At some point in my life I’d probably see all this as a sign of some deep depression or a marking of the end of the period in my life, but goddamn, I friggin love So You Think You Can Dance. I can’t wait to see it. I count down the days. Two hours seems too short for an episode. Last week, my wife and I made a rare childless excursion to the movies to see Iron Man. Twenty minutes into the movie, I leaned over and said, “It’s ok, but it’s not the dancing.”
I am pumped about this. And it scares me.