Ok, I’m a TV junkie. There, I admit it. And, while I’m confessing my pop culture vices, I’m addicted to my People magazine – can’t complete/start the week without it.

Yes, my TV tastes are hard to reconcile—an adoring fan of intellectual fodder such as “Downton Abbey” and “Homeland” yet succumbing to imbecilic nonsense like (ok, this is troubling, I know) “Keeping Up With The Kardashians.”

But, my current high is from “Dancing With The Stars.” I’ve yet to cast a vote but I’m fully engrossed watching those sexy bodies put to the performance test. The entertainment value is all there –  injuries, fights between dance partners, fights among the judges, outrageous costumes, and then, of course, the competition (sports figures really excel, including bulky football jocks) and the tension-in-the-air elimination rounds. Viewer votes have saved many a pair from dancing off into the sunset. The ultimate reward for the “stars” is the weekly exposure and, for some of the C-listers who appear, a revitalized image to help a comeback career. Oh, yeah, and then there’s that goofy “mirror ball trophy” (big whoop!)

BTW, 3 DWTS “pro” male dancers – including one of the sexiest on the show and planet, Maxsim Chmerkovsky – own a dance studio just about 4 blocks from our office here in SoHo (be still my heart.) I’ve been trying so hard to concoct an event we can propose to one of our clients that would use the studio for the venue – isn’t that a great idea? Alas, it’s not looking too promising. Not looking too promising, either, is that I’d ever have the courage to strap on a pair of dancing shoes for a lesson. I’m content to tune in for my fix.