The Chronicles of Marge

The Results: Savage, Demanding, and Formidable…Also Stupid

America: You disappoint the hell out of me. I had a gut feeling that this would happen, and it was most upsetting that it occurred on an otherwise glorious results show. The guest dancing in this show reminded us all why we have faith in SYTYCD, even in its most tedious of seasons. It’s because of the hope for something like Bleeding Love or Mercy or the movement of someone like Will who makes you forget about everything in the room, even sound. And as much as Evan is a good dancer in his style, it was time for our little Frodo to take the boat to the Undying Lands. But alas, that was not the case, and Ade’s dismissal makes me feel a bit like I’ve been beheaded by an orc.

Oh well! Maybe Brandon will bring out the Man Panties again next week and erase all memory of Evan from the minds of my fellow voting Americans. And then there is the saving grace that Jeanine, my favorite girl of them all, is still hanging in there. Lil’ C seemed particularly glad about this too, and you know what they say about great minds.

A note about next week: As fate would have it, I will be gone for the finale. I know. When I realized this, I started to die a little bit inside and went straight to the freezer for a pint of Starbuck’s Java Chip to revive myself. However, do not feel abandoned, dear readers: the Guest Chroniclers are back! Kate and Melissa, my friends from Charlottesville and fellow SYTYCD fans, will take the helm. And if you are worried about their preparedness, have no fear. They are already working on what snacks to have on hand while they watch. 

SYTYCD: Top Six

Gosh I don’t feel like writing tonight. Is it the season in general or the red wine I had with dinner that is making me tired? I don’t know, but words are going to be hard to come by, so bear with me. I will say this, though: there may be no better way to watch the show than with a bowl—or three or four—of peach and blueberry cobbler. Thank you Doreen because two years from now, that’s what I’ll remember about Season 5’s Top Six.

On to the dancing: I really enjoyed Sonya’s choreography of both the men and women for what I’m going to start calling the Separation of the Sexes Numbers. My friend Doreen noted that Sonya always seems so proud and so excited regardless of how the dancers flit or flop across the stage. In tonight’s case, both sets of dancers really rose to the occasion. Although Lil’ C thought the women were a bit too courteous (apparently the didn’t eat the stage that was their bowl), I really enjoyed their superwoman number. And the men were totally buck in my book—all three of them.

Jeanine and Ade were partnered tonight. Their first piece was a samba in which the music and Jeanine’s costume were inspired by Lady Gaga. I don’t really remember much else about this dance, which may say it all. I do remember, however, wanting to love it because I think these two dancers are my favorite of the bunch left. They then drew a T&N hip-hop about being evicted. I’ve always struggled to really embrace the dances with props and very rarely do the props fail to annoy me (Mercy last year with Twitch and Katee being the exception—oh, and the table piece with Sabra and Neil from Season 3), so I took issue with the boxes, particularly when they treated them like shoes and I swear Ade got one caught on his foot but the camera then cut to a Jeanine-only shot. Anyway, well danced but nothing exceptional.

Melissa and Evan can go ahead and make their acceptance speeches for getting tonight’s award for Inability to Pick a Memorable Genre of the Evening. Sorry folks, but sock suspenders can’t really make Broadway any better. It was well danced, for sure, and the judges enjoyed, but it could have been bigger. After seeing Evan’s solo, my friend Melissa made a great point: Evan does so well in his solo work because he doesn’t have to share the stage with anyone. He can totally engage the audience without having to pay attention to a dance partner, and that is what makes him great. So when Evan draws Broadway and we expect Frodo to flea hop his way up Mount Doom and drop that ring in and be all “See what I can do all by myself, bitches,” we get a little bit disappointed when we realize that there’s Samwise Gamgee along for the ride too and putting a damper on the one-man show.

And if Broadway hasn’t become a near kiss of death this season, Melissa and Evan had to draw the actual kiss of death: The Quick Step. However, I will say this: regardless of Mary’s disappointment in this number, I was entertained. The music was good, and the choreography was good, and I won’t remember it next week, but it made me feel like someone was doing the grapevine across my heart while I was watching.

