Phone rings.

Me: Hello?

Man: Lynn dear? It’s Nigel Lithgoe.

Me: Oh, God.

Nigel: I can tell from your tone that you know why I’m calling.

Me: I can guess.

Nigel: Are you now prepared to admit that you know nothing, nothing at all about dance show? That you should stop trying to predict the finale, because you are simply dreadful?

Me (hanging head in shame): I guess so,

Nigel: You do realize that if you ever, ever predict anything correctly, I will change it. In fact, your blog is my number one source of what NOT to do on the show.

Me: Glad I could help.

Nigel: Even if it means fixing it so Lauren can win, I will take action to keep you on your toes.

Me: But Lauren actually deserved to win. I was happy.

Nigel: I don’t care if you were happy, I only need you to be surprised.

Me: That I was. And that Ellen thing was kind of a stroke of genius.

Nigel: You know it, bitca.

Me: And I was actually pleased to see Mary. What’s up with that?

Nigel: Yet another brilliant move on my part – you never know what you have until it’s gone. Now I can bring her back and all you whiners and complainers will finally get on the Hot Tamale Train. I am the smartest producer ever.

Me: But seriously, with the Bollywood routine? Kent and Anya? And no Boogie Shoes?

Nigel: If you just want to see crowd pleasing dances, go and watch that other dance show. We are global! We’re way more influential in the world of dance!

Me: Whatever floats your boat, dude.

Nigel: Now, repeat after me: “I will never question Nigel again.”

Me: I can’t do that.

Nigel: REPEAT!

Me: I will never question Nigel again.

Nigel: Very good. Until next season, then?

Me: See you there, old man.