Dancing With the Thars 1

Now, the Star-Belly Sneetches had bellies with stars.

The Plain-Belly Sneetches had none upon thars.

Those stars weren’t so big. They were really so small.

You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

– Dr. Seuss,  The Sneetches


I am definitely a “Thar” because I am certainly no Star.

But, that doesn’t keep me from dreaming about being on Dancing With the Stars someday.

I know the show can be cheesy, over-dramatic and sometimes seriously skanky, but I have always LOVED dancing and the idea of taking people who have no ballroom experience and giving them the opportunity to learn from the best in the world intrigues me.

My husband watches the show with me sometimes, but he doesn’t want anyone to know so please keep that on the down low.

I assure him that there are probably tons of closet DWTS male watchers. What guy wouldn’t love watching Emmitt Smith wear silk and sequins and shake his booty outside of the end zone?

Not to mention the gorgeous ballroom babes busting a move while wearing crumbs.

It’s not like I have to beg him to watch it with me.

While watching the show the other night, we were choosing hypothetical partners for each other.

“I would want to dance with Mark.” I gushed, “I love his choreography and he’s such a showman.”

“Why not Derek then? He does cool choreography and is a serious showman.”

“He’s a show-off. There’s a difference. And it would be like dancing with a Ken doll. Mark has more depth.”

“It’s good to know you prefer dark and deep over blonde and plastic.” My husband said with a cocky grin as he ran his fingers through his salt and pepper widows peak.

“You like blondes,” I pointed out recalling a certain touchy conversation we had once about Gwyneth Paltrow.

“I like brunettes too.” He defended.

“No, you love a brunette, but you like blondes.” I corrected. “You should be with Kim.”

“Why Kim?”

“Because she’s blonde, nice and Australian.” He lived in Australia for a while so I thought he could throw some meat on the barbie with Australian Barbie and say ‘G’day mate!’ to each other.

“You don’t think I could handle the red-headed Russian chick?”

“She would eat you for lunch. So would Lacey.”

“You’re right about that. She’s way scary.” He considered for a moment. “How about Edyta?”

I knew this was coming.

“What color is her hair?” I tested.


“What color is Edyta’s hair?”

“I don’t know.” He was nailed.

“Exactly! Because who even bothers to notice hair color when you have a body like that!”

“Kim has a nice body and I knew her hair color.” He defended, stupidly.

“Yea, but somehow Edyta always looks nakeder.”


Awkward silence.

“I think you should be with Maks.” He said with sudden resolution.

“Why Maks?”

“Because you two would be funny together. You’re so much alike you would fight and butt heads and drive each other crazy! It would be awesome!” His eyes grew big.

“So, tension is a turn on for you?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

No argument there.

“Well, there’s no way either one of us is ever going to be famous enough to get on the show, so I guess we’ll never know.” I shrugged and let my scantily clad dreams fade away.

“What about your blog? That could make you famous! Your blog will get so big and popular that they’ll be begging the famous creator of ‘Kari-On’ to be on the show!”

You can see why I love him.

“Wait,” he suddenly got all serious. “When you do get popular, you can’t go writing about how I watch Dancing With the Stars though.”

I just don’t know why he still loves me.

One comment on “Dancing With the Thars

  1. Reply Madi Rich Apr 5,2011 10:11 pm

    He has to live in fear of being blogged. Poor man.

Leave a Reply