[Shakes] I’m practicing my Samba. That's my dream dance. It's not only the Party Dance, but it's my favorite dance to watch on DWTS. It's also the dance I’m going to choose when I win with the dance lesson with Tristan in the Dublin Down 330 raffle – even though I have never won anything in my life except for something from McDonalds 20 years ago. My luck is changing however. I know it. Dancing with Tristan is my destiny. Or maybe my destiny is to make an ass out of myself while dancing with Tristan, but no matter. I’m not afraid of failure, nor am I afraid of my always klutzy self making an appearance in front of the drop dead gorgeous Irish Dance Man. Nope, I’m a brave soul. I take chances. I take risks. I have no fear of failure.
Here’s the problem. I’m in decent shape I guess for somebody 312 years old and who has had a bunch of kids. I’m old enough to be Tristan’s mother, er, I mean older sister. I used to dance a lot. I could handle myself pretty well in a disco after I had a few adult beverages for fortification. I wore my short skirts, platform shoes, and bosom-baring tops with pride and could do The Bump better than anybody. So what does one wear to Samba with Tristan? I haven’t danced with anybody since 1983 when Laura Branigan was belting out “Gloria.” That was only a few years ago, right? I probably still have the moves. I do, however, need to make careful wardrobe decisions here. If I wear something too long in order to hopefully hide my figure flaws, my feet will get tangled up in my hem, I’ll topple over, taking Tristan down with me. He will probably either break his neck or sue me for damages, and then where would I be? Nope, no long dresses for me. Besides, isn't the Samba all about showing a little skin? It's party time, after all.
I thought about digging out my favorite short skirt and bosom-baring top from my disco days, but well, suffice it to say that gravity and 4 kids might have done irreparable damage to the physique that might make wearing such an outfit not only impossible but frightening as well. Hiring a personal trainer isn’t an option because all the extra cash has to go to the raffle. Or that pesky thing called college tuition. Or groceries. I remembered my favorite sequined top and leather skirt along with the ridiculously high shoes that had all kinds of ribbon that I intertwined up my calves – all of which made me look like, well, you get the visual. It wasn’t pretty then and is worse now. First of all I live barefoot, and when I have to wear shoes, I gravitate towards flip flops or my favorite Dr. Scholls’ wooden sandals. I can’t see me shimmying and Samba-rolling in my wooden sandals. One would fly off, smack Tristan in the head or elsewhere, cause him bodily harm, and voila. Another lawsuit.
Speaking of my Samba rolls, keep in mind that I have no clue how to do one of the most difficult moves in dance, so Tristan would have to teach me. Now considering the position that bodies take for this particular move, I can see me doing something with my backside that could cause irrevocable harm to his person, and that would be very unsettling for all concerned. Yep, lawsuit.
So what about something wild and funky for the Samba – something like Cheryl or Anna would wear. You know – lots of ruffles and feathers and low cut in the back far enough that you really wonder if a butt-viewing is inevitable. Nope,we don’t want that. Not with this post-4 kids a long time ago body. Then there are the cut-outs to show off my 8 pack. Um, or not. These abs haven’t made a public appearance in, oh, a long time. The mumu is out because I would only get one in neon orange and lime green with big red hibiscus all over it; once again, problems. The color combination would blind Tristan, he would drop me on my butt, cause an earthquake probably from that shock, and then he’ll sue. Again.
Let’s not forget the feathers on my costume. Dare I go there? First of all it would take way too many to cover my assets, and he’s most likely an environmentalist who finds it offensive to use feathers for decorative purposes, so that will annoy him. Then there’s my perfume. I go nowhere without my Estée Lauder Intense Pleasures. Wanna bet he’s allergic? There’s that whole anaphylactic shock thing, a trip to the emergency room to make sure Tristan is okay, and another lawsuit.
I’m just going to Samba in my sweatpants and sneakers. Or better yet, let somebody else win it. I’ll just sit in the floor and cry.
[SWAT] You know that every season there is that one celebrity who goes to meet their pro partner, and you just know that the pro is thinking “Ohhh cripes, I can't believe I got this one." Well my friends, I am sure that this is the sentiment Tristan's poor mind would echo if I ever won the raffle, and he got stuck with me.
I survived Zumba class and I thought that I was going to die then, and maybe this won’t be so bad. The Rumba is a pretty slow dance after all, and the slower the better. Anything to not attract attention to the fact that I jiggle when I jump up and down is a bonus.
You'd think that the dance of love and lust would be an easy thing for me....SWAT...the Lusty Wench Pirate Queen. But alas, having to act this way in front of Tristan would be a very difficult thing to do. First of all, it isnt exactly acting when you already think of Tristan as your ultimate fantasy man. It's easy to ACT like you are lusting over your partner in the Rumba, but when it comes down to it I'd probably start hiccuping or something out of nerves and then our Rumba would look like gorgeous Tristan and catatonic hiccuping SWAT. Oh yeah....now that's sexy. And would Tristan even want to incorporate the lust part into a dance lesson? It's not like we'd be rehearsing for an actual performance. So here’s the million dollar question - how far is too far when it comes to acting lust in a Rumba lesson?
I've been chasing after two high voltage toddlers for the past 4 years, you'd think I'd have a bangin' body to show off my Mommy superpowers. I couldn't have miscalculated on the thousands of calories I've burned wrangling my kids every day, could I? I'm always breaking a sweat. So what gives? Before I had my kids I was energetic and could actually do the splits. Now, post dual pregnancies I've traded those things in for adrenal fatigue, stretch marks and a mighty flattering Muffin Top. Aaahhhh the joys of middle aged motherhood.
I know I know I know, all ya'll are sitting there thinking about how jealous you are going to be of me when I win the raffle and get my dance lesson with Tristan. As much as I can understand it, please don’t lose too much sleep over this idea. I'm in no way the kind of girl that would be a threat to Tristan Fandom. I'm not a fabulous dancer, nor am I a Maxsim swimsuit model. I'm just your average woman who is going to do her best, try and have a laugh, and most likely hobble our poor Tristan in some klutzy way when I insist that we incorporate an aerial lift into our lesson. Okay, so maybe I am a threat to Tristan fandom...hobbling our boy wouldn't be a great way to make new friends. Yikes
The Rumba is fabulous because the costumes are generally flowing, and thus, I can hide what needs to be hidden. I know it seems like I'm obsessed with my tutus but I won't be wearing one to a Rumba lesson. I'd save that for the Samba. But the Rumba does seem to us a lot of draping sort of dresses, lots of silk and chiffon and flowing uh, stuff. Perfect for hiding muffin tops and wobbly bits and all of that. Which is why I'm going for a really classy yet colorful tunic style top and black pants. Yes my friends, SWA T is going to try to play it straight with this outfit. I don't want to scare poor Tristan with a tutu tube top.
