Yesterday I ate like the world was ending (Wait… let me rephrase… Yesterday I ate like the world was ending today). For breakfast I had a nutella sandwich on sweet ciabatta. For lunch, burrata mozzarella, prosciutto, fritto misto, and granny apple ravioli with lamb ragu. For dinner, my roommate’s boyfriend fed us raw clams, crabcakes, and wild salmon. Finally, we finished it off with some dulce de leche ice cream cones.
…then I saw Carol Brady’s boobs and threw it all up.
You heard it right, folks: Here’s a story, of a lovely lady, who was holding up two very saggy girls. Ok, ok… I’m exaggerating. In truth, at 76-years-old, Florence Henderson has got one rockin’ bod (and one awesome potty mouth). Did I need to see her Brady Bra? No. But then again, we also didn’t need to see the Hoff gyrating or Derek pretending to be straight, and what did we do? Tune in any way!!! Weeeeeeee!!!
Oh and am I glad I did! It’s been a while since I’ve scenario-ed meeting Mark Ballas at a bar, sweatily dancing the night away, and then doing it all again… horizontally. Thank the mirror ball that Marky-poo is recovered and back on the dance floor. However, if Bristol doesn’t step off my man soon I am seriously going to reconsider my political allegiances.
And as if Mark’s hiney wasn’t enough to keep me glued to the screen, the dancing chocolate meatball from the Disney channel made my night complete. I can’t tell you what his name is… nor can I tell you what he’s been in; But I can tell you that his precious pudge coupled with his bedroom eyes gives me some serious lady tickles. Not really… but really…
So what’s my prediction for this season? Well, first off I predict that the ridiculous star on the side of the Situation’s head is going to peel itself off. More importantly I predict Jennifer Grey taking it all… duh. Nobody puts baby in a corner. NOBODY. Speaking of which…
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