
by Kate Collins
I’ll admit it. I’m a Dancing with the Stars junkie. I simply can’t get enough. It doesn’t even bother me anymore that the lineup of “stars” are many people I’ve never heard of. To me, it’s about watching the transformations from a state of two-left-footedness (and I don’t care if that’s not a real word; it works for me) to a skillful, or at least semi-skillful, dancer.
I’m not too fond of the formulaic aspect – one young Olympic gold medalist or comparable athlete, one or two super sports stars, two or three actors, and a senior citizen – because the competition seems too predictable. Yet I’ve been surprised, and in one case, appalled. If you’re a fan, you know who I mean.
The hiatus between seasons is pure misery for me. Of course, this is aided in large part by the abysmally horrid shows on television this year. I mean, seriously, besides Castle, 30 Rock, reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, Masterpiece Theater, and just about anything on HGTV, what is there to watch?
So it is with great anticipation that I look forward to tomorrow nig

I can’t wait for this train to leave the station. Anyone on board with me?
Kate