Which leaves us with Kayla and Brandon who had the best dance of the evening in the Stacey They-Stole-Me-From-SYTYCD-Canada (Damn Those Americans) Tookey contemporary piece. Lil’ C said it was “beyond amazing,” and it was. Brandon and Kayla were well paired and they brought strength and grace to some very beautiful choreography.

Their last number was a Doriana disco routine—you know, always the fastest and hardest disco yet on the show. The judges loved this, Lil’ C said something along the lines of “being out of your comfort zone represents…darkness…you have to go and befriend characteristics of your challenges and you have to see with your ears…and I see no darkness.” WHAT?? And also, why, oh, why so much praise for this? Are you trying to tell America to vote for these two, because the America sitting in my living room did not concur. We thought it got real slow at the end and Brandon even looked a bit wobbly. And those death drops: not so elegant. This compared not at all to the disco we saw earlier this season from Brandon and Janette, so the judges need to check that one out again on the youtube and retract the home run they gave this one.

Speaking of Brandon: his solo was pretty amazing; it even got a standing ovation from the judges (which I’m not sure they should be allowed to give for a solo but I am too tired to articulate why right now). And for all that low self-esteem Brandon said he had, I’m not sure what he was talking about because it takes a bit of self-confidence or INSANITY to get up there on stage on national television in nothing but some dance panties for men—let’s call them Manties—and show us almost all that you are made of. I’m not going to be a prude and say I didn’t enjoy it, but seriously, you’ve now made me use the word Manties on the Internet.

By Day Four

I'm having one of those weeks. It looks something like this:

• Monday: Jury duty. I sat in the judicial system's version of an airport lobby all damn day. The room even included bathrooms for both men and women. Of course, I was too nervous to use them because everyone in the room could see you go in and see you come out, and if that's not enough to shut down one's urinary and gastrointestinal systems, I'm not sure what is (actually... continue reading). So I just sat there and read (got all the way through the beach landings at Anzio), and I watched the same CNN news stories repeat every two hours (I swear, I can recite Sarah Palin's exit speech by heart now, which really makes me want to vomit a bit), and I overhead a fellow lady jury say very loudly that she had to reschedule her colonoscopy because of this judicial service. And I was all, lady, speak no more (this coming from a woman who isn't afraid to discuss her GI functions on the Internet). And then there was the guy wearing the flip-flops who proved why men should NEVER wear flip-flops. Dude: if you look down at your feet and don't think "My, those are swift and beautiful," then don't think any of the rest of us will. We won't. We will think they are gross and will wish to high heaven that we didn't have to sit behind you and your ugly-ass man toes in the jury duty room. Luckily, at 4 p.m. I was dismissed from service for the next two years.
• Tuesday: Car accident in from of my house at 9:15 p.m. A couple of teenage drivers were rear-ended by a much more "experienced driver" who didn't seem to see them and their turn signal. Quite frankly, when I heard it happen, I thought someone had brought out the firearms and the Summer of Rage in Durham was now on. I went to lock the doors, and then I went out to offer condolences and tomatoes to some poor teenage boys—yeah, because tomatoes are the first thing you want after you've been rear-ended by a jack-ass. I'm not sure what I was thinking. Anyway, now there's an immovable station wagon in my driveway that the neighbors have been demolishing in the hope of returning it to a state of movement. They got the bumper dislodged from the rear tires, but they can't get the engine started. The hood is up now. It looks like our driveway will have a new tenant for the night at least.  
• Wednesday: SYTYCD. I asked everyone to watch the show at my house because I thought my sister Katharine would be here. She just called 30 minutes ago to let me know she is still in NOLA and having difficulty making decisions. And I have am having difficulty with last-minute changes (and although I should still see her in a couple of weeks, I'm kind of sad now because seeing her is always an occasion on which I know I'll be happy).  
• Thursday: The entire Mathes family will be here. I love the Mathes family; I'm excited about seeing them. But on Thursday, I will be two days away from a multi-day Away-Toilet Situation, and I'm not sure that having a small child in my house who asks to have her ass wiped upon using the toilet is really what my colon needs now.  
• Friday: The pile has to go into the bag somehow. Please note: I am not a last-minute packer. The pile has been there for days, but it's getting it all to go into the bag that is the challenge. And I'm not even going to address the fact that Jason hasn't even started a pile, which makes me a little bit bitter—oh those Procrastinators of the world who end up calm, cool, and collected on the day of the show and no one even knows that they were up all night getting their shit together, whereas I show up on the day of the show well-prepared in advance but with bags under my eyes and a spot on my lower lip that makes it look like I've contracted some heinous venereal disease. And I'm not even joking about that spot on the lip because IT IS ALREADY THERE!  
• Saturday: I'm excited. Sleeping conditions: I'll take whatever. Cold showers: I'll just not bathe—I mean, most of my real vacations involve sporadic showering at best. But seriously, I will be 1 in a group of 11 with whom I will have to share a toilet. And only one of those 11 knows that by day 4 the possibility of contracting a case of the dreaded traveler's diarrhea will sound like a great idea to me. 

