There is one reality show that I especially love, and not just because of its catchy jingle in the opening credits. I am addicted to So You Think You Can Dance.
I record every episode so I can watch the routines again and give them my own critiques. Instead of the “hot tamale train” that Mary Murphy puts the contestants on, I have a few other trains which include the “future stripper train” and the “home girl needs a new grill train.”
I know, I’m a real talent scout.
So when our friends C-squad and Kvothe (not their real names) asked if we wanted to see the top 10 dancers from this season on tour, my husband and I did our best kick ball change to show that we were in.
Mr. and Mrs. C-squad said we would grab dinner before the show, which we were completely on board with. Theyknew t he way to my heart; with food and the promise of only observing physical activity.
Engaging in physical activity for enjoyment is just ludicrous.
Yeah, we ordered appetizers. What’s the point of going to dinner if you can’t have appetizers? That would be like going to a movie without popcorn, or a family function without liquor.
The waiter then returned to our table a few minutes later looking dazed and confused (but he was no young Matthew McConaughey).
He looked at us blankly and asked what we ordered. He said he was an MMA fighter and fought last night and “got clocked pretty hard in the head.”
Immediately, I asked if he knew his name or where he was. I also asked him if he remembered his promise of free drinks and appetizers, but he didn’t buy my sham (or my drinks).
Miraculously, he got our orders right, stumbling over his feet. The four of us contemplated ways to mess with him.
How many times do you get a waiter with a concussion? This was an event to be celebrated (and exploited).
After he cleared our plates, we decided to look at him honestly and say we were ready to order. We knew we’d be condemned for eternity for this, but since my hubby and I shacked up before we were married, we already knew our fiery fate.
When the waiter returned to our table he looked like I do anytime someone discusses physics. We looked at his glassy eyes and decided we just couldn’t do it. Who knew we had hearts?
We told him what we planned to do and reminded him we didn’t follow through. He wasn’t nearly as grateful as he should have been, but his inability to think and grasp concepts was still inhibited.
We asked him to split the bill evenly down the middle, but he charged one of the couples 20% of the bill and the other 80%.
With full bellies and lighter wallets, we headed to the show.
We walked into the theater and were surrounded by girls of all ages. From toddlers to teens, screaming girls were everywhere. It reminded me I needed to refill my birth control.
As adults with jobs, we were out of place; not only because of age, but because our midriffs weren’t showing. We also weren’t wearing large amounts of sparkle make up. Well, C-squad was sporting a little sparkle, but it made his eyes pop.
We passed several girls I knew would be knocked up before they could drive (or before they left the show).
We found our seats which had a perfect view of the stage…except for the women in front of me, who were both annoying, and trashy.
Their crow’s feet told me they were older than they wanted to appear, and although these women were in their 30s, all their clothes came from Deb. (You all know what trashy store in the mall I’m talking about.)
I tried to read it over her shoulder, but she was a slow reader and I found myself annoyed. Her mother’s death stares and threats of child endangerment complaints didn’t help matters.
The show began after only seeing three pages of the program. I was glad I didn’t spend the $15 to buy one. That money could be better spend on liquor.
The dancers did a great job, although a few of them were a bit slutty. One of them in particular will most likely be riding the pole in a few years.
By the end of the show I had enough of her crotch shots, although I’m sure our husbands wanted an encore.
I found myself even more impressed with the talent of the dancers and their stamina to perform so many energetic numbers.
I would have needed an inhaler after the third dance, and I don’t even have asthma.
I will definitely watch next season. I also know this is the only reality show I would see live.
Watching any of The Real Housewives programs live would probably result in someone getting punched in the face, and someone else contracting herpes.