Credit: Dancing with the Stars: Bob D'Amico

I’m not sure if I should thank you or curse you. Back on Jan. 5, when ABC premiered the second season of Dancing With the Stars, all I could do was shrug my shoulders (well, shrug my shoulders and tune in, of course). But the bottom line was: I simply couldn’t get excited. That is, until you and your oversized lips and ridiculously ripped, fortysomething bod came waltzing onto the screen.

Somehow, over the last two months, you made me care: about a show I had no intention of adding to my DVR schedule; about a C-list personality I hadn’t thought about since the Melrose Place era. Was it the Pepto-Bismol fishnet frock you trotted out in your Week 2 rumba? Or the way you set your Week 4 paso doble to Europe’s deliciously campy ”The Final Countdown”? Maybe it was how you shrieked and leaped with joy every time you got a positive comment from the judges or advanced to the next round? Whatever the reason, your enthusiasm was infectious, and when DWTS airs its Rinna-free finals this week, I’ll be watching more out of habit than anything else.

Oh, Lisa, I know you never got that perfect score you so desperately hoped one of the meany judges would give you — and you sure as heck deserved it for last Thursday’s Cha Cha Cha to ”Material Girl” — but with an earnestness I probably shouldn’t feel (and which I’m sure I’ll regret in the morning), I’ll leave you with this: You’ll always rate a 10 in my book.

Yours in reality TV,

Michael Slezak

addCredit(“Dancing with the Stars: Bob D’Amico”)

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