Well, it's July and I've decided that perhaps it's high time to stop mooning over The Royal Wedding and move on to something new. Dance and summer. Dance is an interesting thing. It's one of those art forms I make believe I know something about and am good at. Spoiler alert #1: It's just make believe I don't and I'm not. Summer is also a wonderful season. I realized it's the time of year I tend to blog about tv. Spoiler alert #2: This season is no different.

No different because So You Think You Can Dance season 8 is going on right now. And thanks to the miracle of tv on the internet, I've been watching each show like it is a miracle. I can't tell you the five different kinds of happy and excited I get as I watch the dancers and choreographers do their thing whilst knitting like a mad person, talking to the screen. Tonight was no different. I had created my customary SYTYCD (guess what that means and you'll finally become a sytycd insider) nest on my bed, had the blinds closed and fan humming, when I was blindsided by this beauty:

Feel that little stirring near your heart? That's the fat sack of emotions being ding dong ditched on your proverbial door step by this routine. Excuse me, Cat Deeley (of whom I'm not overly fond) you must warn me before you decide to show a beautiful dance about the seven stages of grief performed by seven rather wonderful (and not so bad to look at) men. If you don't, I'm liable to pass out.