Anyway, the results show last Thursday opens with a faux-"normal" stage and judges, only to be interrupted by the horrifying attack of dancing terrorists hell-bent on disrupting this most American of institutions, the televised dance competition. They tie up Nigel and push him around the stage a bit, and we are treated to a few of the more terrifying close-ups I've ever seen on television — Nigel's eyes theatrically bugging out of his head as though they're trying to escape his skull and eat my flesh.
Seriously? YIKES.
Then the Dolls, then the poppers, and then the dancing for the lives. I can't even remember who got eliminated, honestly. It's week one, and there's twenty of these people — I can barely tell my own sisters apart. What do you want from me?
More than anything else, I'm honestly just relieved SYTYCD is back — when the weather's on fire, and the day job's draggin' me down, what I need in the evening is something stupid, weird, and fun. And... cue the music.
Article comments