You might be a victim of OWS if you find yourself involved in any of the following activities:
Cranking up the theme from Love Story and getting lost in a little 'ice dance dusting'. You uncontrollably weep in the 'kiss and cry' area because you over-rotated your triple salchow around the easy chair. You have sexy dreams involving Dick Button.
Craving the need for speed, you careen across the kitchen floor in your homemade luge. Even though it is the fastest course you have ever raced (and you're certain the Canadians constructed it as such to give themselves the advantage!), you are ecstatic and grateful to have made it safely through the 50-50.
Insisting the thermostat stay at a chilly 35 degrees, you compulsively curl the family dachshund. You shout 'svamp-SVAMP' (you think it means 'score', but later find out it is Swedish for 'mushroom') as she slides into her dog food bowl. The dog now hides while you gaze lovingly at the untapped potential of your fancy granite counter tops. Stupid American dog claims curling bores her.....really?
If you are diagnosed with OWS, shake that snow off your ski goggles and seek help immediately! Save yourself. Me?.....it's too late for me. I'm preparing to 'drop in' the half pipe-I'm not talkin' tabacco.
2 comments:
So that's what Champ is suffering from, OWS. He's got all the symptoms (well except the first one, he'd never admit to that). I suppose I should intervene, but you see, I've been so busy circling laps around Bear in my running spandex with these bread knives strapped to my feet that I just haven't found the time.
That curling picture was HYSTERICAL!!!!!!
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