Bored shitless, and trying to avoid Twitter (Yes, that Mia Freedman victim-shaming-rant fallout is still going on) so we decided to watch Dancing With The “Stars”.
Oh Holy Mary, Mother of God what the Hell is going on here?
Firstly, there’s a new host. Where is Sonja? And why does this new chick look suspiciously like her? Is Channel 7 having a “single white female” moment? And why did she just say “cock-a-roaches” instead of cockroaches? If she says “aks” instead of asks, I’m ringing the switchboard.
Secondly, some dude just did metal fingers because he got a “rock” song for his poncy dance. But he didn’t really do metal fingers, with the index and little finger like pointy debbil-horns. No, he did the two-fingered “up yours” fingers from 1974. But he meant them to be horns. What a tool. Plus: not a metal song.
I’m cringing so much I can hardly watch.
Cut to the audience, and by the looks on their faces, I think some of them are experiencing the searing pain, of images burning, burning, their retinas. The rest are sitting quietly, zombiod*, reflecting on how they may best re-arrange the soft furnishings in their lounge-rooms tomorrow.
Thirdly, who are these stars?
One of the contestants was so uncoordinated, the choreography was designed to prevent him from, well, dancing. The Annoying Judge said, “You just might win Non-Dancing with the Stars”. What? What stars? Doesn’t he mean “Dancing with the Non-Stars”? WE DON’T KNOW WHO ANY OF THEM ARE.
So we have invented a game**. The rules are as follows:
- Turn down the audio and avert eyes whilst the intro and mini-montage of the “journey” part is on
- Watch the dancing bit
- Try to guess which one is the dancer and which is the “star”
- If you get it wrong: scull.
- If you get it right: also scull (otherwise the show really is unbearable)
That is the end of the game. Brilliant in it’s simplicity, no? It seems the show is getting better each time we follow steps 1 through 5. I am considering adding in some new rules. Like: every time someone mentions how they hope they aren’t going home this week: scull, every time someone mentions how much they’ve grown: scull, every time Daniel McPherson says “That might just be the dance of the night”: scull.
I’m changing my mind, this show, really is pretty good.
OH BLOODY HELL, NO, THE RUDE AND ANNOYING CHICK FROM THAT HOME COOKING SHOW JUST CAME ON, HOW ON EARTH IS SHE A STAR? SHE DIDN’T EVEN WIN: Scull.
Okay, I take it aaalllll back. This show bites: scull.
*Possibly a made-up word.
**We didn’t invent it, and it’s not a game. It’s just called getting pissed I think. But with added yelling at the telly.
Do you watch DWTS?
Have you invented any excellent games I must know of?