Bless me Father for I have sinned….
C.I.B.F. is in the confessional today. I am ashamed. I am embarrassed. I am repentful. And I need to bare my soul.
“My name is Frank and I am a fan of Dancing With The Stars,” (DWTS. for us creepy addicts).
“Hiiiii Frank!”, shrieked the former cast of ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’
The elegance. The grace. The costumes. The pageantry.
I love it all. (Oh God, listen to me! I am sick! Please help me, Lord!)
Where do I begin? Where did it all go wrong? I am afraid I do not have the time or writing space to tell you the full story, but somewhere along this crazy journey of life I have lost my way. For my faithful readers (19 and counting) you know it has been a long road back from being unemployed. If I had to pinpoint when I “lost it” it was probably somewhere during this time period.
So, the DWTS build up has been happening for weeks. The new cast was announced last month and the folks at ABC did not disappoint.
Included in this year’s pseudo-celebrity lineup…
•J.R. Martinez: A War hero turned Soap Opera star.
•Ron Artest: Rage-aholic/Pro basketball player
•Ricki Lake: Washed up talk show host
•Nancy Grace: Soon to be washed up talk show host (yikes, Nancy You are awful…get back to screaming about Casey Anthony and stay away from the dance floor)
•Chynna Phillips: Mrs. William “The Underachieving” Baldwin
•David Arquette: Former Mr. Courtney Cox/Future babbling basketcase
•Elizabetta Canalis: Former girlfriend to George Clooney…no, really, that is all she has ever done.
•Hope Solo: The cute, but intimidating, USA Women’s Olympic Soccer Goalie.
•Kristen Cavallari: The former Laguna Beach and Hills beauty who we love to hate.
•Rob Kardashian: Reality TV co-conspirator and brother to a girl who’s claim to fame is her (insert body part)
•Carson Kressley: The Gayest Man in the Universe
And let’s not forget…
•Chaz “Chastity” Bono: the spawn/son/daughter/she-male/trans-gender mess of 1960s power couple Sonny and Cher
Impressive…I know!
Anyway, now that you know who the players are, I can further my penance.
I made a very conscious effort to avoid the media hype preceding the premier of the show this past Monday. If I saw even a glance of Chaz or Chynna on TV, I quickly changed the channel.
“I am not getting sucked into this depressing, reality massacre comprised of 3rd rate, D-List celebrities living out some pathetic, last ditch effort to claim 15 more minutes of fame. No, no…not this guy,” proclaimed my machismo inner monologue
Famous last words. (of course, if those really were my “last words”, I will have really lived more sad life that the demented dancing rejects?)
Sure enough, Monday arrived and there I sat on my couch eagerly waiting to hear that annoying, squeaky voice of America’s Funniest Home Video front man, Tom Bergeron kick off season 13!
Mrs. C.I.B.F. was teaching a class and would not be home until about half way through the 2-hour season premiere (no worries, DVR had been set for 2 weeks!). So I could not even use the typical ‘guy excuse’ of “My wife was watching it. I wasn’t even paying attention.” Oh no, I was locked in all on my own.
Right out of the gate, I began to examine, criticize and score the performers. I was disgusted with myself. By the time my wife came home I found myself making ridiculously un-manly statements like…
“She has great posture, but heavy feet”
“His lines were beautiful but tempo was way off,”
Are you kidding me?
Why do I know the technical differences between a Cha-Cha, a Viennese Waltz and a Paso Doble?
I loathe myself.
Anyway, I have about 7 Rosaries to say, so I better get going.
Amen.
P.S. God, thank you for dressing those female professional dancers in nothing but dental floss and glitter.
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