Every Tuesday night, after I have faced an entire Monday and the First Day That is Not Monday and therefore basically a holiday, I collapse exhausted in front of our television for the one and only night each week that I get control of the remote. I go to my DVR list and push play on the previous night’s episode of Dancing With the Stars. And I am surprised and delighted and deeply moved every single time.
It’s been a while since a good Hollywood post, and there’s no stopping it this week. The Emmys happened Sunday night. And from the moment Jimmy Fallon met up with the cast of Glee and opened the show with a musical number complete with matching costumes and dancing in silhouette, I turned to Michael and said, “I’m so happy.” Do you know the line in Music and Lyrics when Drew
Okay, last night I dreamed I was on Dancing with the Stars. They were spraying me with a fake tan, and I was wearing a glittery light green dress and everything. Considering my obsession with Hollywood, you’d think this was standard dream-fare for me. But nope. I rarely dream the things I want to dream. I dream about old high school acquaintances and being yelled at in church and snakes.