SYTYCD Episode 100

Okay, I'm really upset at myself because I spent the full hour of the 100th episode of this show writing about it while it was happening, and then at 10:02 p.m., I accidently hit delete, and it was gone and no amount of Command Z or SHOW THE PREVIOUS EFFIN' PAGE will recover it. And you all know what I said when that happened. I also might have yelled at my husband, and he might not be such a fan of the Chronicles or its writer anymore.

So what I said previously in a long and drawn-out real-time recap of this episode, I shall now say in a nutshell (meaning, like, five paragraphs for Marge): I love seeing past contestants. They make me feel like a Mama Mia too. I was nervous for them, however, because what if they had lost "it" or gained a few and weren't able to balance as they once had. Apparently, we didn't have to worry about that tonight. The Hummingbird and the Bench and Ramalama brought me to my feet and I think proves my point at why our current season lacks some luster. I mean, could you imagine Ramalama in season 5? I don't think so. Also, Wade Robson: you are wicked sick.

Is it me or is Katie Holmes not aging well? And was she even on the stage at all or was her performance all pre-taped? Jason said it best with a What the Eff Is This? Indeed. I mean, I would jump up and down on a couch too if it meant I could have legs like those, but other than that, her hype was not worth it. And was she pulling a Milli Vanilla up there—all moves and no sound? Or rather some moves and no sound? But I guess this is what we can expect from a lady who once made out with Dawson and now sleeps with Tom Cruise. 

On to results: It must be the Dawson Effect. Granted, Evan is not tall, blond, or obnoxious, but I think the teenage girls of America are succumbing to The Effect when it comes to Evan. And they are succumbing in droves. To that I say: kiss my grown-up ass, little girls. I can't wait until you see your first mortgage bill and realize that the Dawson Effect can do NOTHING to help you out there. 

Sad to see Jason and Janette go, particularly Janette, who actually had a personality regardless of her really bad curtain hair. It was an emotional evening all around. And I'm still brooding about losing that last post because it was a lot better than this one, which is doing nothing at all for my self-esteem. Oh, well.

SYTYCD Top 8: I Can Do That

I love Ellen DeGeneres. She may know jack shit about dancing—I guess she does come from the Toni Basil School of Street, so I should give her some slack—but she is absolutely hilarious and a nice breath of fresh air compared with Our Lady Mary who needs to remember that matching your dress with your skin tone is really never a good idea.

Anyway, our evening began with the return of Travis Wall, who choreographed the opening group dance. Two doses of Travis in one week—what more could a girl ask for? It was an interesting piece accentuated with fun costume lighting. And all that pride the judges felt at the success of our dear Travis...I felt it too, right there in my chest. 

