Let's get something straight. I don't watch Dancing with the Stars for the dancing. I don't watch it for the sequined costumes that look like a bedazzler threw up on them. I don't watch it to see the chicks from Hairspray and American Pie respectively shake their tatas. I don't watch it to mourn the loss of what was once Priscilla Presley's face.
I watch it for Jason Taylor.
The Miami Dolphins heartthrob is just as comfortable on the dance floor as he is on the 50 yard line and tonight, he rhumbaed just a little bit deeper into my heart. Looking very Ralph Lauren chic in a cream sweater and khaki slacks, he seduced me and every other hot-blooded woman in the country...and some men.
It was Samba and Rhumba night and in case you missed it, here's a full rundown: Mario, aka Poopie (don't ask) sold the hips but not the footwork, Priscilla missed a turn, and a Botox treatment, Marissa shook her tush and her big hair, Christián was competent, Marlee missed some beats, Kristi let her hair down and was one point shy of getting the gold, Shannon's hotness couldn't mask her awkwardness, and Jason was...ahhhh....everything a Jason should be.
Do I even need to answer? Be still mi corazon.
*Keepin' it real.