Don't get me started on the shoes. Have I mentioned that I haven’t worn heels since my Senior year of high school? Well I'm mentioning it now. Seriously, the last time I wore heels I was 18 years old and sporting some sweet character shoes when I played Ado Annie in my small town's version of Oklahoma. Since then, I've definitely become a flip flops and flats sort of lady. So the thought of having to actually turn, spin, or do anything that requites walking a few steps in a pair of dance shoes scares the crap out of me.
Conclusion: The bottom line here is that we have agreed that both of us suck, neither can dance, neither can stand heels, and we will both look horrendous in whatever we wear. Also, there isn’t a chance in the world that either of us will win this thing because we are the most unlucky (not to mention klutzy) women ever. Shakes broke 3 toes once walking into a door that hadn’t moved since the previous day in her house, and SWAT showed great poise and grace while walking up the stairs – and falling down them. Then there’s the story about her slipping on a Crayon and ending up flat on her butt. Yeah, we are both elegant and graceful and equally perfect choices for a sexy Samba or a romantic Rumba with the best dancer and choreographer in the world. Yeah, that makes sense.
*How do you say goodbye to a legend and her brilliant partner?
*How do you manage to not fall apart when they do that final group hug?
*How do you keep the tears from falling when you just want to see them dance again?
*How do you stop the sun from shining? Oh wait, that was from a BeeGees and later Al Green song. Forget that part. This isn’t that serious.
It’s easy. You slap yourself upside the head, tell yourself to grow up, and have some laughs because let’s face it, Season 14 was going to be over in less than a month anyway, so it’s the journey that’s important, not the final result. And oh what a journey we’ve had! We’re going to focus though on what we lovingly call The Cutest Rumba In History!
Let’s forget the obvious Motown connection in Tristan’s costume choice (the tribute – whether intentional or not - to David Ruffin), forget that the legendary Temptations were singing, forget everything but the dance. We will focus on the artistry, the performance, and the choreography and costume selections that were supposed to convey some connection to Motown itself. We will be concentrating on the back story – Tristan’s way of captivating us by giving us a cleverly executed story behind the dance.
We aren’t going to spend a lot of time on the other performances from this week because let’s face it, other than a few misguided attempts to throw in some signature Motown moves and mostly non-Motown anything related to costumes, it was an epic fail. The music was special; the performances have already been forgotten because they absolutely did not incorporate the spirit of Motown. Four days later, and neither of us can remember a thing about any of the other dances (other than the Dance Duel in which Tristan and Gladys did a true jive while Chelsie and Roshon did some sort of freestyle that we suspect made the judges eyes cross and mix up their decision making powers. That is another story, however). We will be talking about those performances another time, and this blog is dedicated solely to the team that infused their program with the entire aura and spirit of Motown, none other than our own Team Gladys.
Let’s talk costumes. Purple costumes. Not as in a psychedelic weird grape purple but the lovely soft purple that the young (pre-Superman days) Clark MacKent was sporting as he descended the stairs with his girl, the one and only Teenage Gladys “You Know You Want Me” Knight. In fact, even BuddyTV took notice and named Miss Gladys's purple sensation as THE #1 fashion hit of the week. But that's not what's important. What's important is how it all came to be. Yes folks, before Smallville, before all of the Superman movies and television shows dedicated to the big guy, there was simply Clark MacKent and he was doing his best to make his way in the world as a normal guy. Of course he had dancing superpowers but why flaunt them and give himself away? TG (Teenage Gladys) was the girl he had his eye on, and he was going to convince her to teach him her sweet soul moves. In an effort to live as a normal teenager, Clark is determined to go to the school dance with the classiest and sassiest of all the girls, TG. This was all about the school dance, impressing the girl, getting the girl, and making her blush. Or making him blush. It was reciprocal in this case.
The cute little couple was drawn to each other by their love for the music of Motown - the Temptations, Smokey Robinson, Gladys Knight (remember her?)…all of it. The boy, who incidentally was a reporter for the school newspaper, wanted to match his girl’s dress so instead of choosing a purple shirt or a purple boutonniere, he went 100% all out and knocked her socks off when he picked her up in a full out purple suit because he just knew that this was her favorite color. Did it diminish young Clark’s masculinity? Not a freakin’ chance. It clung to that surprisingly hot body (let's just say that static electricity was doing the ladies of the world a favor), but at the risk of censoring ourselves for being naughty, we’ll just leave that topic alone. So anyway, Clark showed up dressed to the nines in his form-fitting attire, looking hotter than hot in those glasses that screamed “I am really a good boy that just wants to be bad but will behave." Who knew the white shoes – perfect for dancing– would be so downright sexy when on anybody else they would be shouting ‘used car salesman’? They were also appropriate to the era. This is a phrase we will be repeating frequently. Appropriate to the era. There wasn’t a lot of that during Motown Night, was there?
We turn our attention to the daring dress worn by young Gladys. A little sexy, a little tempting, but not overtly sexual because after all, Daddy was a minister and didn’t want his little girl going out anyway. But Clark is essentially every parent’s dream son-in-law, so it wasn't hard for TG to sell her father on her new potential beau. Being the ever sassy nice girl, TG rocked the best part of her ensemble...the purple bow in her hair! This was, dare we say it, completely appropriate to the era. This was 1966 and that one accessory nailed down the perfection of this costume better than anything else possibly could. Her hair was the perfect bob of the 60s; his hair, while we would prefer the 2012 pre-haircut hair, was the clean cut hair of those who avoided the Beatles haircut.
