Sad Dancing With the Stars Diaries is a series in which we imagine the innermost feelings of Dancing With the Stars contestants, as written in their “journals.”
What the flippin’ Hell? It was switch up week this week and did y’all see how excited Louis was to get away from me? And he got paired with Tamar and did a samba to a song by that young black pop star Beyoncé and just I am so steamin’—
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.
I’m sorry I’m court ordered to count to ten whenever I get a little racist.
This week I was paired with Mark Ballas who is a young, edgy little muscular cupcake. And I told him that Louis is always treating me like a, I don’t know, like an old basket case who needs to be contained. But baby, I can’t be contained. I am a 68-year hunk of aged blue cheese. Get me hot and I’ll melt into a puddle of cream!!! Haha!!!!
And I just felt so young and moist that I lifted my skirt up all the way over my head during our number. And I think that I did a good job because Carrie called me a, “Naughty little crazy silver fox.” Me!
Then Julianne said something about Mark bringing the milk for my cookies and I made a joke about Mark getting semen all over my red dress and everyone loved it and laughed and played along. Oh diary, it feels good to joke around with the young kids.
Then I went to the green room and showed everyone my panties because they said “Shake it!” on ‘em and I was feelin’ so alive!!!
Later, Alek Skarlatos and Emma did that sexy slow dance and he touched her all on her rear end and his thick hands and... Whew, honestly I know they are secretly doin’ the dee, I mean how can they not be? And that’s fine, because I slept with Victor Espinoza earlier. I’ve been tryin’ to start something with Louis but he doesn’t seem real interested which I can’t understand.
Then Alexa and Derek Hough did a tango that really knocked my socks off— it was so modern and fierce and they got a perfect score and I guess I understand.
Here’s me and Louis and Tamar (ok) hanging out:
Overall, diary, I am happy. I am havin’ fun. I am goin to my tri-weekly court-ordered anger therapy sessions. I just wish— I don’t know. I wish some of the other kids viewed me as their peer and not some old over-sexed grandma. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like that sometimes, but sometimes it gets a little old? Ha— no pun intended!!!!!
Maybe I’ll confront has-been Nick Carter about it next week.
Biscuits n’ gravy,
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