Last night, like an idiot, I watched the trainwreck that is Superstars of Dance, because Miriam Larici and her partner were the tango duo representing Argentina and she’s always lovely to watch.

It was a total, total clusterfuck, you guys.

1. Only eight countries invited. USA, Australia, South Africa, Russia, Ireland, China, Aregntina, and India – apparently the only eight countries in the world with voices in the powerful International Talent Show Lobby! Fun fact.

2. Each country got a soloist, a duet, and a group, whose scores all added up to a combined score, with random mixes of duets and solos and group numbers. Michael Flatley (who can no longer move his face, it’s like a marionette), who was a little tipsy, could hardly keep the numbers and ranking straight even when he was reading them off a huge screen right in front of him.

3. I think that, for the vast majority of these dancers, it’s not so much “Superstars of Dance” as it is “People Who Weren’t Busy.”

4. The Indian duet BUTCHERED “Dola Re Dola.” Here’s the thing; if you’re going to copy a famous movie choreography, do it, and do it well, and then put it on public access TV like the rest of us. (These girls are about fifty times better than the actual pair of girls that were on TV.)

Even better would be to not copy 90% of your choreography from one of the most famous Bollywood movies of all time, because chances are that Madhuri Dixit is somewhere on the internet doing that choreography herself, and doing it better.

5. Miriam Larici and partner did not embarrass tango as an art form. I couldn’t say the same for the soloist, who looked like a stripper, and I dread their group number coming up tonight.

6. The Indian soloist gave an interview about how she would be performing Indian classical dance, and then rocked the house. Then Michael Flatley asked her if she was doing classical Indian dance. Oh, drunk Flats!

Seriously, I just think none of these people were busy. I cringed for two hours last night, and since I fast-forwarded so much on my TiVo that I ended up watching only half an hour of show, the other 90 minutes was residual cringing. (This is also why I don’t like theatre – I get so tense for people who have a live audience watching them that it gives me a peripheral panic attack.)

What I’m saying is, my Monday night just opened up.

Dear Friends,

Technically this is a Thanksgiving warning, since we will all be going home and trying to deal with relatives and friends through a few bottles of wine. However, it is an all-purpose warning, really: if you are drunk (or sober, this is seriously all-purpose), Avoid Dancing Alone.

When you dance alone, you think you look cool. It’s ingrained in us; we have a the genetic need to do the Shopping Cart at random intervals, to chase away potential predators. However, when this urge hits you, please remember that you are not in any danger; doing the Shopping Cart can only drive potential mates away.

How You Look, According to Your Inner Belief System:

How You Look, According to Video Footage (courtesy of your Aunt Phyllis or possibly your little cousin Cody who’s only six but already knows how to program Linux):

When you Dance Alone, you only hurt yourself. And possible relatives standing too close to you. Don’t be that person, okay? Just don’t.

(I speak from experience. That video footage is not pretty the day after. Or, you know, ever. WHY CAN’T YOU BURN A DIGITAL FILE IN A CLEANSING FLAME OH GOD.)