The only reality show I watch is "Dancing with the Stars." My parents tried to get me to watch "Survivor" the other night but I pulled myself up to my full height of 5',3 1/2" and said, "I don't want to and you can't make me." (This spine of steel crap only goes so far when they're bailing you out but they let it slide.)
I got to watch the semi-finals and the grand finale of "Dancing with the Stars" with my father. Here are a few areas where the generation gap comes into play:
He thinks Samantha Harris (the co-host) has arms that are too muscular. He makes running comments about not wanting to face her in a fight or how she must go out every morning and bench press her car. I think her arms are amazing. She has muscle definition and no underarm flapping. I know you're not supposed to covet things but secretly I covet her arms.
He thinks her voice is too deep and sounds like a man. He does a mean impression of her which sends me into a fit of giggles. I think her voice is sultry in a Lauren Bacall kind of way.
Too bad the show is over for now. My dad and I will have to find someone else to critique and/or admire.
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2 comments:
When I get there you can both admire my arms.
I would rather have arms that look like I can bench press, anything than my bus driver arms! I will take note not to wear sleeveless shirts around Paul.
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