Now the dance. The Rumba. It’s a slow dance, but let me tell you, if you had done sexy, steamy, or sulty in a slow dance at school in the 1960s you would have been tossed right out on your derriere so guess what? They had to keep it appropriate to the era. So when the crazy-ass judged said “I prefer my Rumba a bit steamier” we wanted to go over there and yank him by his ear and say, “Nuh uh. You can’t do that in school, and nobody wants to see it anyway with a bunch of high school kids and certainly not with Clark and the straight-laced preacher’s daughter.” Some dancer guy – Tristan somebody - pointed that out himself when he called the comment “stupid.” Truer words were never spoken. Sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade. Or an idiot an idiot. Just as point of reference let’s recall Season 13 when Nancy Grace and Tristan MacManus (remember him?) did a Rumba which the judges clearly labeled as appropriate because it excluded the sexiness they felt would have been inappropriate because of the age difference between the 2 dancers. Ahem, math whizzes on the judging panel – add another 15 years to that age difference and what does that tell you?
So anyway. Some people said the dance was too slow. Dudes, a Rumba IS SLOW. “My Girl” is slow, and Clark and TG took care of doing an amazing little Rumba that portrayed the era perfectly. It was appropriate to the era. Every move in a Rumba was in this one. Clark had obviously been taking lessons or was a natural. Every step was perfectly synchronized – almost as though they had been practicing in Daddy’s basement for weeks. And to top it all off – while the other kids at the dances pretty much missed the whole point that it was Motown Week and their dancing should reflect it, our young couple not only put those moves into their flirty little dance, but they nailed each and every one to perfection. HA! Follow the rules and see what happens, kids. I vote y’all skip out on the dance and head to the drive-in, where Clark, always the perfect gentleman has offered TG his purple sweater and his arm is innocently draped over her shoulder to keep her warm. Yep....I can almost hear that collective MacManiac swoon-sigh right now.
So what happened to Clark and TG after the school dance you ask? We don't know for sure, but rumor has it that they practiced and mastered their Motown Rumba moves so well that they were invited onto American Bandstand...or was it Soul Train? Whatever it was, we think it likely that they were never forgotten because not only did those two wild and crazy kids nail their perfect dance, they made it appropriate to the era without rolling around on the floor, without incessant rubbing against each other, or without reminding us of some basic animalistic urges that had no place in this little dance. It was lovely, just as “My Girl” is lovely. A perfect song for a perfect sweet Rumba.
Week 6 gave us (us meaning SWAT and Shakes) a lot of interesting problems – not the least of which was the way to figure out the many faces, personalities, and characters that showed up on the dance floor to strut their stuff. We could try to figure out the ladies, but that would be too easy. Their flamboyant costumes, ridiculous headdresses (hello Maria), overdone and underdone messes would be way too easy to analyze, ridicule, and rip apart. The guys, on the other hand, are a bit more challenging. Here you have a little boy playing dress up, a big boy thinking bubblebum pink was somehow a good idea, a couple of drunks, a Chippendales wannabe without the stuff to strut, and a genuine “hotter than the sun” poster boy for what every woman looks for at Carnival in Rio de Janeiro.
So ladies, here are your male characters (or lack thereof) from Latin Week.
William Levy - We think Carrie Ann must have taken a wrong turn somewhere when she called William “The Latin James Bond.” He’s Latin, but that’s the only possible correlation between William and James Bond. 007 he ain’t, especially not when we are familiar with our friend 0014 (remember him? He showed up for the Tango with The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane in Week 8 of Season 13 and was thus called because he was twice as hot as 007). So we beg to differ. He’s not James Bond. He’s not even Maxwell Smart. He’s kind of just, like, William Levy. Nothing changed. There really was no character. His purpose was to get Carrie Ann and Bruno all riled up, and he did that. He was just William, and I guess that’s okay, but wasn’t he supposed to be taking on a role? We must have blinked and missed it.
Derek Hough - We will be nice on this one, even thought the temptation is there to go in a thousand different directions. First we thought he was Rico Rico, the Chippendale dancer who got fired for wearing yellow, but then we realized there was no way he would qualify as a Chippendale. He was too scrawny and too, well, shellacked. We think his chest was varnished for sure with a polyurethane seal – the kind you put on your wood floors to make ‘em shine. He actually looked disturbingly like a Ken doll I had decades ago, but with fewer muscles. But we’re not going to insult Ken because Ken would not have tried to be so blatantly erotic on the dance floor; Ken didn’t need to because it was obvious he was sexy. Rico Suave seemed to need to shout it from the rooftops to be convincing, and guess what? It took us about 20 seconds in to realize that those white pants and shoes screamed “used car salesman” instead. So we’ll just call him Rico or I Have A 1986 Chevy For You In The Back Lot…
Maks Chmerkovskiy - We can’t think of a darn thing that was memorable with regard to whatever character he was supposed to be, but he is now to be forever known as “Pretty in Pink.” Also, he says he doesn’t spray tan, but this is mighty curious. He had that glistening oiled up greasy thing going on – not quite shellacked but more like the shiny dome of Mr. Clean but on his chest instead of his head. Come to think of it, he kind of looks like Mr. Clean, and if he happened to be all oiled up (because isn’t that supposed to be sexy?) we realized there are logistical issues that need analysis. Wouldn’t all that oil get on all that pink and show up on the shirt, and then if he threw the pink shirt into the washer, there would be a fire hazard because anything with oil on it should never be washed in a washing machine because it’s flammable….don’t you see that our minds couldn’t stay on his dance or his character because of the high risk of fire involved in laundry detail?
Mark Ballas - Here we have proof that Mark Ballas is trying to be a first cousin twice removed to Gavin DeGraw and second cousin twice removed to Tristan MacManus. We call him Gavin MacManus. He clearly thought he had inherited the “I can wear this hat and look cool” gene from the DeGraw side of the family, and was probably disinherited by his Irish relatives for trying to pull off the suspenders that only one pro dancer can successfully pull off. Besides, we feel sorry for him because he was drunk in Newark instead of San Juan, so we’ll let him pretend to be related a little longer. We know he’s not really related and the Gavin MacManus thing just sounds kind of cool; he probably just wants to be somehow connected to two such very cool dudes.
Jaleel White - We think he was a misguided elephant hunter who somehow ended up on a dance floor somewhere in the middle of Trenton or Raleigh. We do believe there might have been a crime in progress – something like an Attempted Samba Without The Legs, Hip, or Arm Action. Or maybe it was a one of those drunken dances my Uncle Frank did at weddings and bar mitzvahs. That’s probably it. We think his name is Bruno Inaba because those 2 crazy judges seemed to think he was good. It had to be a family thing.
