Olympics

The Olympics always make me cry. I know, weird. The first time I remember crying over them was in 1996 when Kerri Strug twisted her ankle but won the gold anyway. But I cry over much more mundane stuff than that, too, like when Ireland got its first swimming medal. I cry sometimes when people mess up and cry themselves, and I cry when they win and look really happy. At least I've never cried over beach volleyball. In fact I try hard not to watch beach volleyball, but NBC doesn't make this easy.

I'm not sure why this happens, since I'm neither a very teary nor a particularly empathetic person normally, and I grow more cynical about the Olympics with each passing four years. I didn't actually watch much of it this year, apart from tae kwon do, partly because most of the time when I turned on NBC they were showing beach volleyball, basketball, or, at one point, the early miles of the women's marathon. If I were to award a gold medal for tearworthiness, it would be to Su Li-Wen of Taiwan, who fought a bronze medal match with a bad knee, and came awfully close to winning before her Croatian opponent kicked her in the bad leg, then later scored during sudden death. She was a real trooper, but she was sobbing when her coach gave her a piggy-back ride out of the gymnasium. It's here, at around 44:00.

Local flavor

I pass this coffee shop every day on my way to the Metro, and it's always got some quirky message for me, usually ending in an exclamation mark. One of my favorites: "We have cupcakes!" Lately they seem to be less about advertising specific Pound offerings, though, and more philosophical. One day it was "A powerful city deserves powerful coffee!", and yesterday, "Waking up and facing Monday beats the alternative" -- would that be considered existentialist?

Sadly, I've never actually gone in to Pound. I'm not much of a coffee drinker, and even if I were, Metro doesn't allow drinks. And the place closes in mid-afternoon, so I can't stop in on my way home. I suspect Pound caters mainly to ATF agents, construction workers, and XM employees. No wonder they're quirky.

Bus rage

I interrupt my long blogging hiatus to bring you this story (with a strong warning that it is NSFM - not suitable for mealtime).

Three thoughts:

1. This story is a week old. How did I just hear about it today? Are my friends too tasteful to post it on their Gmail Talk status lines?
   
2. Whoever dreamed up this ad campaign had clearly never ridden a Greyhound bus, or been anywhere near a terminal.
3. Wow.