So this week John Ratzenberger got sent home. People may not remember, but he did step in at the very last moment to replace Vincent Pastore, and even though he was playing catch up, he had a really positive attitude about this experience, and was sort of the father figure of the crew. So it was sad to see him go. I know Billy was on the chopping block with John and I would have felt awful if Billy got sent home since this past week he took time out of his rehearsal to hang with me a little and help me loosen up. I had a blast learning the bubba chicken (I had no idea what I was doing but I certainly had fun doing it), and I think Billy's fun-loving attitude really helped me relax and start having more fun.Believe it or not, I think the fact that we had two dances to learn this week gave me the chance to stop stressing. There just wasn't any time for me to overanalyze (which I certainly do): I learned the steps and moved on. And with Billy's help, I had fun, too! If I get sent home ...
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Before I write this week’s Dancing with the Stars blog, I wish to extend my most sincere and heartfelt wishes to the entire Virginia Tech family. Words simply cannot convey my overwhelming sense of sorrow. My prayers and thoughts are with those affected by this tragedy, now and forever.This week, we saw Clyde Drexler get voted off. Clyde is the epitome of what it means to be a class act. All I can say is that if the DWTS producers put basketball hoops at both ends of the dance floor, every dance for Clyde would have been a slam-dunk. You know the expression, “Every pot has a cover?” Well, I’ve discovered — the hard way — that every dance has a pain. The cha-cha wreaks havoc on the feet; the quickstep and jive do a number on your legs; the samba destroyed my lower back from all the hip action. I felt the judges scored last week’s samba performance fairly, and with each future dance, I hope to continually improve for the sake of the judges, the fan...
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Let's state the obvious about last week's show: I made a misstep. Missteps happen. I didn't want it to happen, it shouldn't have happened, but it happened. While I take Dancing with the Stars insanely seriously — I'm in this competition to win — I didn't feel that the misstep took away from the overall dance performance. (I mean, my buns haven’t moved like that... ever!) The judges, however, felt otherwise. Cheryl, who is obviously a dancer without peer, does such an amazing job with the choreography, and I really feel like I let her down. Anyway, what happened, happened. Now we have our next dance to consider: the waltz.Ah, the waltz. What can I say about the waltz? One would think this is the perfect dance for me, since the waltz originated in Vienna, and my grandfather, Joseph Ziering, came to the United States via Austria. Yeah, one would think it's the dance for me, but the truth is that I am a very high-energy "toe-tapping fingers-snapping" kind of person, and...
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Let me start by saying this: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if at any point in my lifetime, through thought, word or deed, I somehow came to think that dancing was just a form of recreation and not a sport, and that those who participated were not athletes. Though the extent of my dance-competition exposure was really limited to Saturday Night Fever and my niece's dance recitals, I never really gave thought to professional dancers as athletes.I do now. When I was invited to be on Dancing with the Stars, I was apprehensive about how my friends and family would respond. Would they think it was goofy? Did they think I could dance? Would they support me? Heck, would they take the time to vote for me, or, as a goof, vote for a competitor? Well, I was floored (no pun intended) by their response: They all knew — and loved — the show. Everyone, from my L.A. friends to my family in New Jersey, New York and Connecticut, was so supportive and excited to see me on their ...
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