It's funny how after just ten minutes into watching the Olympics, my wife and I settle into our comfy at-home sofa judging routine. Like we're experts or something.
"You see that? She planted it! Rock-solid!"
"Ohhhhh, too bad. One foot out-of-bounds and a small hop on that last landing!"
Easy for us to judge as we sit in the comfort of home. Giving our fingers a real workout on the remote and hoisting beverages in wrist curls.
And we know it all, too!
"Ooooooh! A triple Sow-Cow!"
For the life of me, I have no idea what a "Sow-Cow" is. Pretty sure I botched the spelling there, too. But it's fun to bandy about like the announcers do.
"Gah. Can't believe it. The men's gymnastics team really botched it! They were terrible!"
Well, No, they weren't "terrible." Far from it. Just a sliver shy of excellent maybe. (But, really guys, you gotta quit "cupping." It's dumb. What's next? Bloodletting by leeches?) But that's what happens when you give people the freedom to judge at home. Kinda like how trolls feel protected by their (relative) internet obscurity. But without the nastiness and people getting their feelings hurt. Now would I ever tell the men's gymnastic team they were terrible to their faces? Hell, no! You see the muscles on those guys?
I mean, we all love the girls Olympics team, right? 'Cause they medaled like crazy and all that. And 'cause they're a cute bunch of little giggly girls. But there's no way I'd ever insult one of them. Any one of these "little girls" could beat the tar out of me. Using only their feet. Thank goodness there's no need to insult them. Even from the safety of my sofa.
Gotta get back to the closing ceremony now. Still a little more sofa critiquing to be done.