Ok, judge me

I'm watching Dancing with the Stars with my (cough) 3rd glass of pinot grigio. I didn't ask for the vino, the glass just filled itself. Ok, my husband filled it. I'm a bit suspect of his motives to be honest, but we can come back to that.
I feel like an armchair quarterback, only with ballroom dancing. "That song is terrible." "OMG look at that hair." "I wonder what I would look like in that dress..." "She has like 40# on him." And those are the nice comments going through my head.
I am alone in the room, though not in the house. One son is in his room talking or texting his girlfriend. The younger son is on the xbox playing Call of Duty. The hubby was here a minute ago...hmmm, me thinks he is outside.
I would be awesome on this show if only someone would coach me. I would be in great shape too if only someone would train me. Yadda yadda. I need a staff of at least 5. Where the heck are they? Dammit.
So back to the husband's motivation to bring the wifey booze. Does it need be said? I mean, really, he's hopeful. I get it, but there is a fine line between lucky lucky and nighty night. I got up to use the potty and when I came back, the wine glass was full again. I am getting kinda sleepy.
Cha cha cha...I can do that.