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Have you ever seen this show, "So You Think You Can Dance"? Basically, it's the dance version of "American Idol." There's a judge named Mary Murphy--I think she's supposed to be the Paula Abdul of the show--and quite frankly, I think she may be one cheer away from a complete breakthrough. Take a look at her:

This is her facial expression at all times. Even when someone flubs an arabesque, tumbles forward, and does a face plant into the cold wooden stage. It doesn't stop her from flashing that smile and telling the dancer how amazing his or her routine was. She has this habit of cheering so loudly it makes me wonder if she's convinced that this is her show. During these moments of extreme jubilation, her voice sounds like a cross between one of those beauty pageant mothers and a drunk freshmen after her first night at the bar. "Woooo! My daughter's accomplishments prove I wasn't an ugly kid. And I love tequila, Yeah! Woooo!" [sob, honk, sob]

My point: there's no way this woman can be this enthusiastic. If you've seen the show, you know what I'm talking about. It looks like a front for some deep-seeded emotional problem. Or maybe she's just trying to play that Paula Abdul role, and she's just a horrible actress.

No, that doesn't sound right.

At one point in this competition, someone's going to nail a dance routine, triggering one or several repressed memories--maybe the one when she was six, and her mom insisted she would never be a ballerina. When that moment happens--when those memories surface, and she's able to articulate them live on TV: "I was a damn good dancer, Mom! Take that"--I'll be glad I tuned in.

Until then: yeah, they got some pretty good dancers on the show.