noooooobody.

(Post Publication note:
I am sorry if this admission has shamed my family and caused spontaneous rioting in light of my anti-Olympic statements.)