My best friend Deirdre (Ms. Fitzpatrick, if you’re nasty) has been covering the Olympics for NBC the last eight years.

Lucky bitch.

She’s stalked Michael Phelps and high-fived Apollo Ohno.  Yes, she’s seen it all … and reported on it for America to enjoy.  The Olympics brings out a wry and wily sense of humor in Deirdre.  She finds the most absurd things to report on … and manages to make it wildly entertaining.  (Either that or her producer is on crack.)

Honestly, I don’t know how she does it.  She reports from the break of dawn to midnight occasionally and then does it all over again the next day.   She should be used to that with her kids, but at least she can afford to look like hell around them.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oerv52v7DDo&feature=player_embedded#

A few years ago, Dre would wear a sign on her back that said, “I’m not Katie Couric, dammit”.  People would see her reporting or anchoring and just naturally assume they were in the presence of the former “Today Show” anchor.   (Keep in mind they look nothing alike.)

The thing I like most about watching Dre’s reports is that she gets it.  She’s an athlete by nature.  Girlfriend competes in marathons and triathlons, and, whether or not she admits it, she is wildly competitive.   One of the coolest things I’ve seen her do is to carry the Olympic torch while it zigzagged California on its way to the Salt Lake City Olympic Winter Games.  Sure, it was only about fifteen feet, but who cares?  Who else do you know who’s gotten their greedy little mitts on that thing?

So while I’m here busy growing out my bangs, Deirdre is the world traveler bringing you reports on the best athletes in the universe … 16-hours a day, everyday.  Lucky bitch.