Here in Onalaska, Prime Time TV is Family Time Mondays through Wednesdays. We all have our respective shows that we want to watch throughout the week, and we watch them together. It's an important thing for us to do. Tuesdays and Wednesdays it's my pick: "American Idol" on Tuesdays, "America's Next Top Model" on Wednesdays. What can I say, I'm a sucker for great/shitty reality TV.

My mother, however, is following in my reality TV footsteps, and she picks on Mondays. I've been trying to work the sitcoms in on Mondays -- I quite enjoy "How I Met Your Mother" (starring Nick Andopolis and Doogie Howser) -- but because I've got two nights, I relented. Her pick -- "Dancing With the Stars."

Oh yes. I've been watching "Dancing With the Stars" every week. It's been pretty traumatizing at the same time as it's actually quite fascinating. Look at Leeza Gibbons trying to be relevant. Look at Clyde "The Glide" Drexler, trying to fox trot. Watch as Billy Ray Cyrus attempts to have a career without his mullet. It's horrifying and interesting at the same time.

When Joey Fatone did a "Star Wars" routine this week, though, that was it. He wrecked "Star Wars" and the novelty of watching this show all in one fell swoop. I liked him, he has personality and a sense of humor, and he's kind of one of those goofy charmers. And... well, he was in 'NSync, god damn it. ...not that I ever... you know... liked them or anything...

Uh, anyway, there is one redeeming factor in this show, aside from staring, watching, waiting for Heather Mills' leg to go flying across the stage (is that heartless?): every week, Jimmy Kimmel teaches us how to dance with his parking lot security guard, Guillermo. Observe:



Seriously? It almost redeemed the horrific monstrosity that was this:



Okay, not quite. What the fuck is that?