My husband’s big dance competition (which raises money for his old high school) is this weekend.
He just had his safety dance pants pressed.
Actually, he’s not wearing those but obviously I’m praying for some kind of costume with reflectors.
When he’s not rehearsing, we’ve been watching “Dancing with the Stars.” I love to listen to what the judges think of the pseudo celebrities’ performances but it’s hard to hear what they’re saying because my husband is always piping in with his critique…
“Who ever that playmate girl is – she’s totally not finishing her moves. She should be popping those kicks!”
“He’s all hunched over. He needs to use his core for better balance.”
“The button was good, but that middle part was a mess. They’ve got too much in their heads.”
If only Wendy Williams had gotten some of Rick’s coaching before she and her boobs foxtrotted into the sunset.
Meanwhile, Rick was recently offered some free triathlon training.
A triathlon?! What is it with people wanting to run, swim and bike ridiculous distances?! Doesn’t anyone just sit on their couch and eat chips anymore?
Rick’s dad (who’s in town helping me this week because my dad somehow escaped to Arizona for a few days – I’ve got to keep a better eye on that guy) mentioned that Rick did not exactly have the typical runner’s body which tends to be long, lean and lanky with one percent body fat.
But we decided Rick could create a new niche… the brawny or husky triathlete!
The training starts on Monday.
On the couch.
P.S. I’ll keep you posted on how Rick does in his Cherry Hill Dancing with the Stars competition.
P.P.S. I’m obviously hoping for some kind of emotional stirring, romantic tribute like Ralph Macchio (the karate kid) gave his wife this week.
P.P.P.S. I’m thinking I might not get that romantic tribute now that I’ve referred to my husband as the “husky triathlete.”
mama bird notes:
Do you live in New York City? Do you have kids? Do you love day-glow fish who can sing? Well, then click here to read my view of John Tartaglia’s ImaginOcean!