Donald Driver – This is a conundrum because we aren’t exactly sure who he is or what story he told. He looked like a big, badass football player on the dance floor; you know the kind – the ones who can pick up women (literally) and fling them around the dance floor at any bar in any place and look good doing it. The problem is that the dancing looks just like the football playin’. It’s mean, it’s fierce, and it’s fast, but not so rhythmic or sexy. We’ll just call him Donald Driver because that’s who he was on the dance floor. He wasn’t Ricky Ricardo, Ricky Martin, or William Levy. He was just Donald. That’s okay because Donald is a cool guy and a nice man – but the character forgot to make his way from the parking lot into the ballroom.
Gavin DeGraw– He’s goofy, he’s adorable, and he laughs at himself. Everybody loves this guy and whoever he is, he has spirit and you just want to hug him and watch cartoons with him. Since he had that whole boat thing going on which was a bold move since Len hates all the malarkey, we’re going to call him Popeye the Samba Dancin’ Sailor Man (without the bulging muscles).
Roshon (what’s his last name?) – This one almost slipped our minds, and the funny thing is that Shakes couldn’t even remember his last name when writing this blog and 24 hours later, she still can’t and refuses to look it up. THAT is how forgettable he is. He’s cute, he’s young, and he’s almost like Gumby with rubber legs and arms. Maybe an over-caffeinated Gumby with rubber legs and arms. But Gumby isn’t sexy. Neither was Roshon, but he is kind of funny and takes criticism nicely which is a plus. Somebody that young who doesn’t take himself overly seriously gets character bonus points from us – something we are sure he really appreciates.
Tristan MacManus – Well now, I don’t think any of us will forget – or recover from – our first Tristan Samba experience. Lordy mercy, the man can move. And move. And move. Frankly, we didn’t know where to look first, and that’s all we’re saying on the subject. This party animal is a tease, a flirt, and a ladykiller, and he probably has a different girl every night. Who cares? He knows how to party, and every now and then we all just need to escape to Rio, hit Carnival, and dance all night with a man who looks hot and moves like a sexy dream, twists, turns, and shouts, “Come on, you’ve got this!”, “Two! Three!”, and “Come on! Come on! Come on!” in that party-crazed way that he does. His dancing partner even yelled “It’s party time!” to the audience before they began, and she wasn’t kidding. This was the Party Dance and the Party Animal led the way. We are building a shrine (thanks, Shakira) to Mr. Hips Don’t Lie.
The Best Character of the Evening Award went to none other than Mr. Hips Don’t Lie, followed by Popeye. Ladies and gentlemen, those 2 know how to party, how to win us over, and how to keep us coming back for more. Too bad Popeye isn’t around anymore, but we love him anyway, and he is our second favorite leading man and always will be.
When we first saw the photos of Tristan pre-show, we grimaced, darn near fainted, and wanted to get the brush and take it to his hair. The bad haircut (yeah, we don’t like it) of the previous week was still there, the gorgeous bedhead that has proven to be such an inspiration for so many of our blogs was still gone, and we had us a mess of three inch high lopsided poofiness. What does ABC have against the MacManiacs anyways? Haven't we tuned in week after week to watch Tristan and up their ratings? Haven't we spent hour after hour after hour voting to keep him and Gladys on the show? Haven't we almost killed our computers burning them up with Design a Dance voting? It's hard not to take this bedhead sabotage personally, but we probably all agree that Tristan's bedhead was one of his many anatomical superpowers. So jot this down for the future ABC: We like Tristan shaggy!
Then there was the Freddie Mercury look-a-like thing going on which we have to admit that he pulled off pretty well. But that was nothing. The best part of the night was that this bad boy with bad hair had himself a heck of a gorgeous babe on his arm – even if her fake eyelashes were so weighted down with rhinestones, glitter, and whatever else, that we couldn’t even see her eyes. It didn’t matter. Because it worked. And we have no idea why, or maybe we do because after all Tristan seems to be able to pull off looks that none of the other male pros can even hope to do.
Then we figured that all of these crazy looks had to be part of Bruno’s after show costume party. Why else would the hair be the focal point of the dance? Not the costume with silver tails (hot, but not my cup of tea for everyday wear), not the tattoos (very hot and very appropriate to the costume for this big old party), and not the green and white saddle oxfords/spats that he brought out for this dance after days of us being teased by them in rehearsal and paparazzi videos. Let’s not forget that awful guy-liner that was just flat out creepy. Okay, to be fair we have a difference of opinion on the guy-liner issue. One of us thinks it's kinda icky (Shakes), and the other thinks it's kinda hot in that androgynous, Bowie sort of way (SWAT). Shakes went as far to say it made him look like he had just won the Guiness record for doing pre-show tequila shots, while SWAT thought it made him like a naughty, naughty boy. How could something that creepy be that sexy? It obviously has to do with the costume party at Bruno’s house. But then we were told that for security purposes there was no party. Now should we take this as an insult, and did Tristan get a hot tip that we were planning on attending? After looking back at our own costume choices from our Road Trip blogs (remember those?) perhaps the fear of us showing up in our thimble-sized swimsuit and jaw-dropping tutu was a key factor in our invitation snub. But seriously, we're sure Bruno would have escorted us right up to the VIP table because he finds us quirky and refreshing – adjectives frequently used to describe both of us.
Finally we realized what was happening here. It was all a ruse to trick the other 18 people (or 25 if you count all the big egos) competing in Week 4 (you’re smart – 9 couples = 18 people) into playing a bad game of dress-up. If you thought that the explosion of the ruffles was odd (Melissa), just recall the weird two-toned skintight butt ugly unflattering unitard mess that yes, made Maks’s butt look huge. Then there was the non-costume (Donald) that hypnotized them into a false sense of security. Heck, even Peta was missing the top of her dress – she had the bra and not much else. We can't forget that Brooke's hair was so big that it had its own zip code or the fact that Tom Bergeron is never dressed up for theme week? What's up with that? Oh, and don’t forget the “I will never wear lavender again without being afraid” exotic bird makeup sported by Karina and Gavin’s equally strange “I bought my poet-sleeved 1996 glam rock costume at the dollar store” garb, although SWAT did think the guy-liner kinda worked for Gavin as well. Shakes did not. She’s too conservative and boring, and her brain is fried with excessive visions of Samba rolls.
