More Talking Pictures

What day is it? Who cares?
I'm getting that familiar treadmill sensation just like in Torino and Beijing. It's like being transferred to the moon. "Worse hours, better co-workers." (David Was). Pleased to report we do have some sponsors. Listen for me on "Great Olympic Moments...brought to you by Sham Wow."
It is pretty drizzly here, but just as stunning as I remember it.
Also glad to know I'm still taller than Scott Hamilton. haven't seen Costas yet but I'll check.
3 Days until the restrained Canadian Ffabulousness of the Opening Ceremony. Tell everyone you know to watch. We're 250 mil in the hole not counting my servibar. Plus, deep down you know you'd secretly love to be Canadian.
Dick Ebersol shook my hand and said "Glad to have you back." He knows who I am. Now I'll really have to watch my ass around here!
Must go sell more breath...'Bye

It's The Video Future

Thanks to the generosity of Peter Steep, I have obtained the use of a Flip camera. Which means less typing for me, and more motion to mesmerize you folks who have lost the ability to absorb the written word. herewith, a few moments sure to have Ed Murrow and Jim Mc Kay rotissing in the hereafter. (I know...rotissing is not a word.)

Fill 'Er Up

Here's the most scenic, but poorly located Chevron station on the planet.

It's Sunny! Don't Drink The Toilet Water.

Spent last evening at Rodney's. It's a rollicking place (and how often can you say that?)
Great oysters, native BC wines and lots of fun. Thanks, Howard!
Loved this sign over the urinals at the IBC..."Just in case you were thinking of drinking the water from this urinal, don't." Thanks for the advice.
Here are recent views... just like Torino, they have palm trees here.

Westward, Ho!

The good news: I'm here.
The bad news: My camera spilled out of my bag in the dark onto the floor of the car service Town Car.
The good news: I'm a great tipper so the driver turned it in.
The bad news: You'll have to make do with my cellphone pictures unless I spend for a new camera while I'm here.
The good news (for me):
I'm going to watch the Super Bowl now, them I'm going to dinner at Rodney's Oyster Bar.

Night Before Depatrure

I'm packed and ready, except for the getting up at 4am part
Off for a pint of mead with cronies. Some of whom are taking the same flight.
Air Canada's hangover express.
Will report on arrival.

Yours,
Me

Cold, But Cool

Quebec City. Temperature, -17.
One week until my Olympic servitude begins. They say it's FIFTY degrees in Vancouver.
Mary and I spent the weekend at the Quebec Carnaval...which, as you may notice they have misspelled. I pointed it out to them but they just laughed.
Morons.
There was snow sculpting, an Ice Palace, rock hard frozen samples of Kraft cheese, and a ride down a snow covered hill on a river raft with total strangers who couldn't even speak American.
Not to mention having the numbness of cold penetrate you to your core as your glasses fog and your nose feels like it is on fire.
Ironic. The fire/ice thing.
It was so cold, the St. Lawrence was steaming in agony as it surrendered it's liquidity. Also,
the Chateau Frontenac was worth the trip...especially in our ancient attic room. The young woman who gave us a touur was proud to mention that previous guests included Winston Churchill, Frankin D. Roosevelt, and MS. CELINE DION!
Eat your room tempperature hearts out, mere mortals.