This is one of the most repulsive, pathetic, embarrassing, tremendously upsetting shows of. all. time.
However, I did somehow end up watching 10 minutes of it tonight.
It was an accident. I swear. I got bored flipping channels and I'd already watched all my pre-recorded shows (Ellen, Big Bang).
So I got stuck watching what I thought would be at least tolerable, if not mildly entertaining (in a I-have-low-expectations kind of way).
Well, it started out badly, to say the least.
The first guy should so NOT have been dancing (if you can even call it dancing). Not only was he flailing and stomping around the stage like a drunk giraffe, but he was doing it with a hooker-looking girl wearing a black bra and red ruffly underwear with big hair and more red lipstick than should ever be concentrated in one place.
Some cute young guy (dancing with yet another little blond thing) said he didn't know how to be "charming".
|No, I don't know his name.|
Born in the 90s?! What the eff.
It was at about this moment that I covered my face and lowered my head, wishing that I had known better than to watch this show in the first place. Seriously.
Hubby: "That hits you hard, eh?"
Hubby: "When somebody you think might be around your age says they were born in the 90s, that sucks."
Me: "Oh my god..."
Hubby: "That means he has to be at least 6 years younger than us."
Me: "He could have been born in 1999. He could be 12 years old."
And that is why you should never succumb to your laziness and end up watching Dancing With The Stars.
Apparently, Hubby's alternative television programme is a much better choice.
The Jersey Shore.
Someone save me.