Then there is the hot pink – yeah, of all the colors in the world, put a kid like Roshon in hot pink to dance to that rock classic “Time Of My Life” by David Cook. So Chelsie? What possible reason do you have for the hot pink fiasco? We can't think of a single thing unless you had nightmares about the pink flamingo collection you visualized on Shakes's front lawn. And we are delighted that Sherri went for a very understated and elegant look that, sorry Sherri, screamed that you just came out of the trailer park (probably one with pink flamingos) and became a street walker. Val must have forgotten his shirt at home again (somebody really needs to write his name on the inside tag of his shirts so people can return them to him when they are found) because we were subjected once again to watching him saunter down those stairs in a super sheer over shirt that was due to be returned to “Tacky ‘R Us” because it’s both tacky, overused, and ready for retirement. Let’s simplify things. I think these two were supposed to be thinking Bustin’ A Move but it instead ended up being Bustin' Out All Over.
Let us not forget the attempted Mohawk with the date with the big hair that had absolutely no resemblance at all to Alice Cooper. The residents of my grandmother’s nursing home were closer to reality. Derek? A word of advice. You can’t look fierce, mean, or even rebellious, so give it up. They should have put a Tina Turner wig on Derek...that would have been better. No seriously, we really mean that. You want to play the bad boy, might I suggest you take lessons from the Irish Love Doctor who has more personalities than you want to mess with. Maria? If you can dance you can walk. No need for a piggyback ride...nuff' said. Now we have a problem, MacManiacs. We have no clue what Cheryl was and we have no clue what William was. It wasn’t scary, it wasn’t sexy, it was random. Hmmmm. Maybe Bruno can help us figure it out. Oh wait. Now we know. William must have been the junior member of Menudo’s Dairy Queen's Hell’s Angels.
Then there are Kym and Jaleel. Hmmm. Interesting concept. It ain’t the Nude Review with a token amount of flimsy red scarving and Jaleel in what we call “pimp-er-ooni” costume. What the hell was that? Okay, we get it. It was a leopard on the prowl (leopard scarf and lining) and the red was the blood and guts from the kill. Okay, this was a paso, right? Or was it? We thought it was supposed to be a bull and a cape, not a leopard being hunted on safari by some overdressed hunter - or was she the hunter? We're still not sure. Then we remembered it was a Tango, not a Paso. That was one confusing dance, and the costumes messed with our heads and convinced us it was a New Age Paso, but apparently not. Not only that, but we can definitely see Jagger doing a better job of breaking out that super sexy swagger, but all Jaleel kept blathering about was George Jefferson. Um yeah...and since when is George Jefferson sexy, rock n' roll, or at ALL like Jagger? We love you Jaleel, but sometimes we just have no clue what you're talking about, and all the escalating show drama makes us cranky and impatient.
Now let’s think about the Bad Girl/Bad Boy failure of motorcycle mama Katherine Jenkins. Uh, nope. Not working or me. Mark? You wanna be bad? Go talk to the I.L.D. how to make it believable. That bad boy has the facial expressions and the attitude to pull it off. No offense, Mark, because you’ve done a pretty good job this year in keeping the grimaces under control but on this special night, you looked like you were about to have a root canal. Or a colonoscopy.
So we’re back to the lean, mean, fighting bad-ass rocker dude with the most beautiful of lovely ladies on his arm. Bruno? Meet a real rock star and an Empress of Soul who knows how to sell it.
Remember the Halloween episode from Season 13 where they gave Tristan the most ambitious costume of the evening? They didn't know what to do with the other male pros so they dressed them up as wolf man hybrids and gave Tristan the creepy, yet oddly suiting Mephistopheles. I mean, who else can pull off fake facial hair, sallow green skin, and a tacky as hell top hat? Certainly not Derek. Not Mark. Not Maks, or Val, or any of the rest either. This bad boy knows just how to drive the ladies wild even if he does have bad hair and weird guy- liner that makes one of us hurl and the other one pant.
What was supposed to be “Rock Week” turned out to be nothing more than an excuse to dress up the female troupe members like pole dancers and the male troupe members into French Acrobat Mimes. How, oh how can fish net stockings and male unitards be cool? Please tell us, cause we just can't figure it out.
We've come to realize that this blog has served as much needed bitch-fest regarding the other teams...and perhaps we are being harsh, but sometimes we just don't know where DWTS gets this stuff. Next time there’s a metaphorical costume party at Bruno’s house, I think they should just follow Tom Bergeron’s lead and not show up.
Once again, we decided to provide you with a bit of voting motivation prior to Monday’s Week 4 marathon voting session and the never-ending power voting for Design a Dance because as we would put it, “We was robbed last season, and nobody robs Tristan MacManus of what is rightfully his.” Yessirreebob, we are miffed that Tristan didn’t win DAD last season, and we are still plenty annoyed about that ‘5’ that appeared mysteriously and undeservedly in Week 2. In the words of Twisted Sister, “We’re Not Gonna Take it.” But revenge isn’t the purpose of this mini-blog. It’s all about the gorgeousness of Tristan MacManus – yep, we’re going the shallow route again because that’s just how we roll after a week of ogling photos, screen caps, and video. Our photo choices may surprise you, but being the logical and methodical beings that we are who analyze everything according to the scientific method, we came up with some red-hot sizzling choices that will knock your socks off when you hear the reasoning and look at them from our unique perspectives.
Photo Courtesy of ABC
[SWAT] This week's photo seems just a little too mellow to cause such a stir in the lusty wench part of my brain, but it totally did. I tend to go for the seemingly innocent Tristan pictures, but then my peepers latch onto one that gets me goin' and blow it all to hell. I'm always arguing with the voices in my head on whether the underlying sexiness is what makes a picture like this one so irresistible. Or if I'm merely a pervert and I make everything into something lusty. I think the answer is a hybrid of both angles. Yes I tend to get lusty on occasion when it comes to the deliciously clueless Tristan MacManus. On the other hand everything about Tristan is sexy and perfect, and it's even the little things that have me swooning.
