DWTS: Week 9 - See Ya Brandy (and Maks)!

Brandy demonstrates how to properly operate a 1998 Honda Accord.

Before I discuss the calamity of Brandy and Maks getting voted off, let's take a look back at Monday night's show to see how it all transpired. It was down to the Final Four: Brandy, Jennifer Grey, Bristol the Pistol and Kyle, who is probably going to play so many video games once this show is over.

The show kicked off with Brandy divulging how nervous she was of getting kicked off. She talked about Jennifer's Dirty Dancing legacy, Kyle's lovable personality and how The Pistol's mom has such smooth and buttery legs for a woman who seems to live such an outdoor lifestyle. Well, she didn't exactly say that, but I have a hard time paying attention when people talk for more than eight seconds. I also have a hard time watching Dancing With the Stars when the Eagles are playing the Redskins, but I love my wife, value our relationship and she promised she'd click over to the game once it started. She also promised she would leave me if Maks ever came into her life.

Sarah Palin as Miss Wasilla 1984. Could she have also won Miss Ocean City? 

Jennifer was next and I quickly realized that we (Jennifer and I) have gotten to the point in our relationship where everything that she says and does is annoying. It's truly a shame because despite her emotional breakdowns and manufactured face, she was Ferris Bueller's sister. Now, I know that her character in that movie was kind of a drip, but she was still kind of cool and nothing like this lunatic woman that she has become. Following her dance number that received ALL TENS, Brooke Burke asked her the incredibly insightful question, "How does that feel?" Great question Brooke, do you mean, how does that feel that I got all 10's or how does it feel to have to answer this same dumb question twice a night every single week from you and your boob job that I must say is MUCH better than mine? Brooke then told the audience that we have to vote, because the dancers' futures are in our hands, to which my wife replied by saying, "Brooke, if you tell me what to fucking do one more time ..."

And that my friends is the first F bomb dropped on TV My Wife Watches ... it only took 49 blog posts, but the seal has been broken. Very fitting that it was my gutter-mouthed wife to break the ice. Now I am so excited to finally be able to quote NWA and my mother.

Also, this brings me to reason #337 why I have no idea how to survive in a relationship: my wife doesn't like being told what to do. In my bachelor days when I was dating anything that moved (and yes, I would've also dated women who couldn't move, like chicks in wheelchairs, lazy chicks and very very old women), I found that girls LOVED being told what to do. Not in the whole, degenerate Italian South Philly "get me a sandwich" kind of way, but in the whole "this is what we're going to do tonight, this is where we're eating and this is what you're going to wear in the bedroom and yes it is jungle themed and yes you have to call me King Kong or possibly King Dong or if I'm in an even more aggressive dictator-type mood, Kim Dong-Il."

I would even ask them out on a date in a more suggestive way. For example, instead of saying:

"Hey, um, I was wondering if you were busy on Thursday night? And wanted to maybe go out with me ... ?"

I would say:

"Hey, I'm going to a comedy club on Thursday night. It's gonna be great, you should come with me."

And they would always be thinking, "Yeah, it will be great. I should go with him. Even though he honestly looks and acts exactly like Woody Allen." Unless of course they could see through my smokescreens and were opposed to dressing up like jungle women in the bedroom. But in that case, who would want to be with them anyway?

The point is, MY WIFE DOES NOT LIKE BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO. If she's eating a sandwich and there's a tiger on her left that's about to eat her hand off, I can't tell her, "Hey Darrie, you should hold the sandwich in your right hand because there's a tiger on your left and he's about to eat your hand off," she'll just say, "Don't tell me what to do," and dangle the sandwich in her left hand a la Sandy Koufax.

Anyway, my wife was not going to be voting on Monday night.

These guys know what I'm talking about!

Bristol was interviewed next and while Brandy made sure to say nice things about all of her fellow competitors, The Pistol threw out this bomb, "I think people like me because I'm not fake, like the typical Hollywood star." Well Pistol, you make a nice point and it's even better that you're trying to keep it real, but people like you because you grew up in a twisted household with an insane mother who despite all of her faults would probably look GREAT in a leopard print bodysuit.

And now for a way way way too serious tangent about actual dancing:

I think Mark Ballas really really really wants The Pistol to break out of her shell and do well in this competition, which is very ambitious of him considering how difficult it is to dance with a partner who is actually in a coma. In doing this though, Mark's dancing is way over the top with ridiculous facial expressions and Sandy Koufax arm dangles. I understand that he is doing everything in his power to entice some sort of emotion out of his zombie partner, but the result is that he unfortunately shows her up. He needs to get some tips from that Levi fella as to how to get The Pistol to unleash the beast. All that being said, The Pistol had her most vibrant routine on Monday night and proved to have more life in her than Albert Haynesworth.

I know what you're thinking: did Charlie Sheen give that couch gonorrhea?

Speaking of a chubby black dude, Kyle is certainly peaking at the right time and is now the sentimental favorite to take home the title. Plus, you gotta love that his partner does not have the slim legs and perfect body of most dance professionals or Republican Vice Presidential candidates. I'm not saying she's big, because she's not, she's toned and beautiful, but you gotta admit that her legs are legitimately thicker than those of her peers. And I love that she puts it all out there. I also think Kirstie Alley is doing just fine in this world and support her in all of her future endeavors.

I only sort of watched the second half of the show while Michael Vick was going bonkers, but did find out that both Brandy AND Jennifer killed people in car accidents? Also, how many people's brains exploded while they were driving home and listening to the Eagles game on the radio and also got into car accidents? As an Eagles fan, I almost wanted to drive my car into a tree just to celebrate. THAT WAS AMAZING.

I sort of really love this guy too.

It's a shame that Tom Bergeron had to ruin everyone's fun when he announced at 9:58 Eastern Standard Time last night that Brandy had been voted off. Up until that time, it had been a wonderful day; Prince William got engaged, the Cowboys were still in last place and I ate three donuts in a row and then boom! the biggest travesty in the history of western civilization.

Brandy was without a doubt the best dancer on that show and did not deserve to go home. I'm not even sure who I'm mad at. Initially, it was the Republicans, but I can't hate on them for being so passionate and active when it comes to voting. I wanted to be mad at Andy Reid, but that guy is a boss. I guess I'm just angry at the show itself, for sucking me in and making me actually care about pseudo-celebrities and their quest to regain some ounce of fame and popularity in this cruel, judgmental, non-jungle-undergarment-wearing-accepting world. I used to just flip to this show, smile a little bit and make fun of stuff. Now, I'm genuinely invested, write a blog and my wife would SERIOUSLY leave me for Maksim Chmerkoskiy. I guess I feel for Brandy, but I really feel sorry for my wife who will no longer get to see Maks and his Russian borscht butt.

I guess we'll have to switch up the theme this week from Tarzan and Jane to Tchaikovsy's Nutcracker.

I'll let you guess who gets to be the Sugar Plum Fairy and who gets to be the Nutcracker.