So I'm going to discuss the couple dancing in order tonight, largely because of a comment Nigel made at dance #6. The evening did start off so-so and kind of boring. But then it exploded toward the end and made us all glad we were still awake. So I'll follow suit and begin with some really drab writing and hope to end up with something worth checking out at 3 p.m. while you take an afternoon Internet diversion at work, somewhere between reading about type 2 diabetes mellitus and constipation-predominant irritable bowel syndrome.

Evan and Janette began with a Sonya jazz routine. This was classic Sonya choreography—the lifts, the pointing of the feet, the dark outfits. I thought Janette did a really good job. Evan, to me, was flat.

Brandon and Jeanine teamed up for what was, in my opinion, a fairly horrid waltz. I love them both and wanted to love the dance, but it was, as the judges noted, the slowest waltz ever on the show.

Then we moved right along to a cha-cha performed by Ade and Melissa, who needed to work on some technique and strange lip puckering. My biggest critique, however: what was up with the fringe on Ade's shirt? Man Fringe should only be worn on chaps, people, while riding a horse through the backdrop of a spaghetti western, and should never be attached to the chest of one tall drink of cool water on a hot summer's day. No way. Not sexy. I don't need to see that again.

Jason and Kayla drew a Broadway piece by Tyce, and they danced it beautifully, particularly Jason. He really did have a Gene Kelly quality about him. Kayla was lovely as always, but her dress kept bothering me the entire time. It made her midsection look kind of puffy, and what woman ever wants her midsection to be described as puffy?

Evan and Janette returned for a rumba, which was okay in my book. Janette really does a great job at whatever she is given, and I think all of the shadows on the stage helped hide Evan's facial expressions, which were very Zoolander-esque. His face became a contentious point for the judges after Nigel commented on Evan's "heavy eyelids." Well at least he doesn't have bags under his eyes, I say!! And apparently Ellen and Mia were thinking the same thing because they both said lovely things about Evan's face and no one pointed out the fact that there on stage stood a grown man wearing a LONG-SLEEVED LACED SHIRT. Gosh.

And then the night came alive. We were introduced to a new choreographer, Laurieann Gibson (who, according to Wikipedia, is a former Fly Girl), and her version of pop jazz, which was really intense. If Jeanine and Brandon got slow and sappy with their waltz, they got fast and furious with this very synchronized piece that presented a lot of difficulty in that aspect alone. Nigel was beside himself with joy. Ellen said it made it "appealing to join some type of armed forces." Mary raved. And Mia called Laurieann her sister. My Jason noted that the choreographer asked the dancers to let go, and they did. And that is the best way to dance.

Another best way: with raw emotion, and I don't think Melissa and Ade left a dry eye in the audience with Tyce's contemporary piece about breast cancer. This was beautiful, and these really were the only two dancers on the show who could have pulled this off in a partnership. Ade's strength—pulling Melissa up by her wrists and straight into the air—and Melissa's ability to embody the story were exceptional. I don't recall ever seeing Nigel in tears before, but he held them back long enough to say it best about dance: it "can express so many emotions without the use of words." 

The night ended with one of the dancing loves of my life: Shane Sparks. Dude was back on track tonight, and any doubters out there who still think he's not up to speed with T&N are totally thinking twice on that. Nigel even went so far to say the he'd been disappointed by the hip-hop so far this season (which is the polite Englishman's way of saying, "T&N, you suck"). Kayla and Jason really rocked the zombie number right and ended the night on a great note for me.

Interspersed among all of the couple dances were solos, which I thought were greatly improved over previous weeks. Of special mention: Ade GOT AIR, Jeanine's was really creative, and Janette brought out the Celine Dion, which we haven't heard yet this season and which caused me to pump my chest with my fist. Had my sister Katharine been around, I would have been forced to break out into a rendition of All by Myself, complete with a French-Canadian accent and the occasional nose flaring.

Results tomorrow should be very interesting. If I had my druthers, I might see Kayla and definitely Evan go home. But after all these weeks, I've got a special place in my heart for each of our top 8, so there may be a Margaret Cry tomorrow night regardless of what happens.

