Dancing with your Mom

Dancing with the Stars is a wonderful show. You've got dancing, you've got D-list celebrities, you've got drama and competition. What more could you want out of life? The two remaining female "stars" have become very good dancers (by my non-dancer standards, so Amy, Diana and Jeni are free to correct me on this) and are totally fun to watch. Drew Lachey (Nick's brother) is decent, George Hamilton is tan and funny, and you can't help but cheer for Jerry Rice, whose dancing isn't as good as the others' but he's a football player, so fuck off. And one of the two females happen to be a former Days of our Lives actress (the women in my family have watched that show for a VERY long time). The other has me somewhat facinated, because she's apparently a WWE wrestling "diva," and they tend to annoy me as I find professional wrestling very entertaining but not so much the semi-pornographic cat fight shit (I don't think I'm their target audience), but having never seen her ringside, I kind of like her. That was a bad sentence. I'm not fixing it, though. So there.

Cold medicine is useless.

Hannah's coming Sunday!!!! Then I am visiting my sister in LA the next weekend. Oh what a life I lead.

Freud bites his nails, but he won't let me clip them and I don't have enough arms to both hold him down and use the clippers, so nibble nibble nibble he goes.