This week, my mini-blog inspiration comes from AcrobatBallet because she was the one that started the conversation on Tristan's frayed jeans pockets, and how the pockets were hot. Seemingly, this would seem like a strange concept to most, but when it comes to Tristan the possibilities are endless. I mean, the man could make a brass money clip sexy.
This picture is just chocked full of sexy little treasures that just get my blood all heated up. First of all, let's just say that apart from the Archie character that I was ranting about in our previous blog, I've kind of made another adorable character discovery. The brown vest and cream colored shirt underneath of course says “gentleman”, but they also scream sexy stable boy to me as well. Wesley (yes I'm doing a Princess Bride farm boy name reference here), is a turn of the century Irish stable boy who has some serious bedroom eyes going on. The fact that Tristan is looking straight into the camera with these jaw dropping twinkling bedroom eyes is also extremely distracting. Do we really need to know what he'd look like if he was looking at us that way? The idea is just too amazing and ridiculous to comprehend. Yes my friends, I'd become a giant puddle of glowing green goo (green cause he's Irish, remember?) ....and so would you.
Of course Wesley, being an Irish stable boy also has a casually unbuttoned collar where we can see a tiny glimpse of that, um, skin. I could go on and on all of the little things that drive me about this picture. His twinkling bedroom eyes -Tristan's beautiful silhouette, and how tailored his Irish Stable Boy vest is to his broad shoulders and well toned chest. Wesley even has a come-hither grin on face telling you that he wants to take you through the lush Irish landscape on horseback.
Annndddd back to planet earth....sorry I get carried away in the characters sometimes. The point I'm trying to make here is like that foxtrot Gladys and Tristan did on The Talk, this picture is smoking hot under the surface, and therefore needs to be discussed by MacManiacs that know what they're talking about. We are all Tristan experts after all. Putting our minds together by looking at this photo, I'm sure we could come up with a book of sexy little Tristanisms. And we all know how great a book that would be....a best seller!
Screen Cap Courtesy of ABC
[Shakes] Clearly, SWAT and I are not as similar as we thought – although I have to admit that she and I did come up with some pretty similar comments on one certain Tristan-related topic a bit earlier in the weekend. It was actually a little bit freaky because we said the same exact words at the same exact time. That, however, has nothing to do with what floats my metaphorical boat when talking about delicious hot photos of the man himself. Last week I chose a screen cap from the Rumba with Peta – the one with those gorgeous arms stretched wide as he prepared himself for her to launch her body against his. That was sexy and full of sensual possibilities, but this week’s choice is taking things in an entirely different direction. It’s sexy, it’s sensual, and heck, I’ll even go so far as to call it erotic, and this eroticism had nothing to do with being naked or anything remotely like it. It’s all about the innate sensuality that makes this man the real deal, and his photographs are indeed a true treasure that gets all kinds of crazy thoughts swirling around in our already mixed-up heads.
For those of you who know me, you know that more than anything I love to laugh, and there’s nothing sexier than a man who can laugh – both at himself (*bad haircut – cough cough*) or at anything else. Humor is a huge turn on, so I bet you can guess where I’m going with this. Therefore, the sexy photo of the week is the screencap from the Tristan and Gladys rehearsal clip from Week 1 when he said, “I’m the hot one on Dancing With the Stars” and then promptly started laughing. The laughter itself is sexier than the dickens, but the expression on his face tells the whole story. They are making me say this – you know it, I know it, and everybody else knows it, so I might as well laugh about it.
The sexiest brand of humor of all is self-deprecating humor, and when that shows itself in his speech, mannerisms, words, or expressions, it becomes hot enough to burn the place down. I’m surprised that the gallery is still intact – particularly when this photo is one of the first you see over there. The eyes twinkle with just a hint of mischief – that is hot. There’s a little bit of the little boy who isn’t a little boy anymore. Nope. This one is all grown up, all right. The grin is broad and cheeky – that’s hot. The lips are, well, let’s just say that I will skip the editorial comments, but the lips are hot too. The hair is a tousled mess of bedhead and believe me, that gets my motor running every time. The brogue? That’s hot. He could say, “I’m gonna go get a poompkin for Halloween”, and it would be hot. Everything about this photo combined with the hint of skin is enough to get the old hormones going all wonky.
This photo for me is just about Tristan and nobody else really. I tried to think of a character that he might represent, and then I remembered his introduction to us from Season 12 when he said, “I suppose I’m a bit of a joker, and I’m hoping to keep things a little bit light-hearted.” Yeah, well he did that all right. The problem is that all that joking around also makes the old pulse rate escalate and the heart start to pound quite frequently. Could I compare the Tristan in this photo to someone else? You bet, I could, but it doesn’t seem quite right because this is a man who can laugh at himself, and there is nothing sexier in the world than that.
Let’s look at the last few men given the title “Sexiest Man Alive” from People.
Bradley Cooper 2011
Ryan Reynolds 2010
Johnny Depp 2009
Hugh Jackman 2008
Matt Damon 2007
George Clooney 2006
Sorry, People, the handsome Irishman in the photo above has them all beat. People might want to reconsider a new cover boy for 2012, and his name is Tristan MacManus. I think we can all agree that humor just takes things to a whole new level of hot.
We have two leading men created from two very different performances of the same dance. When we analyzed the character from the Foxtrot – the man in the brown vest, white shirt, brown pants, and saddle oxfords, we couldn’t figure him out. He was like the young man who had just received his drivers’ license and went to pick up his date to go to a school dance. With the hair as it was (hint: ABC, don’t do that again), all we could come up was he had to be called Archie (from SWAT) or Dilbert (from Shakes). He was a little bit of a nerd who was just a tiny bit unsure of himself. He got his hair cut right before the date, and we all know that’s a big no-no. It never ends well. This one, however, ended just fine.
Our little nerd was adorable and sexy in an offbeat kind of way, and he had his girl blushing and giggling. Adorable, but being the lusty wenches that we are, we’re usually inspired by the moves that leave us hot and bothered, so dare we say it….our nerd kind of left us hanging, you know?
But whoa baby. Something truly magical happened in less than 36 hours, and we ended up with an eye-popping and mind-boggling foxtrot that was not only sexy, but also sensuous, romantic, and unexpected. Dilbert learned from the master of pure (and natural) raw sex appeal - Alex O’Loughlin (or maybe Alex's character, the current Steve McGarrett from Hawaii Five-0); Archie learned how to swagger from Simon Baker. From our own unique perspectives, let’s talk about how it all happened.
