Lemme explain. See, it’s actually not my fault that I’m here, at the office, sharing a TV Watch with you, instead of at home (on vacation, even) searching for dirty Twilight fanfic, like I’d normally be. You know whose fault it is? Adam B. Vary’s.
That’s right, So You Think You Can Dance partners, your fearless leader deserted you! The backstory: Last week, while I was still dazed and confused from working like an indentured servant to provide you with quality listicles for our 1,000th (!) issue, the Beav poked his head through my door (our offices are adjacent), batted those Beavy lashes, smiled that Beavy smile, and asked for a favor. Long story short: He’s in San Francisco, where they don’t have TVs, or the webnet, or something, and I’m here (Sucker: table for one). Truth be told though, I could do this from home. But my laptop is old enough to be a third grader, and it seemed fairly important that I actually sit upright and think. Just so you know, though, it’s super creepy around here at night — especially with the entire office gone for the week — and I ain’t gettin’ hazard pay.
There are, however, two bits of good news:
1. Adam will be back for Thursday’s hoofer exits.
2. Either you’ll dig me or you’ll hate me. If you dig me, no harm, no foul. If you hate me, then you’ll just be thrilled to bits to have Adam back, so I’m thinking win/win.
Enough prologue. Let’s get it on!
So here’s the question: Was last night buck, as Lil’ C would say, or banoodles, as Mia Michaels cornily coined? I vote banoodles. (And thank you, Mia, for doing the work for us! Love the hair, BTW.) For each moment of inspired choreography, there was footwork that didn’t bear it out. For every dancer who beat expectations in a genre wildly out of his/her comfort zone, there was a performer who failed to excel in her/his own discipline. And those clothes? All 19 flavors of banoodles.
In fact, let’s start there. Cat, you slinky minx, you were working that LBD! I won’t even be nasty and tell you the boa goes around your shoulders, not the hem, because you know what? You can pull that off. Jidge Mary, on the other hand, oh but no! We don’t do animal prints with crimped hair and funky junky jewelry from Forever 21. It’s scary, like when my friend Paul grew a ’70s porn moustache for charity. Is that why you did this? Are there starving kids involved? Because unless you’re saving the children (or the puppies, or the rainforest), elegant, screamy ladies should buy elegant, screamy-lady clothes. You were not, however, alone in your sartorial slump.
NEXT: Everyone into the talent pool