Professionals Only

jcp-reallySo, I was watching some sort of national ice skating championship last night. Mind you, this wasn’t by choice. Women seem to like this stuff for some reason, and after months of football season, how much complaining can a guy get away with anyway? First, I’d like to point out that the competition was in Omaha. Yes, that Omaha. Nebraska, the ice skating capital of the world. Even the cows skate in Nebraska. It’s common knowledge. You might think they’d be a bit conspicuous, but unfortunately, that’s not true. They blend in way too well. Apparently in Nebraska, if you’ve seen one cow in an ice tutu, you’ve seen them all. This small fact makes dating and meat selection in Nebraska both slippery and tedious.

Before you get the idea I’m making light of figure skating, let me point out I’m sure I would fail miserably at the sport. The mere thought of attempting a triple jump on the slickest surface known to man while wearing razor blades on my feet makes me want to visit the emergency room.

“Sir, what seems to be your problem today?” they’d ask.

“I’ve thought about figure skating and broken a bone,” I’d reply.

To make matters worse, I have ankles like Gumby. And on top of the danger, I just don’t have the proper temperament. Instead of crying at low scores from the judges, I’d shout some choice word and throw my skate covers like boomerangs. The Russian judge would frown on that behavior, but I wouldn’t care and secretly I’d hope he got hit in the back of the head with my skate cover. The Australian judge and I would laugh at him. But none of these reasons are why I try to truly avoid even watching figure skating.

The truth is, every time someone falls on the ice, I can’t help expecting them to run over their own finger and slice it clean off. Someone falls, I look for red ice. Everyone “oohs” and worries how many points they lost on their score. Me, I’m counting digits. Two, seven, ten, thank you baby Jesus. Nope, skating should be left to the professionals and those with a careless disregard for their ability to pick up small objects or, you know, read Braille or something.

Source: David Swann