As I've stated many times, I'm getting tremendous enjoyment from the current crop of dance shows on television. Unlike some people, who professes his love for Marie Osmond only to focus on how he looked during his own melodramatic swoon, I was truly afraid I had seen Marie drop dead before my very eyes. (Even though Marie totally let me down the night I managed brother Donny's concert and she was scheduled to be in the opening night audience. Alas, she pulled a no-show, and dashed my pathetic if unapologetic hopes of meeting her.) But despite the fainting scare, I've been truly enjoying this season of Dancing With The "Stars". And even though I snarkily question the shows' relatively loose definition of Star, it seems that America has decided that they would rather watch a couple of over 40 year-old ladies they've actually heard of entertain them than a 20-something nobody with a decidedly chunky butt. OK, true but mean. But it appears that America finally decided to ask the question I've been asking for over three weeks now:
What the fuck is a Cheetah girl?
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