[SWAT] Remember in the timeless Archie comics how Archie was always torn between the fun and sweet Betty, and the sultry, yet high maintenance Veronica? We just couldn’t quite understand why Archie could never make up his mind. Both girls were beautiful, and both were crazy about him. You kind of got the impression that he really wanted to be with Betty, but like any other man he was completely seduced by the vixen, Veronica, even if she was a royal pain in the ass. Well after I saw Tristan and The Empress' cheeky little foxtrot, I had to think about who his character was (for blog purposes), and the only one thing that came to my mind was Archie. Archie is a sweetie-pie, and he's always well groomed in that special way that says “I'm totally handsome, in an slightly awkward sort of way.“ Tristan's new hair with the super short sides and long top reminds me of Archie. It's kind of like what a 16 year old from 1957 would have....if he had just survived a hurricane. I'm also thinking that Gladys is definitely the Betty type. Very vibrant, and beautiful, with that sweet never ending smile. So basically the DWTS foxtrot is Archie and Betty's first date.
The entire dance is the very embodiment of puppy love, as I see it. The concept of Tristan and Gladys being Archie and Betty gave me a delicately sweet kind of visual, and I giggled out loud when he came up behind her and tickled her sides as they played that cutesy form of cat and mouse on the dance floor. It was pure cheese but it still was pure in the sense that there were no suggestive themes mucking it up. It was light, it was innocent, it was flirty, and I totally fell for Tristan's Archie character. And yes, I would totally go on a date with him if he asked me. At least you know the first date would be harmless fun, and you'd end the evening feeling like you were dancing on a cloud!
Next, we set our peepers on Tristan and Gladys in The Talk's foxtrot. Talk about upping the hotness factor within hours of dancing the first one. This foxtrot, I've decided, is Archie's first date with Veronica. The lights dimmed, the sexy flirtatiousness between them as they hold each other close and glide to the smooth, romantic sound of Sam Cooke crooning in the background. Oh yeah, and did I mention that Archie has obviously taken some serious swagger lessons from the likes of Simon Baker? Yes you heard me right. Simon ironically has somewhat of a nerdy name but makes up for it in the silent, and smoldering sex god department. He's taught Archie all he knows about exuding strength and confidence while sweeping the insatiable Veronica off of her feet. I'm sure this is how Tristan planned for it to come across when he choreographed this deliciously wonderful routine. I'm certain that Tristan woke up the morning of his first foxtrot rehearsal having this exact Archie/Simon revelation. He and I are of one mind. Okay, so maybe I'm digging a little deeper into Tristan's foxtrot character than he would, but I still love the result. I love this concept because Tristan himself has that same sexy, confident, nice guy persona with the ability to up the heat whenever necessary. For this very reason I believe that Tristan's duel personas for this seasons foxtrot should come together to make one perfect slice of sexy man-cake. Say hello ladies to Archie Baker- The Girl Whisperer.
[Shakes] SWAT saw Archie last Monday in the DWTS foxtrot. I saw Dilbert. I’m not sure who Dilbert is exactly, but that’s the name that came to mind for this dorky dude with the weird haircut who was the most adorable male I have ever seen. He is currently in a three way tie with Bentley Bumtapper (Season 13 suspender dude) and Rascal MacPip (Season 14 vest dude from the Cha Cha) for cuteness. In my weird mind, I perceived Dilbert to be kind of hot in a shy, but surprisingly sexy kind of way. Dilbert from the foxtrot didn’t disappoint. He had a lot of intensity simmering just beneath the surface, but it never really came out, and that’s exactly how he planned it.
He was a devil of a flirt, a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, a chivalrous bloke who made us forget bad hair and focus on his other assets. (Not another word. I’m on dangerous ground as it is even mentioning assets). This handsome charmer was charming without knowing he was charming; clearly his mama taught him well. I have to admit that I fell just a little bit in love with Dilbert, but then I realized that was a mere infatuation compared to the bomb that slammed into me when my eyes took in the absolutely dominating presence of the hunk on The Talk (bad hair was slightly improved).
I think he was waiting for the lady to wear the sleek black dress that showed us how well she had mastered the technique and how well she had managed to adapt to the changes in her man. Dilbert was now the dancing equivalent of the absolutely sizzling Steve McGarrett from Hawaii Five-0 (the current version – not the one from 1968-1980). As developed and characterized by the one and only actor and sex-on-a-stick, Alex O’Loughlin, Steve is confident, powerful (a Navy SEAL, remember), a kick-ass alpha male who knows how to get what he wants. Somehow Dilbert became, Alexander McGarrett. He was raw, sensual power and smoldering sensuality. Is anybody going to argue the point?
I didn’t think so. From the moment he eased those powerful arms around her, their bodies close but not too close, the strength in every movement was apparent. Strength and power are sexy. Fluidity of moments are hot. In perfect synchronization, they mesmerized us with their sensual dance, and she might have been smitten, but she challenged him as well. I have only seen one sexy foxtrot in all the years of DWTS – Gilles and Cheryl did one to Fever by Peggy Lee. This one was better because it wasn’t as obvious. It was flirty but it was more than that. It was sensuous without being embarrassing or obvious. It was sexy in an understated way that is so much sexier than those assorted pros on DWTS who walk around flaunting their bare selves at ever possible moment. The rock t-shirt paired with the black blazer and pants was perfect. It showed just enough arrogance to reveal that he he had confidence, and the look was so unique that it couldn’t have worked on anybody else. So Tristan MacManus and my mixed up character of Alex O’Loughlin/Steve McGarrett is enough fire to keep things interesting for a very long time. Dilbert was hot. Alexander McGarrett was just a flat out off the charts eruption of volcanic proportions. Is there any wonder why the lady was positively smitten? Holy moley. The man can bring it.