Not an Invitation

Here's a frightening thing, but I just can't help myself: I'm going to write about people who may read this, and although I actually don't think anyone who reads my site is in question here, I just want you to know that we can still be friends. There are just a few NEW RULES TO FOLLOW, and I also think any socially inept person who reads this may benefit, so guess what: my Web site is finally doing something for the greater good of humanity. 

So we had our beer-drinking crowd over Saturday night to celebrate Jason's birthday. One of the Born and Bred Boys of Chatham County brought an actual keg of homemade brew hooked up to a CO₂ tank. Yeah, Jason and I sure know how to put on a high-class event. Anyway, I had a fine time, but it could have been better had a few rules and regulations been followed. 

Largely this: if everyone leaves the party and you are the last person standing, maybe it is time to go too. Also, when your hostess goes to the toilet and comes out wearing her featherweight plus glasses circa 1999, which she only wears in situations of extreme desperation or tiredness, maybe you should contemplate what that means. And finally, when your hostess starts clearing the dishes away and spends 45 minutes at the sink cleaning up after people who can't seem to locate a trash can or one of the two sides of the sink that sit right there in the kitchen—and by god, since we don't have countertops or cabinets it is not hard to find the sink, people—then maybe you should either pitch in and help or take that as a sign that the party is over and it is time to depart. Note to familial relations: you are exempt from this. I have no problems retiring for the evening and leaving any of you to your own devices in my house; you've all been there enough that you know where the door is and you all have a good track record of WALKING OUT OF IT. 

In addition, I'm not sure who decided to carry their kabob stick into our toilet, break it up into several small pieces, and leave it on the bathroom counter for me to discover later in the evening. To said individual: did you think, "My, that kabob meat stick is going to taste so much better if I eat it in the toilet in solitude"? Did you enjoy breaking it into tiny pieces while staring at your pores in the bathroom mirror? Did you not bother to look for a trash can in the kitchen? Hell, I'm surprised you didn't just PEE IN OUR SHOWER WHILE YOU WERE AT IT. 

World: that was not an invitation.   

SYTYCD Results: Travis and Wade All in One Week

Last night Travis. Tonight Wade. And a young woman's dream come true for the week. I haven't written about any results yet, but after seeing Wade's opening top-10 number, I just had to write. That man is brilliant—so Memoirs of a Geisha, so lovely, and such a great use of Melissa's ballet skills. That number was buck. 

Also buck, the fact that Cat Deeley can get away with wearing basically a sequined shirt and no pants on national TV. Anyone else would need to look into some gams, and granted if Cat drops her mike and has to pick it up, they may have to blur out some of her special lady parts, but this woman can think about that another day.  

(Note: I'm writing as I watch so let me interrupt myself with the following paragraph.)

Why the hell is Evan safe? I mean Brandon or Ade in the Bottom 2? That is a dump truck load of toilet trash in my opinion. Wait, let's see which one is in trouble...Ade. God bless. If Kupono and his halter top man-vest end up in the top 8, I might eat the rest of the cookie dough that's in the refrigerator—and folks, there is a lot there. I actually made an emergency stop at home this evening between work and volunteering to eat some of the cookie dough. Literally, I was home for 10 minutes. And literally, for 5 of those straight, I ate cookie dough. If I wonder next week why my bowels have ceased to function, just remind me of this. 

OMG: next week we get to see Season 2's bench routine and Season 3's hummingbird routine, AS WELL AS Ramalama—hot damn. This is why I don't suffer from depression in the summer.

Thank you Mary for telling Kupono to rethink his solo. I agree. That headless chicken dance is as repulsive as a pair of Uggs.

OK, BEPs performing. They are actually pretty entertaining and not gross, unlike some of the guest singers, and all are wearing bottoms of appropriate length. Nonetheless, I'm anxious. I just resorted to the cookie dough. I thought I was strong enough. Apparently not. 

