Yes, the Dancing With the Stars. The thing that consumed my entire spring and most of my summer in a glittery haze of enough tassels and spray-tan and exposed midriffs to make a pageant mama proud. I am most excited about Carson and Anna, and here's why, in a DWTS commercial it won't let me embed:
Oh, those SHOES!
There's another commercial with Kym, of I've-written-her-in-lots-of-porn-and-oh-y
Anyway, I'm totally going to liveblog the premiere tomorrow, so you should come visit my LJ at 8 pacific and tell me to drink more.
In other news, Ted Williams on a disco ball, the Red Sox have forgotten how to play baseball. I think we need Ben Sisko and the Prophets to come down and explain how this game works. ("You hit the ball in between these two white lines. It's linear!") I successfully drowned my sorrows in Tom Brady being an alien from Planet Quarterback. I never watch football games early in the season, but I've watched the Patriots play both weeks now because I have to watch Hines play for the Steelers in case he, I don't know, arranges for the jumbotron to flash a marriage proposal to Kym, and then I feel dirty for cheating on my boys in blue. So thank you, DWTS, for making me a full-season football fan, and therefore taking over even more of my week!