The first thing to note about the Dancing with the Biggest Loser is that it is hosted by the worst thing since Caroline Rhey. Apparently after Jerry Springer was kicked to the curb for his sub-par work on America's Got Talent, the universe had to realign its amount of terrible on television. Melissa Jaret Winokur of Hairspray and Dancing With the Stars fame is a trainwreck. She's that girl you meet at a party who won't stop drinking screwdrivers and ruining every conversation being had.
Guy 1: "Oh, man...remember that time we drew all over Dan's face!"
Guy 2: "That was so crazy!"
Guy 1: "Yeah, we were wasted."
MJW: "Oh my gog, I'm so wasted!"
Whenever I get too upset about her poly-plastered smile, I think that she probably weeps softly everynight after ritualistically eating 27 ho-hos and doing voodoo acts on Nikki Blonsky's picture. It must suck to have lost out on the movie version of the only role you'll ever be good at.
Anywho, there's dancing on the show too. The panel is composed of Mayte, the chick who used to bang Prince and Tommy Lee (we've all seen her lips tattooed to his neck), choreographer Danny Teeson (who looks like a slightly gayer Howie Mandel), and Lisa Ann Walter (from Celebracadabra--that's totally legit). Mayte tells everyone to watch their arms and Lisa Ann attempts to talk through her lip injections. Danny creepily oggles the fat men and it's all very community television.
The actual dancing is something to behold. It's strange, like watching people move in Sumo suits. I want very badly for this entry not to be about making fat jokes. It's kind of a terrible thing to do and I'd like to think that I'm better than that. However, it's hard to ingore the fact that these people doing these kinds of moves is like watching a science experiment at best. I mean, this!? This is just mean. Stop it with the costumes that I would fit into.
Disturbia is right.
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