People like to say things like 'Aren't you man enough to watch dance shows on television?'. And I like to say things like 'why don't you go ask your mother' and then kick them hard in the knee and run. The point is, watching dudes in sequins dancing to prove your manhood is like proving you're not allergic to bee stings by sticking your arms deep into a hive. You don't need to suffer to disprove a negative. You're smarter than that. So, like me, you stand outside the Dancing With the Stars studios waiting for the more prudent ogling opportunity of curvaceous girls such as Christina Milian in a sheer dance outfit, all sweaty and bra revealing and the like.
There are two ways to find buried treasure. A map and kicking the sand up and down the beach for twenty years. I'm going with map, which currently is pointing me in the direction of a giant X on the bum-side of Christina Milian. Enjoy.