Oh good. Melissa's still in. That's worth another spoonful to celebrate my relief. 

Praise the lord. No more half shirts, fits of glee, lists, or Mango moments. Also no more unitards. 

I think America got it right for our top 8. And gosh, that was a lot of raw egg I just consumed.

And Then There Was Travis

Fair warner readers: it's going to be difficult for me to write about anything other than Travis Wall, Season 2 Love of My Life and Reason That I Am Still Awake Right Now. But I think what happened with Travis tonight proves so much about why I love this show and why this show is important and why dance is important. Let's be honest: it's been a lackluster season. I don't care what the judges say about the caliber of the dancers and how this is ABSOLUTELY the best season ever. That's a crock of shit every time they've said it this season and they only say it because they are being paid to say it. And paid well. You see, Season 5, for all the glory that two weeks ago was, lacks a Twitch or a Joshua or someone with the legs and grace of Danny. We don't have a personality as big as Benji. We don't have the charm and beauty of a Sabra or Katee. We don't have a powerful b-boy like Dominic or a charismatic Latin dancer like Pasha. People can feel free to argue with me on this—comments are always open—but that's just as I see it. However, I stick with this show, even through its most tedious season, because of the hope that I will get to see something special, that I will get to experience the wonder of human creativity and movement and feeling in a way that walking and cycling and sitting at a desk do not present to me. And tonight, Travis brought that to the stage in what he gave his dancers, the lucky, lucky Jeanine and Jason, to work with.

I was in awe for the entire performance. This is the type of choreography that has been missing from Season 5 and is so desperately needed. This is they type of choreography that can challenge dancers to really reach their full potential both physically and emotionally. I've been waiting for Jason to impress me all season—I felt like there was a great talent somewhere in there but just hadn't seen it—and Travis gave Jason what he needs to be relevant in this competition. And Jeanine has slowly been growing on me over the past couple of weeks, but tonight solidified in my mind her status as my current favorite lady. So to Travis: well done. To the dancers: well done. And to Nigel and company for bringing Travis back in this capacity: I will be forever grateful.

To the people who thought dressing Randi and Kupono as if they were vying for an audition in the next Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, High Kicks on the High Seas: shame on you. That wig made Randi look like Mary Murphy in a brothel and that is a look to which no one should ever aspire.

To Tabitha and Napoleon: same choreography as always, but a few special tricks and the magic that is Ade got you by. Too bad he and Janette weren't in synch for a lot of the piece.

To whoever chose Kiss From a Rose as the music for Kayla and Evan's waltz: Nail. In. Coffin. For. Me. That song didn't do much for me when I was 16 and tooling around the western end of Davidson County with the windows down in my hatchback Geo Storm and pretending I was The Shit (and knowing I wasn't), so why would it do anything for me now?

To Tyce: One of your better Broadway numbers, but Melissa and Brandon are beautiful, so I would have expected nothing less from them.

A note on solos: I've had enough of the choppy movements (read: Kupono reenacts Mango from SNL circa 1997). I'm impressed more with controlled movements that show strength and skill in dancing and thought toward choreography (thank you Jeanine and Melissa).

And finally, a note on voting: Scared shitless that America will do something stupid. We'll see tomorrow if my fear is justified.

Newman

My dad called about 45 minutes ago to let me know that our dog Newman died tonight, and I feel the need to grieve through writing, so my apologies if this is disjointed and hard to follow.

This was not unexpected. Newman was old and losing his faculties, but the circumstances I envisioned for his death weren't exactly as it unfolded. There was an accident, but no one was to blame, although it weighs heavily upon my father, and I could hear it in his voice, which reminded me of the first of only two times I have seen my father cry, when our dog Victoria died, oh, 20 years ago. 

