Oh Yeah. I'd Watch Him Dance. Or Do Anything. Or Nothing. It Doesn't Really Matter As Long As It's Johnny ...


Oh, I'm sorry.

Did I say I thought Dancing With the Stars was a giant cheese-fest best described as the "Portal to Oblivion"?

Goodness. That sentiment is so last season.

As usual, events move quickly in the Whiplash World of Johnny Weir, and I am racing to keep up, gasping for breath and looking a bit flushed, as if something far more interesting and athletic than blogging was going on here .