Sometimes ladies you just have to tell propriety to “suck it” and let things fly. We have always tried to be restrained in our thoughts and ideas about Tristan, but this week we just had to take a break from all of the introspective crap and wallow in some “shallow” waters. Since we've spent the entire week searching for and editing the most delicious pictures of Tristan, we've decided to pick a couple of our personal favorites and give you our real opinions of them. Forget the artistic photos, or the really sweet pictures (no nothing's wrong with them, they just don't work for this particular angle). We are looking for HOT photos, and these photos just make us want to ramble off a good old fashioned Tristan rant about stuff really important to us. Stuff like how pretty he is. Stuff like how we want to dance with him. Stuff like that. Shallow stuff. Stuff that distracts, enchants, mystifies, enthralls, and yeah, seduces us too. We had to refill our emergency oxygen tanks just to write this one, and we had to get it over with in a hurry because we were spending way too much time, ogling, er, we mean analyzing the pretty pictures. The bottom line is that these photos are being evaluated strictly on the old hotness factor. That’s it.
Photo Courtesy of sgnews.yahoo.com
SWAT: First of all, I have decided that Shakes is no fun. She read my original part of the blog and made me edit out half of that sucker because she thought that I was being a little, shall we say, inappropriate in my comments. I mean, really, me? She's acting like I was lusting for Tristan or having impure thoughts. Okay, so maybe I do have a tendency to get carried away sometimes. I admit it. I guess she's the responsible one of the group after all. She will probably write something revoltingly sickening about the picture reminding her of a lovely waltz. I won't hold that against her. Now there's nothing wrong with the waltz, but my selected photo reminds me in no way, shape, nor form of the waltz, and in fact, it doesn't even remind me of dancing.
I'm ready to let my bawdy southern girl out and use words like “hawt” and phrases like “Tristan's so sexy he makes me want to smack my momma.” Now I don't normally promote momma smackin' but this picture makes me want to exclaim it. I have always imagined that if the MML MacManiacs got together for a DWTS viewing party, there would be so much uncensored conversation about Tristan that we would all be locked away in the dungeon with the key tossed away. As I see it, pretty much any TV appearance and/or Tristan photo gives me naughty thoughts and then sends me into a subsequent daydream that I choose not to share or that I cannot share for fear of being banisheed. So after warning you about all this, then I’m going to ask that you turn your attention to my chosen photo, if you haven't already, and listen to me rant on about it. At least, the censored rant.
First of all notice in this photo that nothing that Tristan is wearing, matches? It honestly is a hodgepodge of different clothes and styles, including the brown duffel bag he's got slung over that nicely broad sexy man shoulder. This seems like it could be an innocently “cute” picture of Tristan, but I'm telling you this photo has the potential to cause a nuclear meltdown. One thought that comes to mind is that this is what he left the house wearing one morning because he overslept. This beautifully snug black t-shirt is probably what he slept in the night before, so super sexy morning bedhead Tristan was rolling around in it all night while dreaming about me. HAWT!!!! I’m not getting carried away yet, am I? Oh too bad. It’s my dream.
There are many MANY things about this picture that I find myself panting over. Tristan's overall effortless look is hot, and even the little red pops of color on his shoes are oddly fascinating. I could go on about the tousled bedhead that makes me swoon, his tight fitting black shirt that hugs his perfectly cut (not too bulky but not skinny either) chest. You can tell he's been rehearsing, and that he's probably all sweaty. No worries there. It doesn’t matter. This photo is the stuff fantasies are made of. The clean cut bad boy is as enticing as any bad boy because we know what simmers just beneath the surface. He has the capacity to transform into many diverse characters on the ballroom stage, and every single one is just another facet of Tristan himself. But forget the characters, the acting, and the bad boy. There is one thing about this picture that just sets me off into cross-eyed girl bliss. You can totally wonder where Tristan could possibly be going in this picture. Of course, he's coming home to see you cause he's your inexplicably clean cut bad boy boyfriend who's just gotten home from rehearsal….yeah, and I’m going to leave it at that except for the part where he takes you off for a nice walk down to The Cold Stone Creamery, where you split a Gotta Have It sized “Founders Favorite” sundae and he feeds you spoonfuls of sweet cream ice cream and brownie bits. I'm already letting out a Tristan induced operatic “Hallelujah” right now!
Screen Cap Courtesy of ABC
SHAKES: Here's the thing. I. Am. In Love.
Not with my husband, not with Gilles Marini, and not with my really cute pet fish that is usually more fun than my husband. Today I am in love with the man in the picture to your left. Frankly, my eyes have crossed 73 times today - every time i look at that delicious screen cap, I think of dancing, dancing with Tristan, dancing with The Lover from the previous blog, and unlocking all the mysteries to the character he portrays.
First of all, is he not gorgeous? That photo projects power, sensuality, passion, and intensity. And don’t forget sexuality, heat, desire, and that whole love and lust battle that is supposed to command a rumba but very rarely does. When I win the DublinDown330 raffle, I’ve already declared that I will be doing the Samba – the party dance – because I’m all about the party and all. But I might have to mix it up and throw in a little Rumba – maybe we’ll call it the Ramba or the Sumba. I’m sure Tristan, the dreamboat will go for it. Maybe it will be the Sexy Hips dance – Ill just sit on the floor and watch the sexy hips move. It's my fantasy, and I can do what I want.
If, however, he doesn’t go for the hybridization of dances, we’ll take the Peta moves and throw them into my new performance number, which I will master in one hour in my own little messed up fantasy. That will be one little happy dance. The reality is that it would take me years to learn how to do three basic moves, and I know it, but this whole fantasy thing is kind of fun because I can do what I want. Let’s think about this logically. Those arms are stretched out. Remember how Peta ran to him and he used one arm to twirl her around? That was hot. Hotter than hot. I want to do that, but I imagine when I grab him to hold on for dear life (assuming I could run across the floor in my Dr. Scholls wooden sandals – I mean my gold dancing shoes), I would probably pull him down to the floor or he would get a hernia or something. Plan B involves that move that he and Peta did early on where he gave a little bounce to prepare himself for her to launch herself high against his chest and drape her body around his like, well, shrink wrap. Can I do that please? I asked SWAT and she said, “No, no, and hell no.” She probably just wants to do it herself, or she thinks I'll strangle him with my kneecaps.
So what conclusions can I draw from the delicious screen cap? I can tell the man knows how to convey about 90 emotions in one smoldering look. I know his arms are incredibly sexy, and he’s buff and fit without looking like a body builder. I like that he has on the vest without the shirt; it’s just enough to make me crazy, and I am always at my best when I’m a little bit crazy. Tristan planned it that way, I’m sure. He makes me crazy.