Newman was probably around 16 years old. We retrieved him as a very young dog from a retirement center where his owners just couldn't keep him. He came to us timid, unsociable, insecure, and named Brownie. Needless to say, we took care of the last one pretty quickly. I think it took Newman a little bit of time to adjust to his new situation, but he soon discovered two things: he had a home, and he had the best companion ever in my father. I know people the world over love their animals, but I've never seen anyone quite like my dad when it comes to pets. Animals love my dad. My dad has this way with animals that is very unique. He loves them tremendously and cares for them exceptionally, yet he refrains from treating them as if they are so precious that he ends up stifling their natural curiosities and instincts. Animals that live with the Family Ryalls always get a chance to live, even if it means fighting with copperheads, contending with neighborhood dogs, and sleeping outside most nights.

Newman was accustomed to all of the above and was allowed his curiosity. He was fascinated by tools and the workings of machines. He would watch my dad intently as my dad changed the oil in a car or cleaned the chain on a chainsaw. It was almost as if Newman had done these things in a former life and thought if only he had some opposable thumbs, he could jump in and help out. Newman loved to reach out and give you his paw. He loved it when we told him he was beautiful in Turkish—Çok güzelsin Newman. He loved riding in the old blue truck beside my dad when they went to the dump to take the trash. He loved going to Lowe's and following my dad down the aisles filled with plumbing parts or electrical wiring. He loved walking to the river or up the pipeline and would stay right at your heel—if my dad was in the group, it was his heel that Newman followed. 

Newman loved wearing bandanas around his neck and my guess is that the same brown one he's donned for months will go with him into the hole my dad dug for him in the backyard. And there he will rest with the other great friends who went before him—Amy and Detweiler, Daphney, Victoria, Joe, Freckles, and Rufus. 

You will be missed, my friend.

 

SYTYCD: Orange Juice and English Muffins

I’m really tired and I just realized that I have to write about 12 dances tonight, and I’m not sure how that’s going to turn out and if I can even make it through. Jason suggested I just pass on writing tonight, and I was all “Dude, there are like FIVE PEOPLE INCLUDING MY MOTHER who will wonder if I have died if I don’t write about this show.” And yes, my mom has known about this blog for a few months now, and yes, I was so mortified when I discovered this truth that I went out in the back yard and dug myself a six-foot hole under the old oak tree and laid myself down for a nice long rest. But then I got hungry after about 30 minutes and decided I could live with the help of a bag of Ghirardelli semi-sweet chocolate chips.

On to some dancing…or rather Cat Deeley’s totally buck LBD. I have never seen this woman look so lovely. At first I thought she had cut her hair into a delightful bob, but upon further inspection, my friends and I think she just has a stylist who has a talent with bobby pins. Either way, I love you more now than ever, Cat, and I want that dress.

This is our last evening with our paired couples, and tonight each couple performed two numbers. I am going to comment on both of their dances together, and for those of you married to chronology: well, you can bite me. 

Melissa and Ade opened with a Doriana disco. I thought this was a great dance—not as strong as the Brandon and Janette disco, but well done anyway. I will say, however, that I thought Ade looked a bit uncomfortable, but he did a fine job, and at the end of the day, he wasn’t the one who fell on their ass. But who cares, it endears these two to me even more. Their final piece was a waltz—definitely more free in its choreography than we’ve seen in other waltzes. I thought it was lovely and well danced, but I also agreed with the judges that Ade needed to work on his footwork a bit. So finally, the man with the hair pick has a chink in his armor, but there you go. 

Kayla and Kupono and the Man Cry of the evening. I guess addiction can do that to you, so I’ll forgive him. The consensus in my viewing group gave this Mia Michaels piece the highest praise of the night. I’m going to go against the group and put this as my #2 dance, simply for reasons you later will discover (read: WADE ROBSON). Mia really did a great job with the choreography, and I think the dancers were superb. The synchronization between these two is the best on the show and the way that Kayla lets her body be thrown around is amazing and would probably put me in the hospital, which is why she’s on the show and I’m not. My favorite part of this dance was the grabbing bit—well played people. Their next number was Broadway, specifically the school dance scene from West Side Story. I thought it began really strong but then fizzled. The entire time I kept thinking about that gym full of Sharks and Jet and how this just needed more. Do you blame the dance or the choreographers for that? I think the judges blamed the dancers for it.

And now a bit about costuming. Why would you ever put a beautiful (although slightly squint-eyed woman with far too heavy bangs) in a sequined flapper top and a humungous green skirt that reeks of Fashion and Style Tips from Better Homes & Gardens circa 1952? Sane people would not do this. Particularly when it basically ruins what otherwise would have been a respectable fox trot. The judges somehow were able to see beyond the skirt and liked this dance, but I don’t think America was able to see past the skirt. Luckily for Caitlin and Jason, they landed a lyrical jazz number by Mandy Moore for round two. For me, Mandy does not disappoint. However, I agree with the judges: it was very good but it didn’t have magic. And I think when it comes to Caitlin and Jason as a whole, Tyce put it best when he said they played it safe, and this is why I don’t lie in bed at night and think about these two dancers.

A couple I am going to think about tonight but FOR THE WRONG REASONS: Phillip and Jeanine. What the hell were these choreographers thinking? It was like watching two 6 year olds performing for Russian Heritage Day at the local Elks Club, which is a combination that you would never have nsee happen in my hometown but would have gotten about the same reaction as what I think this dance did: only proud looks from your drunk aunt Pearl and a fake smile from your mother who then had to take a cigarette break during the recital’s intermission so she could cope with the embarrassment. The judges, too, were perplexed, and it’s the first time Nigel has ever come close to telling a choreographer that they stink. And at the end of the day, this dance did nothing to help US-Russian relations. At all. 

Their jive, however, was fun, and I think Jeanine is always great in whatever she does. Phillip did much better than expected, but therein lies the rub. We don’t expect much from Phillip in a style not his own. We always have to qualify his dances, and shouldn’t that say to us that maybe a dancer isn’t so good when we have to keep qualifying him?

Randi got knocked up, broke the news to the Baby Daddy who then hoisted her all over the place, and then accepted his proposal in a standard T&N hip-hop number. I thought Randi did a great job with this. She was fluid where needed, but she also hit it where needed. Evan, however, was way too fluid the whole time and I don’t think really embraced the hip-hop groove. So to me, this was fine but nothing special. However, special did rear its wonderful head in dance numero dos for these two, but it wasn’t from anything they did. Let’s just say if you watched Season 3 that you will remember the Hotness that is Pasha, our Russian Latin dancer who was voted off too soon and left hearts a-breakin’ (especially my friend Kaysi’s) all over the USA. Let me say this: time has been good to this man and it was a joy to see him again. He and Anya (also from S3) choreographed a sexy samba, which Randi pulled off in high style. Evan, again, was disappointing tonight. He needed to extend his limbs more and really get down and dirty with it, but it didn’t happen. And thus tonight our little hobbit friend came up looking just like that, a little hobbit, sans the really hairy feet.

Brandon and Janette were the last in the cycle tonight, and goodness are the two of these something else. They really lucked out with their Argentine Tango choreographers who created a piece that left Nigel with nothing to do but stand up and clap. (Mary and Tyce joined him.) He said it was “as close to perfection as I’ve seen” ever on this show for ballroom. Mary put them on the train, and Tyce tried to pull a Lil’ C-ism with something to do about orange juice (and I say to Tyce: leave the analogies to Lil’ C and stick with what you know best, which apparently is a shimmy move and that shouldn’t even be done in public but if it keeps you from talking about squeezing oranges, then so be it). So if that wasn’t great enough, Brandon and Janette scored with a Wade Robson piece that proved why I adore this man and think he has got to be the best choreographer in the world alive right now. He creates for dancers the coolest movements—movements that other choreographers just wouldn’t dream of using or else would try to use and fail in the attempt. And when the dancers are good, like these two, we get to see magic, and we get to see two dancers who won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Speaking of which…bottom three for tomorrow? My viewing groups gives that distinction to Jason and Caitlin, Phillip and Jeanine, and Evan and Randi. We’ll see what happens.